#but the fact that I even have to ask people if they’re comfortable with me being there sucks
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Time Will Tell
WC: 3260 | Rating: Teen and Up | Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, The Unrelenting Anxiety of Gift-Giving | AO3 Link
Summary: It's Eddie's 21st Birthday, and Steve's not sure what gift he should get him, what would show the man how much he loves him, how glad he is that they've been able to share the last six months together. That indecisiveness is made worse by the fact he's known since he was six: people are never honest about whether or not they actually appreciate the gift they've been given- and Steve can't stand the idea of Eddie not liking the gift but pretending for Steve's sake. Steve ends up choosing a gift that he knows Eddie won't like in an effort to save everyone pain. That decision sparks a much-needed conversation, and helps Steve understand that his parent's relationship really isn't the blueprint.
Fic Below the Cut!
“-An emerald, I mean, really, could that man at least try to act like he knows me?”
Steve’s eyebrows knit together in confusion at his mother’s exclamation, and he tilted his head. His eyes remained trained on his feet, wrapped in small leather loafers that hung off the side of his parent’s bed. “But Mama, I thought you said you loved it earlier? That it was pretty?”
His mother gave a great, put-upon sigh and turned to face where Steve was seated on the bed. “You’ll understand when you’re older, baby.” Her arms stretched awkwardly around her neck while she spoke, her hands struggling with the clasp of the necklace Steve’s father had presented to her that morning, a gift for her birthday.
Steve huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms. “But wanna und’stand now.”
“You’re a big boy now, Steven. You’re six, enunciate your words, and don’t whine.” Her reprimand came stern, and was juxtaposed by the soft “Aha!” moments later, when the clasp of the necklace finally closed. She turned back towards the vanity and rested her precisely manicured hands over the pendant, a gleaming emerald wrapped in gold, then smiled sadly at herself in the mirror.
“Gifts are rarely about what you actually want, Steven. More often than not, they’re about the monetary value, or meeting a need, or subtly showing the recipient that you have the upper hand. They’re… strategic. I needed a new piece of jewelry for the party tonight, your father delivered- even though the gem he gave me clashes with my eyes, and my skin tone is more complemented by platinum than gold. He gave me this necklace because it makes him look good. It would’ve been nice if he put thought into it- but, well, it would be rude not to be grateful.”
“But… Mama, couldn’t Daddy do both? Get you something you need, and make it something you like?”
His mother’s smile wavered and her eyes softened from where they were now gazing at Steve through his reflection in the vanity mirror. “He could, yes, but it’s like you said- I told him I loved it. As far as your father is concerned, he’s done exactly that- gotten me something I like and need. I’m not going to tell him otherwise. Does that make sense?”
No. In Steve’s six-year-old brain, it really, really didn’t. “I guess so.”
His mother nodded at him from the mirror, then began to put on her earrings. “Good. Now, do you remember what to say when one of your father’s coworkers asks you what you want to be when you grow up?”
This was something that Steve could understand, a response his mother had been teaching him for the last few weeks. Steve beamed. “I want to be an attorney like my Daddy!”
“Good job, baby. Now, go and brush your teeth- we’ll be leaving in a few minutes. It’s your first time joining us at dinner, I want to make sure you’re absolutely perfect.”
“Okay Mama!” Steve scooted off the edge of the bed and toddled towards his parent’s bedroom door, being careful to walk with flat feet so he wouldn’t crease the leather of his loafers, just how his Mama taught him.
“Oh, and Stevie? Don’t tell your father how I feel about the necklace, okay? That’s a just for us conversation.”
Steve nodded, familiar with the concept of keeping certain conversations he had with his mother or father a secret from the other. “Alright, Mama.”
Eddie didn’t like his gift, and Steve knew that. Had prepared for that exact outcome, in fact.
He wasn’t sure what would be good enough to get Eddie for his birthday. They’d been dating for almost six months already, had been flirting around each other for even longer, and Steve was at a loss.
What do you get for the person who you fought hell with? For the person who beat the odds and lived despite everything, for the person you’ve seen at their lowest- the person who saw you at your lowest? What item could possibly express how much Steve adores Eddie, could say how happy he is that Eddie even made it to his 21st birthday after everything that happened? What could serve as a physical testament to the truth of all of their ‘I love you’s and all of the ‘I’m so glad you’re here’s?
Steve got Eddie a watch.
It was the backup gift of the backup gift of the backup gift. A decision made entirely out of cowardice, his mother’s words ringing in his ear.
He had wanted to get Eddie a new battle vest initially- then decided against it, because he was worried it would serve as too much of a reminder of what had happened last Spring.
He’d thought about a guitar case next, an idea that sprung up when he was walking by the music shop downtown. He literally face-palmed moments later, gaining a strange look from a passerby, when he realized that Eddie’s guitar had been left in the Upside Down, that he still didn’t have a new electric guitar, and he already had a case for his acoustic.
Naturally, a new guitar came to mind as a gift idea next, but he nixed that immediately too. The whole reason Eddie hadn’t bought a new guitar yet was because he was very particular about the instrument- and Steve had no idea about all of the different things to consider in guitar buying, so he’d probably just fuck it up. He considered some other stuff, too- new materials to play D&D, concert tickets- but his mind just kept screaming at him, telling him that he didn’t know Eddie well enough to give him any of those gifts.
Really, all he could think about was how badly he would fuck up giving Eddie any meaningful gift- how he’d probably never know if Eddie didn’t like it, because people always pretended that they liked a gift even if they didn’t, so it was basically impossible to tell whether something was actually appreciated.
At the end of the day, it was just easier to abide by the words his mother told him at six and get something that would look nice. Steve wouldn’t be putting his emotions on the line by getting a risky gift, something that Eddie would either love more than anything or absolutely despise.
It was a gift that didn’t match Eddie’s personality at all, and Steve knew that. Eddie was always running late to things, but that’s just how he was. It was endearing, a trait that was lovable, not something to be fixed by having a watch on his wrist.
Steve had, in fact, only realized the negative connotation of the gift after he’d decided to buy it, but it was too late to decide on something else, so he tried to ignore the way his stomach hurt throughout the process of purchasing the thing, and hoped for the best.
Eddie didn’t care about showings of wealth either, so it was pretty pointless for Steve to get him such a nice watch. It wasn’t, like, a Rolex, but he had to save up a bit to buy it. It was made up of dark gray metal with a black leather band, a decision that was made out of Steve trying his best to at least make the gift something that wouldn’t clash with Eddie’s usual attire.
He put a bow on the box it came in and added it to the pile of gifts at Eddie’s birthday party. He tried to stop himself from looking at Eddie when he was going through the process of opening presents, ignored the way his hackles rose when Eddie opened up the watch and gave a tight smile, then a forced-out “Thanks” to Steve, and moved on to opening the next gift wordlessly.
Every other gift elicited a dramatic response from Eddie- a drawing from Will, new dice and minifigures from the kids, a mixtape from Robin, some sci-fi books from Nancy, homemade brownies (yes, *those* brownies) from Jon and Argyle-
And Steve got Eddie a watch.
The rest of the guests to Eddie’s birthday party slowly filtered out of the trailer after all the presents were opened, that having been the close of the party’s festivities. Steve stuck around, cleaning up the trash and dirty dishes strewn around the surrounding area.
Steve and Eddie danced around each other wordlessly- Steve cleaning up while Eddie moved the various gifts from the living room to his bedroom. When all of the leftover paper plates, napkins, and cups were thrown away, and Steve couldn’t find any other dishes to wash in the kitchen, he returned to the living room.
Eddie was seated on the couch by that point, and the watch- in its box, the lid propped open to display the thing- was resting on the coffee table in front of him. “Are you mad at me, Steve? Because, if you are, we could’ve just- I don’t know, talked, instead of you embarrassing me in front of all of our friends on my birthday.”
Steve felt the familiar burn of tears and ducked his head so that Eddie wouldn’t see how his words had affected him.
Eddie wasn’t following the script.
The script which said, no matter what, just pretend to like the present so you don’t appear ungrateful. The script that Steve had been raised on, the script that taught him how to play his part. The script that had motivated him to get the gift in the first place.
“I didn’t mean to be late to Party movie night last week, or to our date three weeks ago, it’s just hard for me to realize what time it is when I’m stuck in my head about something. I didn’t realize that it was bothering you so much- you could’ve told me, y’know? I just feel like shit now, and I’m not even angry- not at you, I’m mad at myself and I’m upset that you didn’t just tell me, and-”
“-I’m sorry.” Steve’s apology came whispered, barely audible due to his head still hanging, staring down at his feet.
His feet, which were wrapped in white, scuffed tennis shoes.
A far cry from the loafers he’d worn at six.
Steve wrapped his arms around himself and focused on taking measured breaths.
He was so clearly detached from the life of his parents, from the unhealthy ideology that stemmed from having too much money and being in a practical relationship rather than one that was built on love.
His relationship with Eddie couldn’t be more different, yet he’d slipped back into that familiar, thinly-veiled selfishness the second he felt anxiety over getting Eddie the wrong thing. Eddie had always been honest with him, so how could Steve ever think that he’d pull the same passive-aggressive misrepresentation of love that his mother so often portrayed to his father?
“Steve?”
It seemed Eddie had crossed the room while Steve had been distracted by his own thoughts, seeing as the man was now cupping Steve’s jaw with his hand, a concerned look in his eyes. “Where’d you go, sweetheart?”
“S-sorry. I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think I’m good at it.” Steve’s words came quicker than his thoughts, and his breath hitched as he spoke due to his steady crying.
“Good at what, Stevie?”
“Gifts.”
Eddie hummed under his breath, his thumb gently swiping against Steve’s cheekbone in an effort to wipe away his tears. “Care to expand on that, baby? Because the Stevie I know just gave Robin a weekend trip to Chicago for her birthday a month ago, and it made her cry so hard she almost threw up.”
“It’s different.”
“What’s different?”
“We-we’re together, and- shit, Eds, I had a ton of ideas of things I thought you’d like, but I just kept thinking I’d get it wrong, but you wouldn’t- look, you love me too, right?”
Eddie huffed out a soft breath of confusion, and his other hand moved to rest on the small of Steve’s back, pulling him into a hug. “Of course I love you, I tell you everyday”
“Yeah, I know.” Steve’s voice was near pleading, wobbling with renewed emotion while fresh tears slipped down his cheeks. “So even if I got you the wrong thing, I’d never know that, and then I’d just keep fucking up, and next thing you know, we’d resent each other and disguise that hatred in things that are supposed to be displays of love, like gifts, and we’d end up like my parents, and I can’t do that to you, you never deserve to feel that way-”
“Hold on- sorry to cut you off, sweetheart, but I feel like I got a little lost there. C’mon, let’s sit.” Eddie wrapped his hand around Steve’s and tugged him towards the couch, then gently shoved Steve onto a cushion and curled up next to him, keeping their hands linked. “Okay, I have three questions. One, why do you think you’d get me the ‘wrong thing’; two, why wouldn’t you know if I didn’t like something; and three, if I love you so much- which you know I do, why do you think we’d end up like your parents?”
Steve sniffed, scrubbing his eyes with the palm of his free hand to try and wipe the tears away. “It’s- okay, so, I wanted to get you a new vest, right? But that would just be a reminder of what happened back in the Upside Down, and then I wanted to get you a guitar case, but that wouldn’t work for obvious reasons- then I thought of a new guitar, but I’d definitely fuck that up because I don’t know the first thing about guitars. I thought about some other stuff, like for D&D or whatever, but I didn’t think that would be enough- and I just kept psyching myself out, right? Because my whole childhood, my dad got my mom these gifts, but they weren’t things she actually wanted, and all I could think about is how I could accidentally do that for you.
“My mom, she always told him how happy she was, then would turn around and tell me or her friends how much she hated the thing and- I couldn’t stomach the idea of that happening, of not knowing that I upset you, so I just- I defaulted to something that would look nice, right? A strategic gift, rather than something special. I honestly didn’t even think about you being late to things until after I decided to buy it, and then I hated that I’d made that decision, because I don’t think you being late to stuff is something that needs to change, I actually kinda love it about you because it means that you were so wrapped up in something else, something you love.
“Anyways- I just went through with it, bought the thing because I didn’t know what else to do, because knowing that you wouldn’t like it honestly made it easier than getting my hopes up about you liking something and then always questioning whether you actually liked it because people never really say what they think, but then you just came out and said what you thought about the frankly shit gift I got you, and I can’t believe it took that to make me realize how fuckin’ stupid I was being by just falling back into the toxic shit my parents taught me growing up. I’m so sorry, Eds. You didn’t deserve that. We’re obviously not going to end up like my parents, stuck together and hating each other- but sometimes, when I navigate us, I can’t help but go back to them, because they were my blueprint. Does that make sense?”
Eddie’s hold on his hand hadn’t waned throughout Steve’s rambling explanation, and only grew tighter, more supportive, at the close of Steve’s question. “Yeah, sweetheart, that makes sense. I hate that you found yourself going down that line of thinking, but I understand that that’s where you’d go if your parents created that atmosphere for you.”
The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Steve’s attention having turned towards the rings on Eddie’s hand that was tangled with his own, while Eddie used his other hand to gently card through Steve’s hair. Steve’s tears had slowed throughout his expounding and had become the occasional sniffle, joined by a shuddering breath.
Eddie eventually broke their silence, his voice soft and his tone careful. “For what it’s worth, I can tell you put a lot of thought into it. Even if it’s not really something I was hoping for, you chose a gift that would go with my outfits, chose my favorite colors. I can tell how much it mattered to you to get something I’d like, even if you defaulted to making it something that you knew wouldn’t mean, y’know, the world to me.”
Steve huffed, shifting so that he could burrow his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “You don’t have to try and make it not shitty, Eds, I know it sucks. I knew that going in.”
“I’m being honest, I still appreciate the good intentions behind it.”
“I’m sorry that it made you feel so shitty- sorry that now you have to deal with all this on top of it, on your fucking birthday-”
“Stevie, baby, it’s okay. Being with you- that alone means the world to me. You could’ve gotten me nothing and I would’ve been grateful to be with you, because in my opinion, you are the greatest gift I’ve ever received. As for working through childhood shit on my birthday, that’s not, like, a chore for me. I’m happy to be here, to talk about these things with you, because I love you, and that’s part of our love. Okay?”
Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, and Steve melted underneath him, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah, okay.”
Steve shifted closer and kissed the dip of Eddie’s shoulder, then wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull the man closer. “I still wanna do something to apologize, something to celebrate you rather than make us fight.”
“You didn’t make us fight, baby. I was just confused. We talked, we figured stuff out, we’re holding each other, everything is good. You don’t have to make it up to me, because there’s nothing to make up.”
Steve hummed against Eddie’s neck, his hand moving up to brush through his curls. “I don’t have to, but I still want to. Maybe not tonight, because I kinda think we should just cuddle and eat leftover cake and watch a movie, but tomorrow I wanna take you out, just drive for a few hours, we can find a place to grab some food together. After that, maybe we can come back here, hold each other a while. We can do that thing you like so much with your belt and my hands…” Steve trailed off, his tone lilting into something flirtatious.
Eddie gave a giddy chuckle in response, flicking Steve’s bicep playfully. “Yeah, alright loverboy. As long as you’re feeling up for it, and not doing it because you feel like you have to do it- I think that I would love that.”
“Then consider it done.” Steve sat back slightly to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips, then returned to his spot against Eddie’s shoulder.
“Sounds like an outstanding gift. I’ll be counting down the seconds ‘til then, sweetheart.”
#stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#my writing#em writes#steddie fic#steddie established relationship#steddie hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort
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Okay I gotta just put this out there I don’t care. It is really tough finding a place for yourself in groups of people as an extremely white passing mixed race person especially when your family was ashamed of their culture and never taught you anything.
I feel stuck all of the time, I swear I’m just constantly seeking to belong in a group but none accept me. I see posts all of the time that are like “even if you weren’t raised in our culture but are from our race, yes including mixed race people, you are still one of us” but to me it’s just performative. I need to see that and feel that. I have been denied access to so many groups and clubs because I’m not black enough or not native enough. And I know that some people are like “why not just hang out with white people?” Because it’s not the same, I want to belong somewhere too, I still go through struggles, just not as many, but I’m outcast from white society as soon as they learn about me. The only other people that I can ever talk about this with are other mixed race people. I can barely talk about this with my siblings because both of them are obviously poc or mixed race…
This isn’t really to say anything about or to anyone, it’s just really frustrating feeling cast out from so many groups when it comes to talking about heritage and cultures. I have them!! I truly do but I can’t celebrate anything because I’m not “x” enough to belong, or I’m too much of “y”.
#my most cherished thing I have is a cake recipe that comes from my grandmas great grandma and sadly I’m the only person alive that even has#that recipe and it makes me really sad and lost… just like how the recipe feels to just be stuck to this one person who has no one to share#it with. it’s not specifically a cultural dish. but it’s a familial dish and it has a lot of significance to us#also I remember once in college I was denied access to joining a queer poc group by the leader because I was too white… not the students.#but by the teacher#it was a request access thing only and I knew the teacher (who was white btw) and she was uncomfortable with even allowing me to find the#president of the club to ask if I could sit in a session and ask if everyone would be comfortable with my presence#but the fact that I even have to ask people if they’re comfortable with me being there sucks#like yeah I know I have privledges because I look white… but I also lose out on where I belong and it hurts a lot
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john green quit tumblr because of the cock monologue
No, he didn’t.
This all happened a long time ago, and my memory is imperfect, but here’s my memory: The cock monologue certainly hurt my feelings! But when people are trying to force someone out of a virtual space, they sometimes resort to behavior that is similar to bullying except it’s not completely identical to bullying because the person they’re making fun of has a lot of power. (As someone who got bullied a lot in school, the feeling was similar in 2014 but it wasn’t identical--because I was aware of the fact that I was okay, that what was in danger was certain aspects of my identity/self-value that I treasured but not my entire personhood itself.)
Anyway, it hurt my feelings, and still hurts my feelings when I see it shared (it feels to me like a joke about my sexuality, although I understand other people don’t see it that way; but yeah, you don’t know much about my sexuality and I don’t really want you to but it feels like a joke about that to me, which just bums me out).
But all of that stuff is a side effect of my job and having been successful at it, and I like my job. It is a great job. All jobs have aspects that suck. My job has fewer such aspects than other jobs I’ve had.
So yeah, I did not quit tumblr because of the cock monologue. (I also did not ask tumblr to make reblogs un-editable.) .
I quit tumblr because a few people started to make extremely specific threats. One might, for instance, send me an ask that featured a google streetview screenshot of my home alongside a plan for breaking into it.
I was super scared of these people (or possible person pretending to be a few people?) because they seemed to have a lot of knowledge about me and my family. We lived in a normal middle-class neighborhood in Indianapolis and I felt very exposed and nervous all the time in my real life, and eventually the freaked-out feeling just got too big and that’s why I quit tumblr.
(Edited to add: I am aware that prominent people sometimes use death threats against them to portray themselves as victims and protect themselves against justified criticism for their bigotry or abusive behavior or whatever. I don’t want to do that; it’s important to note that I have a lot of resources and power and so was able to, for instance, move to decrease the threat, which a lot of people can’t do. But I also feel like not talking about the experience honestly has not really helped me or anyone.)
I SHOULD’VE quit tumblr much earlier--I needed to realize that people weren’t comfortable with me in their virtual spaces and that to them I came across as cringey or even creepy, but at the time, I wasn’t nearly self-aware enough to leave for any of those reasons, and plus there was a lot of pressure from movie studios etc to stay on the social Internet so I could continue to promote my books and the stuff around them. So I didn’t quit when I should’ve, and as a result had and caused quite a few negative experiences for people. I’m sorry about the role I had in causing those negative experiences. I should’ve had a better understanding of not just how I experienced myself but also how other people might experience me. That’s something i’ve worked on over the years but still come up short on sometimes.
At any rate, I might delete this later because it makes me feel a bit like all my nerves are exposed to the air but I did just want to clarify that the, like, Tumblr Legend of this whole thing is at minimum a bit over simplified.
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a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.
“Have you called Maeve?”
She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?
He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with.
Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them.
“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.
“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”
“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”
She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks.
Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me.
She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response.
Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.
She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it.
Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office.
She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief.
She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share.
He does not want to call Maeve.
The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.
“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”
Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.
He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess.
He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.
“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”
“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”
“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“
“Then why-“
“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”
He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it.
She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now.
All the cards are in her hands.
Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this.
“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”
It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him.
“How could I not be? It’s you.”
It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up.
A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount.
“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“
He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable.
When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life.
“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”
He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back.
It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits.
She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back.
On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything.
He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though.
#spencer reid#spencer Reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds fanfic
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Readjusting
context: just a few somewhat angsty headcanons I have for when MC and Solomon return to the present after everything, enjoy!!
warnings: this does contain nightbringer spoilers
the past changes people
MC will often become more hesitant to talk to or even engage with the brothers. Due to being treated as an attendant in the past they now are used to it, so whenever one of the brothers tries to engage with them they find it hard to sit still or listen to said brother for long periods of time without feeling out of place.
MC will often mix up the fact that they are an exchange student rather than an attendant. When Diavolo claims that he wants MC to feel comfortable as an exchange student MC will respond with something along the lines of how they don’t need much because they’re the brothers attendant. Which in return gets a few confusing stares from others.
MC still carries out some of their duties as an attendant unconsciously. Such as keeping track of the brother’s schedules, events, student council meetings, etc. The brothers don’t mind at first however what they do find unpleasant is the fact MC always follows behind them instead of right beside them like they used too. This doesn’t register until one of them says something to MC, which they in turn respond with “I always follow behind all seven of you”. Which makes their hearts sink.
Still focusing on the attendant duties, MC will still continue to carry out anything asked of them without much of a fight. Since they were so used to carrying out such elaborate things when watching over the brothers in the past they are now used to doing such tasks for them. Most of the time this will confuse most of the brothers because MC is usually more vocal with their opinion on something.
MC will unconsciously be a bit harsher and stricter on the brothers than they usually were. Since being their attendant MC had to keep each of them on a tight leash so they wouldn’t get into trouble. So now in the present if they were to start fighting MC would be the first to show up to scold them instead of Lucifer.
MC will just straight up be petty with Lucifer for a while. Due to the things he said while they were in the past they still haven’t completely forgiven him. So whenever Lucifer mentions his “family”, MC finds themselves saying some remark along the lines of “well that doesn’t include me” or “just the seven of you I know. I leave you all alone” is enough to confuse and hurt the hell out of him. MC knows that Lucifer does really care for them in this timeline, but they can’t help it. His words really did hurt them deeply for awhile.
On another topic of MC’s attitude, Diavolo soon realizes that they are much more formal with him. The cute nickname Dia was dropped and he was always referred to by a title now. When Diavolo questioned them about formality MC simply explained that the past Barbatos didn’t like them referring to Diavolo in such a manner.
MC is now more vigilant around Satan, Belphegor and Barbatos, each for different reasons.
Satan is one that worries MC the most because they became used to having to deal with his violent outbursts and destructive episodes. So when Satan gets angry in the present MC will step in front of him and the brothers separating them. Satan soon grows confused when MC prepares a spell to restrain him.
Belphegor doesn’t worry MC as much as the other two, but after he found out they were a human in the past and tried to kill them again in response MC had to remain vigilant. They still do whenever they are alone with him. Which in turn makes the youngest guilty about the past.
Barbatos is someone MC keeps Solomon away from at all costs. After all MC was used to Barbatos teleporting the sorcerer around from place to place. It did become concerning when Solomon would show up later and later each time he came home. So to avoid that MC would make themselves and Solomon avoid the butler at all costs. However the present butler soon finds this behavior hurtful when MC constantly declines his offer to come over. In the end MC has a hard time remembering that this isn’t the past Barbatos.
Many soon noticed the strong bond MC now has with Solomon and of course they all become jealous. At first they noticed how MC would go to him for little things, or just prefer to be around him more, but when they asked about moving in with him rather than staying in the House of Lamentation it threw everyone for a loop. It made it even worse when MC said they’ll be there to help the brothers every morning like usual. They wanted MC to realize that they’re an exchange student not an attendant.
Many also notice how reliant they are on Solomon for certain things. Sometimes MC just needs Solomons presence in a room to be able to feel comfortable. If not MC will then become slightly annoyed or fidgety.
Solomon becomes more protective over MC without even realizing it. If he believes one of the brothers are being too bothersome to MC he will step in and whisk them away.
Solomon finds it easier to steal MC’s attention away now. Before when he would try and drag them away from the brothers, or even try and steal their attention for just a second it always failed. However with how close they both became in the past, if Solomon interrupts a conversation MC is having with the brothers MC finds themselves listening to him a bit more than the brother they were speaking with.
MC is much more reckless and blunt with their decision making now. Before they were a bit more collected with their thoughts. However being in the past made their impulsive decision making become a habit. Thus causing the brothers to sometimes question MC methods.
MC would often question the brothers as to why they weren’t in their demon forms. They suppose they just got used to seeing them in those outfits for so long now it became the norm.
#obey me#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me nightbringer#obey me nightbringer spoilers#demon brothers#obey me luficer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me solomon#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me angst#obey me nightbringer angst
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BOOKWORMS | knj
pairing: boyfriend!namjoon x reader
genre: smut; fluff
word count: 4.4k
summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.
warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(
note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!
side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks <;3
You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind.
Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper ‘pspsps’ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world.
You’re happy for him. Over time, you’ve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book he’s reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. It’s like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that he’s here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.
Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesn’t matter if it’s his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations you’re having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Can’t really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot he’s invested in to you. Describes the characters as if they’re real people he’s become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.
“I’ll tell you when they tell me.” He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.
It’s how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.
Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know it’s a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You can’t help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when he’s trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do.
He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winter’s cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because that’s what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for him–not once throughout the course of his life. That’s why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.
The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. It’s what the serenity believes. It’s what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that it’s telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. It’s your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. It’s his own personal healing thing.
You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.
***
Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so you’re overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.
Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldn’t be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasn’t. It’s the perfect balance. And it’s not that you’re not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. It’s natural. Simple. Human.
“Missed me?” Namjoon husks into your ear.
You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. “Terribly.”
His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs.
“I finished the book,” he says and you blink up at him. You’re not surprised at all. “Couldn’t put it down.”
Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something you’ll wonder about for the rest of your life.
“What happened to Theo in the end?” you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters you’ve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through.
Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, you’ve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. You’re proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.
“You’re not gonna believe it,” Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.
You raise one of your eyebrows in question.
“Theo got laid,” Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. “I’m so happy for him.”
You gasp and burst into giggles. “What?”
“He got some!”
Your laughter rises in volume. “He lost his virginity and that’s the end?”
“It was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.” Namjoon’s eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again.
“That’s really beautiful,” you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. “My first time with you changed my life as well.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.
“Tell you what,” Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. “I saw us in it.”
You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. You’re not timid to avow that it’s your addiction. Shame doesn’t know you.
“Elena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Made me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.”
You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction.
“You remember well, don’t you?” He nudges his nose against yours. “I was in awe of you just the same.”
It’s impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you haven’t felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.
A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you he’d found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than he’d been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, ‘well, of course, if you want’ to the end of his sentence because he’s Namjoon.
“I do,” you breathe. “Touched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.”
Namjoon groans. “God.” He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. “You wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?”
You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. You’re choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.
“You wanna show me how you touched yourself?” Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face.
You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldn’t say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isn’t something you’re quite ready for. To you, it’s still something that’s yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. You’re afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.
“Not today,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”
Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.”
You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.
“You know this is why we do this right?” he asks you. “Why I ask you these questions? I need to always know what you’re comfortable with so I don’t make a mistake.”
You nod. “Yes, Namjoon, I know and I’m so thankful.”
“Good. I’ll never push you to do anything you don’t want. Don’t forget that, okay?”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“That’s my girl.
You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that you’re his is still something you can’t wrap your head around.
“We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything tonight—”
“No, Namjoon.” You withdraw. “Look.” Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties.
His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.
“Fuck, baby.”
“Yeah, I need you. Need more,” you breathe out. “Can’t leave me like this, can you?”
Namjoon hums. “No, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this pussy.”
He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear.
“Sit on the counter.”
You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they don’t pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what he’s about to do to you.
Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. “Lock your arms around the back of your knees. Don’t let go.”
You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die.
Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh.
“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my hand.” He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all.
Your clit throbs, breath matching his. “Please, Namjoon.”
He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You can’t even scream. Can’t breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. There’s nothing you can do but take it.
You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when he’s finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesn’t move them. Lets you adjust instead.
“One more,” he mutters. “Please.”
You nod.
“Use your words or we’re stopping.”
You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. “Yes, Namjoon, one more. I’ll come for you.”
Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but can’t seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning.
Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. “Look at me.”
You do, weakly.
“Just a little bit more and I’ll fuck you, all right?”
You’re about to nod, but decide against it. “Mhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.”
He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. “I’m so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.”
You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper.
Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans.
“Come on.”
Namjoon helps you down. If it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you would’ve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense.
“I got you.”
Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.
“Don’t fucking do that to me, baby.”
You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. “Are you gonna come in me?”
He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.
“Gonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,” he promises, voice restrained. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.”
One thing about Namjoon, he’s a man of his word.
Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls.
“Ready?” he asks against the fullness of your breast.
“Yeah, fuck me, Joon.”
He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.
“You forgot something.”
He thrusts again, harder this time.
“What?” you breathe out, meekly.
“What word do you use when you want to ask for something?”
He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you.
“Fuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.”
He grinds, hips rotating in circles.
“Uh-huh, that’s right. Now use it.”
Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him.
“Please, hmph, fuck me.”
Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. “Knew you could do it,” he coos. “Smart fucking girl.”
He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. You’re breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over.
“Aren’t you?” Namjoon continues. “Aren’t you a smart girl?”
You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I’m a smart girl.”
He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. He’s mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants.
“That’s right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.”
Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before he’s back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.
“Namjoon, I’m so fucking close. I’m so close. I’m gonna come,” you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.
Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him.
He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. “Smart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?”
You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. “Yes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.”
Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. “I’m here. I’m gonna make you come.”
From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like.
Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna breed you. Hm. You want that, don’t you?”
The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses.
“Look.”
You follow his eyes and moan. “Namjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. I’m so close. Wanna feel you. Please.”
He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until you’re knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing.
Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.
You’re smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in.
He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. He’s gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair.
And you do the same for him.
Once the pillow touches your cheeks, you’re both out like a light.
© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.
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#namjoon smut#namjoon x reader#namjoon x y/n#namjoon x oc#namjoon x you#btscreatorscorner#bts smut#bts imagine#namjoon imagine#namjoon scenarios#namjoon fluff#kpop smut#knj x reader#knj#kim namjoon#namjoon
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A Rarity
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~900
Warnings: fluff
Summary: You have a rare genetic code called heterochromia. You have two different colored eyes that you have tried to suppress ever since you got seriously bullied in middle school. Just when you're about to present a case, you find your contact case is missing.
Square Filled: friends with benefits (2022) for @spencerreidbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
Today is the day you start your new job as the team’s liaison. You’ve always been part of this since JJ was the main person to deal with it. However, she’s been promoted to profiler which means all the slack now falls on your shoulders. You love interacting with families and comforting them when they most need it.
This is the first case when it’s just going to be you, so you’re kind of nervous about it. Before going into the briefing room, you decide to touch up on your makeup and hair as if you’re going in front of millions on the TV to present the case. You take out your contacts and leave them to rehydrate on your desk while you go to the bathroom to fix your makeup.
Once you’re done, you make sure not to look into anyone’s eyes as you make your way back to your desk. The first thing you do is put away your makeup. The second thing you do is grab your contacts to put them back in but they’re not where you left them.
“Shit,” you curse and go through your entire desk. “No, this isn’t happening.”
You’re panicking at the thought of not having your contacts. You don’t need them to see, in fact, you have 20/20 vision. No, you use them only for color because you have a rare thing called heterochromia. Your right eye is bright blue and your left is bright green. You were born with two different eye colors. No one in your family has this genetic but you, so you have no idea where it came from.
Ever since you were enrolled in school, you were bullied for your eyes. It didn’t start getting bad until middle school when kids were more focused on appearances than learning and making friends. Kids in elementary school actually found them to be cool but only because they were little kids who didn’t know any better.
Your peers made you hate this part of you even though you can’t do anything about it. As soon as you started high school, you begged your mom to get you colored contacts. You’ve been wearing them ever since even into your adult years. You choose a natural blue to make yourself look more normal. Had you not had those, you would for sure get bullied even worse than in middle school.
The longer you went wearing them the more people thought your eyes were just one color. No one at work knows about this or so you thought. The only person who might know about this is Spencer but that’s only because you two have been friends with benefits for quite some time now. It helps to have one to work off the stress from work. Plus, he’s an amazing lover so there’s a plus.
You two aren’t dating just fucking a lot.
While he was getting ready this morning at your place, you were in the bathroom rushing to do your makeup. You hadn’t put your contacts in just yet so if he were to walk in the bathroom, he’d see your eyes for what they truly are. He was getting ready and peeked through the open door to see if you were close to being done when he saw the beauty in your eyes. He didn’t say anything about it so as not to embarrass you.
He walks into the bullpen from the break room to see you panicking.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Where are my contacts? I just had them on my desk.”
“I didn’t know you wore contacts,” he lied. You refuse to look at him without them in. “I’m sure it’ll be alright. You have glasses, right?”
“Yes, but--”
“But what? What’s the problem?”
“Never mind,” you groan and continue looking for them.
“Hey, look at me.” When you don’t, he sets his coffee down on the desk and grabs your chin gently. He makes you look at him but you close your eyes so he doesn’t see their colors. “Open your eyes.”
“No,” you shake your head.
“Darling, open your eyes,” he says gently.
He would be the person to find out eventually. You sigh and open your eyes to show him the rarity you have. Now that he gets to see them up close, he’s falling more in love with you. You might not have feelings for him but he certainly has them for you. He only keeps you as a fuck buddy because if he were to tell you the truth, he might lose you.
“What beautiful eyes you have.”
“They’re ugly,” you sigh and pull away from him.
“Who told you that?”
“Everyone I’ve ever known,” you scoff. You look at your watch and notice the time. “Shit, I have to give the case out.”
“No one is going to notice.”
“Are you kidding me? They’re so bright. They stand out.”
“Fine, if they make comments, I’ll handle it.”
You have no choice but to go in there without your contacts. You sigh and grab your things before heading to the briefing room with Spencer. Everyone is already in there waiting so you immediately get started. As you’re talking, you notice Spencer watching you with a smile on his face.
“You’re beautiful,” he mouths to you.
Your cheeks heat up but you don’t let it show how happy he makes you. The briefing only lasts thirty minutes before Hotch announces wheels up. When everyone is packing up to get out of there, you notice something sticking out of Spencer’s back pocket.
Your contact case. You want to be mad at him for taking it but maybe it’s time to let your rarity shine.
x
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#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fan fic#spencer reid fan fiction#spencer reid fiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#cm fanfiction#criminal minds fic#cm fic
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ᡣ𐭩 MID DAY NAPS WITH DAZAI!
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: dazai does not nap. he hardly sleeps in general. so how is it that he's dozing off in your lap like this? you're a witch, he's decided. there's no other logical explanation. (wordcount: 800ish; sfw; fem!reader, mentions of alcohol & sleeping pills)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: very short & sweet but i toldddd you guys that i had a dazai nap time drabble in the works. i love my naps, so that means i obviously have to do nap time with all of the favs. perhaps i'll do jouno next. or maybe there's someone u guys want.
Dazai doesn’t sleep well. He never has, and he’s certain he never will. The only time he can manage to get some semblance of sleep is when he’s taken a few too many sleeping pills or he’s drank himself to oblivion. It’s unfortunate, but it’s a fact of life, and he thinks that he’d prefer to stay sleepless anyway if it means he can avoid the memories that plague his dreams.
Dazai can simply not remember when the last time he willingly slept was, which is why he’s so confused now, head resting in your lap, eyes heavy as he looks up at you. He can hardly hold them open, he can feel himself falling asleep and he’s alarmed because he does not sleep unless his body is drugged, drunk or dying.
“What kind of spell have you placed on me, bella?” Dazai says through a yawn—he yawned???
“What do you mean?” you ask quietly, fingers still carding gently through his hair as you look down at him, brows furrowed.
He wants to reach up and rub out the wrinkle between your eyebrows but his arm feels too heavy. A part of him wonders if he’s dying, but he supposes if this is how he’s meant to go out—laying in your lap with your fingers brushing through his hair, staring up at your pretty face beneath the afternoon sun—then he couldn’t ask for a better death.
“‘m falling asleep,” he murmurs, and his voice slurs a bit over the words. His eyes feel even heavier, drooping shut as he tilts his head to the side to make himself comfortable on your lap.
You giggle lightly, and Dazai swears the sound is angelic. “‘cause you’re so sleepy, obviously,” you say, a teasing lilt to your tone as you bring your freehand to his face to trace his cheekbone.
“I don’t sleep,” he protests weakly, leaning into your touch.
He thinks that before he met you, he might not have ever experienced a gentle touch in his entire life, and now he simply cannot go without them. He craves them at every waking moment and gets severely distressed when he cannot obtain them. But only if they’re from you—the thought of anyone else touching him the way you do makes his skin crawl. Your touches make him feel vulnerable in a way that’s dangerous, and you’re the only person he trusts enough to see him that way.
“Everyone sleeps, silly,” you disagree softly, and Dazai wants to protest, to tell you how significant this is, but he can’t find the words. His mind feels muddled and hazy as exhaustion creeps through his bones and claws at his chest.
He supposes he doesn’t really need to tell you anyway, you probably already know—you always know somehow. You can always figure out when he’s having one of his bad days, no matter how hard he tries to hide it from everyone. You can always tell when he needs a break from everything, even when he tries to mask it with smiles and jokes. You can always tell when he’s sick of playing the role of a clown to make people overlook all of his faults and darkness, and you’re always there to be an escape for him.
It used to be scary—he’s never had someone that could pick through all of his masks to see through his emotional state, his real one. A part of him wonders if it’s somehow a secret part of your ability but he knows it’s a ridiculous thought, because there’s no explanation for how you can do it whenever he’s laid up in your arms or draped all over you, which is 99% of the time he’s with you.
It used to be scary (emphasis on the past tense) but now, he thinks it might be a bit comforting to know that you’re always there and you know what he needs even when he himself doesn’t know. You’re like a buoy in the middle of a raging sea, a lighthouse shining through the dark. he hasn’t had someone he could genuinely rely on in… a long time, and even then…
Dazai lets out a puff of air, eyes finally sliding shut as he all but melts into you with your hand cupping the side of his face and your thumb caressing his cheek and your nails gently scraping his scalp. He thinks he might be in heaven—he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it, to deserve you, but he’s a selfish bastard at heart and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you go.
The last thing he feels is your lips ghosting his temple before he finally dozes off. He sleeps peacefully for the first time he can remember.
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai fluff#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu x you#dazai osamu fluff#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bsd fluff#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs fluff#bungo stray dogs x you
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“You really took care of us huh?”
►— pairings. genshin men x gn! creator! reader
►— warnings. nothing that i know of?
►— synopsis. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to where you were.
►— a/n. OMG IM SO SORRY FOR PUTTING THIS OUT LATER THAN EXPECTED 😭 instead of writing i was playing a game so that’s on me, i was also unbelievably tired this week, my fault! but it’s out now 🫶🏻
►— wordcount. 4.1k
✧ part one | ✧ part two | ✧ part three | ✧ part four | ✧ part five | more tba.. NAVIGATION
recommended to listen to: wave to earth - seasons or only - leehi
You never expected, not even in a million years or like.. in a lifetime for the video game characters coming alive and appearing in your room.
And they were handsome too, like, drop-dead gorgeous and the fact that they all respect and love you… You were surely the luckiest person alive right now.
These men also made your bank account cry, the amount of money you had spent on them—pulling for them (and losing many 50/50’s) and their weapon, grinding for hours trying to get their materials to ascend them and for their weapons, artifacts (you’d rather not talk about it) skills and EVERYTHING.
You put more work into making sure they’re all fully taken care of and put to the best of their ability than compared to your work. It was a bit concerning yes but, this game—the characters, we’re so comforting to you than anything else. So of course you poured your whole soul into the game and their characters.
(Also the fact that you also read fanfics about them and now they’re suddenly in your room does not help with your infatuation with them)
And so this brings you to where you were now, showing off their showcase at 10 in the morning.
“Oh wow Y/n! You worked really hard to make us strong.. no wonder why I felt so strong all of the sudden in one day..”
Aether watched in awe and amazement as you showed him his artifacts and his weapons with Venti, Pierro, Diluc, Kaeya, Tighnari and a few others hovering and peeking out from behind your chair, watching as you showed Aether’s build to everybody.
The rest were in your living room, eating breakfast. You had decided to eat breakfast after showing the people who wanted to know their builds.
For some reason their characters were still in the game despite really being in your world. You would have to ask Albedo about this later.
“What about me?” Diluc grumbled, trying his best to ignore the states he got. “What? I can’t ask Y/n something so simple?” Everybody shook their heads “no”.
Smiling, you replied. “Of course! I remember when your skin first came out I was all over it, I made sure to buy it to, did you like it? I think it looked beautiful on you.”
Diluc blushed at your words and nodded his head. “Mhm. I loved it, Y/n, thank you.” He stated, smiling warmly down at you.
You began to stroll through your characters until you found Diluc. “There you are—look at you! So handsome..” you sighed dreamily before snapping out of your trance and cleared your throat and began to go through his build.
Once you had finished showing Diluc and everybody his showcase, more people wanted to know about theirs and obviously you couldn’t say no so that’s how you ended up showing nearly everybody’s build and showcasing their skills and whatnot.
“And yeah! I did spend a lot of money but it was.. I guess worth it? I mean I’m glad you guys felt strong and all!”
Tighnari sighed and rested his hand on your desk. “We are all thankful, but seriously you didn’t have to spend all of the days you worked so hard for..” he explained, Diluc agreed with him.
The rest, too, didn’t want you to waste your hard work but then again for you to work so hard on and take care of them ignited something inside of them, so they couldn’t complain.
Before you could respond, a knock was heard. “Come in!” You shouted, turning around in your chair to see who it was.
Lyney entered the room and smiled at you (ignoring the others) “are you done? Your breakfast may get cold you know..” his gaze wanders off to the guys beside you. “Oh, and yours too.”
You could hear the scoffs coming from Diluc and Pierro. “Yeah I’m pretty hungry right now, and was it (Vietnamese) broken rice I smelt?” You asked, getting up from your seat and walking towards Lyney. He nods his head.
“Yeah, Aether found the recipe in a book and found the ingredients for it, lucky huh?”
As you smiled at him and began to walk out of your room followed by the others as Lyney cocks his head to the side—ordering them to get a move on and out of your room. “Come on, I bet you all are starving right now!”
Making your way to living room, you found everybody already done with their breakfast, with only a few plates placed on the coffee table for you and the others.
“Ouuuuh it looks absolutely delicious? Who cooked it?” You asked, sitting down on a pillow beside Xiao and Wriothesley.
“Thoma did with the help of Neuvillette and Childe, surprisingly.” Cyno responded, eyeing Childe from the corner of his eyes.
“Hey… what’s that supposed to mean?!” Childe yelled, pouting at Cyno before looking at you, betrayed and defeated.
You shrug your shoulders and began to dig in your food with Diluc, Venti, Pierro and Tighnari mirroring your actions, sitting down and eating their breakfast.
Childe began to make his way towards you and pushed the other men away that were behind you, this obviously annoyed them but before they could yell at him (start world war 3*) he had wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck.
“You don’t think I poisoned your food, do you?” He mumbled, even though you couldn’t see his face you knew he was pouting.
You shake your head no, not even reacting to his affection—you were somewhat used to it. “‘Course not, I don’t think you could ever actually.”
Childe smiled on your skin and tightened his grip on you. “Mhm. Thanks snookums.”
Everybody cringed (some nearly gagged) at the corny pet name. “Snookums, really? Out of all the petnames.. and it’s not the first time he called them that.” Kaveh whispered to Al-haitham who was obviously disgusted by the pet name.
“Mhm, it truly is disgusting..” Al-haitham whispered back, looking away from the ginger.
Childe rolled his eyes at their reactions and continued to hold you in his arms, Xiao holding back his urge to tackle him right there and then but you were in his arms so he couldn’t, because if he did you would get harmed and he would rather die than hurt you.
While you were eating your breakfast, you grabbed the remote and began to go through the channels—animal documentary, no.. news, yes. Setting down the remote on the table you listened closely to the news.
You weren’t the type to listen to the news but today was an exception, because you just felt like it. “What’s that?” Ayato asked, eyes ogling at the news reporter in the middle addressing the weather.
“Oh-“ “how does she know the weather so precisely?”
“Because, she is a news reporter, she reports on the weather and gives us all of the latest news about whatever.”
The sounds of them “oooh”ing and “aah”ing could be heard from all around you. With Al-haitham and Dainsleif just giving a small “mhm.”
You spend the next few minutes just eating breakfast and watching them all eye the TV and listen closely to the woman. This was.. interesting to them, they had never experienced this before.
Finally you were done eating breakfast, you were the last one to finish so as you began to wash your dish, you looked back and found Neuvillette behind you.
“Oh- god!” Your body jolted as your heart rate spiked up. “You scared me!” You said, sort of breathless.
Neuvillette sends you an apologetic look and apologies. “I’m so sorry for scaring you like that.. I apologize. I should’ve told you beforehand..” his brows furrowed, he looked extremely guilty it was eating your heart away. You couldn’t just not forgive him!
“It’s really okay Neuvillette! I just got a little scare was all..” you laughed at his scared face and turned back around to wash your dish. “What did you want?”
There was silence at first, Neuvillette didn’t respond, there seemed to be a nervous and awkward tension between you two.
“Neuvillette..? Did you want something?” You repeated, placing your dish in the dish rack before washing the other utensils, still awaiting his response.
“I-..” Neuvillette pauses, cheeks slightly tinted with red. “I uhm. I wanted to..” all of the sudden Neuvillette suddenly pulls you in a hug from behind, his arms awkwardly wrapped around your waist.
You were caught off guard by his action but you already knew all of them were touch-deprived and or just wanted to be next to you all the time.
“What’s the matter?” You asked, letting him embrace you in his warm arms from behind. “When I saw Childe hugging you I just.. felt something weird. I wanted to, lord forbid, push him and take his place.”
His words caught you off guard causing you to laugh abruptly and drop the utensils in the sink, a loud "CLUNK!" could be heard. "Oh whoops.. any who uh- Neuvillette are you.." you turn around and raise your brow, smirking up at him.
"Am I what?"
"Are you jealous~" your teasing voice made his heart skip a beat, his eyes focused on you, brows furrowing. "Me? Jealous? I don't know what you mean." Neuvillette sighed, his grip on your waist tightened.
You eyed him and slowly nodded your head. "Mhm.. sure.." Neuvillette peeks his head to the side and spots the utensils still unwashed. "Would you like me to clean the rest? You could go rest and bond with the rest."
Turning your head back around to look at the utensils that laid in the sink. You hummed for a few seconds before responding—"why don't we both clean them? You wanted to be with me right?"
Neuvillette nods his head, offering you a smile. You two began to wash the dishes together with Neuvillette standing beside you, after a few minutes all the dishes were on the dish rack, water dripping off down into the sink.
"All done! Now let's go join the others" you excitedly hummed, grabbing a hold of Neuvillette's arm and walking over to where the rest were.
Kazuha smiled and waved his hand at the both of you, once spotting you with Neuvillette. "You're back! What do you want to do now?"
You sit down on the end of the couch and sighed. "I'm not sure.. I do need to clean my house though, its been a while since I last cleaned it." ever since the men appeared in your room your house has.. sort of been trashed.
Not entirely trashed (Thoma, Kazuha, Diluc, Tighnari and Al-haitham kept the house clean) but still, you really needed to do a deep clean—ever since you've bought a house it really has been a hassle to keep everything in place as you were still in college and had to multi-task.
The mention of cleaning your house definenetly perked some heads up. "Cleaning? I can help!" Thoma offers, eyes shining with excitement (yes he loves cleaning and cooking and everything domestic, he IS the male wife).
"Me too!" "me three, I can help as well!" others chimed in as well, Childe stood up and raised his hand. "I will be the biggest help, don't worry Y/n! What's the biggest job I can do?"
Everybody groaned at the ginger's words and shook their heads in disappointment. Giving his words a thought, you hummed and put on your thinking face.
"Hm.. well I would say cleaning every single crevice you know.. the nook and crannies." you replied, smiling at Childe. He immediately grabbed a duster and set off to clean single crevice.
"I'll wipe the surfaces and all." Al-haitham states, getting up and grabbing some wipes before doing his thing.
"I'll organize your clothes Y/n! Oh and ours too"
"I'll go mop the floors."
Soon, you pretty much gave everybody a role to do (or they just gave themselves the role) and they all set off to do their jobs. Honestly, this had to be one of the best days ever—your house was going to be squeaky clean and plus you get to see them doing domestic chores.
"If you guys need any help just ask me okay?" you mentioned, dusting the books on a shelf. A collective "yes ma'am!" could be heard. They were so respectful it made you fold.
After what felt like hours of cleaning (it was, approximately 4 hours of cleaning) you flopped down on the couch along with a few others and heaved a great sight.
"Good job everybody!! the house looks so much cleaner now..." you sighed, chest heaving up and down. You were all tired, apart from Thoma, Tighnari, Al-haitham and Albedo, they still had energy left.
As you got up from the couch to fetch a glass of cold water, you got a fright from seeing Gorou sitting at your feet, looking up at you with puppy-dog eyes.
"Gorou? What's wrong?" you asked, your heart melting at the sight of his ears pressing flat against his head. Gorou stared up at you—his eyes glistening.
He inches closer to you, his arms wrapping around your legs. "What. Is. He. Doing." Childe whispered to Pantalone, eyeing Gorou with... some disgust. Pantalone shrugs. "Lord knows what."
"Uhm, If I may ask Y/n.. Do you think I did a good job today? For uh.. cleaning the house."
Your brows furrowed in confusion as he asked the question. What does that even have to do with anything.. "Yes, you have, why?" you questioned, watching Gorou lower his gaze to the floor.
Everybody watches as the scene unfolds, they were confused, scared, worried, but more so confused.
"Could I get a head-pat?" Gorou asked quietly, his eyes still focused on the floor, his head lowered as if to invite you to pat your head. Was he asking for a head-pat (some kind of reward) for his hard work?
Nodding your head, you began to pat his head softly, enjoying how soft his hair was, your hands would occasionally caress his ears and my god were they super soft!! Heat rushed to Gorou's cheeks as he realized you had no intention of stopping. Not that he was complaining.
"Gorou.. did you know your hair is very soft? Like, unbelievably soft! I could touch it all day if I could.." you exclaimed, if Gorou allowed you, you would definenetly be running your fingers through his hair furiously because it was just way too soft.
You wondered if the other's hair were soft too, I mean, all of theirs's looks soft, Neuvillette and Ayato's looked soft and silky. You should go look for an excuse to touch their hair soon..
As everybody watched Gorou enjoy his head-pats, they all eyed him with jealousy (if you look closely you can clearly see fume coming out of their ears right now), wishing that they were in his position—receiving head-pats from you, what a dream. And they were sure to make it come true.
"Ahem, dearest Y/n, don't you think that I too, did a fantastic job in scrubbing the shower too?" Kaeya sighs dramatically, sliding down and sitting next to you, batting his pretty eyelashes at you.
You turned to face him, pursuing your lips. "Well.. I mean.. yeeeessss..?"
It was a bit confusing after that, Kaeya asked for you to pat his head as well, saying that he "deserved it" (which he did) but then after that the others started to ask for some head-pats too. So in the end you had to give everybody a head-pat, it was very time consuming.
Soon, it was 1 pm—it was time for lunch. Time has gone by so fast with them, you (unfortunately) stop petting Al-haitham's hair and stand up from the couch.
"I'll go make some lunch now okay? Something simple like maybe a sandwich or something, is anyone hungry?"
While a few replied with "I'm hungry" some replied saying that they weren't hungry and would eat a snack of some sort. You began to grab out the ingredients to make a simple grilled cheese sandwich.
You made sure that the men weren't allergic to anything beforehand, you would definenetly not be having beans around Itto at all, while you were busy making everybody sandwiches, Zhongli sat on the chair behind the kitchen counter, watching your every move.
It was sort of uncomfortable, yes, but you didn't really mind at all. You were used to their curious stares after all.
"Zhongli, would you like to be the first one to try it out? I want to see if I need to add anything or fix anything up."
This wasn't your first time making sandwiches but still, you were positive they weren't used to your (earth) sandwiches so why not make Zhongli your taste-tester?
Zhongli nods his head, giving you a warm smile in the process and god was he so handsome. "Of course, It would be an honor to be the first to taste your sandwich." and with that you placed the plate – with the grilled cheese sandwich on it – on the counter, waiting for Zhongli to take his first bite and his opinions on it.
As Zhongli grabs the sandwich and takes the first bite, munching on it. You weren't nervous at all, watching him eat your sandwich. Okay that was a lie you were totally nervous. I mean making a grilled cheese sandwich? Nothing big! But the fact that Zhongli, a handsome, fine, fancy man is sitting right across from you and eating your sandwich is!!!
Studying his face got you nowhere. His face was as always, nonchalant and somewhat still, after swallowing, he looked up and set his gaze on your face.
"It's... amazing! I've never had anything like this before, a simple grilled cheese sandwich I've had but to have it made from you and in your household, in your world, makes it all the better. The taste is also immaculate, truly other worldly. Quite literally."
You crack a smile at his joke at the end and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god.. so it's okay, thanks Zhongli!" you thanked him before going back to making some more before finally setting them all down on the kitchen table, counter, and coffee tables (and some other places as well since those all of them can't fit in three spots).
Tighnari had noticed that you had a couple of plants in your home, they were.. not in the best condition, he had to say. But that was no problem! He could help you raise and take care of them.
"Say, Y/n. Please do not take any offense to this whatsoever but do you take care of your plants?"
The question was out of the blue, yes, and it did catch you off-guard for sure. "Oh- uh, my plants? Well the truth is I haven't really been taking care of them.. I mean I would love to but I'm very forgetful." You explained while smiling sheepishly, it was embarrassing after all.
Tighnari nods at your response and offers you help to which you obviously agree to! I mean who wouldn't? He would take care and nurture your dying plants? Deal!
Everybody began to eat lunch as for the ones who weren't hungry just lounged in your room, Al-haitham read a historical book that you haven't even finished reading (you only bought it because of you thought the cover was really vintage), Pierro stood in front of your window, staring out to the view of the skyscrapers and buildings. Albedo and Cyno were sitting on your bed in silence, waiting for you to finish eating and come back.
"What a total weirdo.." Cyno whispers to Albedo, eyeing the tall, old (and stinky, that's what they call him) fatui. Albedo simply glances at Pierro and looks back at Cyno, confused. "How so? I think it's totally normal to gaze out of the window, don't you think? I mean, the view is absolutely fantastic out there.. so many things we've never seen and don't you agree that the flowers that bloom down near the window looks absolutely-"
Cyno groaned as Albedo ranted on and on, what Albedo was trying to say was basically, staring out the window was "normal". But of course, he couldn't be rude about it so he had to painfully listen to Albedo spitting out nonsense.
Finally, you (along with others) finished your food and washed your dish before walking into your room, leaving everybody else who was still not done (Heizou, Kaveh and surprisingly, Tighnari, are slow eaters).
"You're done eating? What do you want to do now?" Pierro asked, his voice rumbling deeply that it gave Cyno a spook, it gave him the hibbie jibbies. Humming, you thought about your answer but concluded that you wanted to do nothing but sleep.
"Eh, not really. I do want to get a nap in though, I'm sort of tired." You yawned, flopping down onto your bed between Cyno and Albedo. "Would you want us to leave and let you sleep in peace or..?" Pierro asked once again, his face scanning yours.
You shake your head, covering your body in your sheets and curling into a ball. "I'm okay with you guys here don't worry. Pierro could you close the blinds please?"
Pierro nods and closes the blinds at your command, the room now dimly lit. Soon your heavy eyelids take over, but not before the sound of the door clicking open and then followed by Childe complaining about you leaving him.
The obvious sounds of groaning and complaints about Childe could be heard too (Itto was complaining REALLY loudly.), Cyno shushes everybody entering your room, pointing at your trying-to-fall-asleep figure.
"Ooooh, whoops! Sorry Y/n!" Childe apologizes, cringing at the thought of his loud voice waking you up. You could barely hear him though, drowsiness taking over your body and thoughts, nothing was left in your brain except for one thing—sleep.
Kaeya rolls his eyes at Childe before slowing and carefully closing the door shut. "It's only 2:30 pm, isn't sleeping in the afternoon bad or something?" Gorou asked, peeking his head from behind Itto to look at you.
Albedo hums. "Well, yes, but considering that they have been tiring themselves out since we've arrived, I think they deserve this well-deserved rest. Don't you agree?"
The surrounding men agreed, nodding their heads. "I agree, we should let Y/n sleep, I think I should too, without Y/n I'll be bored..." Kazuha yawns, already getting ready to take an afternoon nap with you.
After Kazuha laid down on the mattress, a few others started to mirror his actions. Itto, Ayato, Capitano, Thoma and Kaveh began to settle down on the mattresses while the others went to the other room to take a nap as well (some didn't want to so they stayed out of the rooms and watched the TV or played board games).
Normally when you sleep during the afternoon, you would wake up in the middle of the night, and oftentimes you fail to fall back asleep. And that is exactly what happened to you.
In the dimly lit room, darkness envelops every corner. The only source of light is the faint glow seeping through the curtains, painting the room in a hazy ambiance. You lie on your bed peacefully, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with each gentle breath you take in your sleep, the softness of the pillows cradling your head.
The darkness of the room seems to cocoon you and everybody, it is as if the night itself has woven a protective blanket around you all, the silence is broken only by the distant hum of the city, a lullaby that lulls you deeper into your peaceful slumber.
But soon, your eyelids flutter gently, and in the dark room, you can hazily make out the scene before you. Outside, the moon casted its soft glow through the window, casting delicate patterns on the bodies of the men and on the wall. It illuminates your face.
It was so comforting to you, the soft glow of the moonlight completing everything.
As you take in your surroundings you begin to understand that you were cuddling Kazuha while Ayato had his arms wrapped around you. Smiling softly, you snuggled in closer to Kazuha's chest—pressing your cheek against his warm and slowly rising chest.
And in this dimly lit room, you slumber on, oblivious to the world outside. The darkness embraced you like a mother's embrace, offering comfort, it is a place where dreams are born and nurtured, where the imagination takes flight and as the night deepens and silence engulfs the room, you continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of the outside world.
But then before you could fall asleep your eyes shot open, I have to work tomorrow. Groaning, you nuzzled your face more into Kazuha's chest, knowing the next day would be tiring.
note: IM SO SORRY FOR PROCRASTINATINGGGG i just got home a couple days ago and my jet lag is pretty bad and i have to work and all of that jazz!! thankfully i got myself together and finished it :)
taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @hex-vx @saltylovetale @backintomykpopphaseagain @toramune @oreo-ren @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @amaizverydum @lovelive-animequeen1029 @roseapov @yuraasia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealamp @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanisty @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-sh @merormerry @gojoulen03 @scarletttcroww @hadischara @kithewanderingme @keiqq @livelaughlovekuni @chirikoheina @wr1t3rfum1k0 @issacdaholi @yu-ulda @alysinbshsu
(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter!)
liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!
#genshin impact x reader#kaeya x reader#albedo x reader#diluc x reader#zhongli x reader#xiao x reader#baizhu x reader#kazuha x reader#ayato x reader#itto x reader#gorou x reader#heizou x reader#venti x reader#neuvillette x reader#wriothesley x reader#freminet x reader#childe x reader#dainsleif x reader#aether x reader#pantalone x reader#pierro x reader#capitano x reader#lyney x reader#cyno x reader#al haitham x reader#kaveh x reader#dottore x reader#wanderer x reader#thoma x reader#genshin impact x you
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♪ — 𝟱 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦, 𝗠𝗩𝟭
max verstappen x fem! reader (fluff)
“. . . using his five senses, these are his favourite things about you.”
( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests | taglist )
Sight
his blue eyes appreciate anything and everything you give him.
He already thinks of you as eye candy or an angel right from a rococo painting.
But what it does for him is seeing you do something you enjoy.
If you’re playing video games or playing with his cats.
He sometimes takes videos or photos secretly so he can watch later or just to open and randomly appreciate you when he’s travelling and misses you.
“They’re so pretty,” You giggled as you watched the dolphin swim around in its tank. Max was glad he was already filming your excitement because one of the mammals noticed you and was playing with you. Sliding right and left, Max knew he was going to set the video as his lock screen later if he doesn't record for over three minutes like he always does.
Touch
One of Max's favorite things ever is hugging you or holding you in any way.
It helps keep him grounded other than the fact that you’re warm and he loves having contact with you.
You’re one of the first people he hugs after a race, an anchor helping him return to the world.
You’re the first thing he reaches for when he wakes up in the morning or before going to sleep at night.
It’s also the reason it’s difficult for him to travel without you because you’re his safe person and his source of comfort.
“All we are missing now is-” You paused, lifting your eyes from the shopping list to the hand, trying to uncross your legs. You didn’t question it, sitting properly so the blond can gently hold your thigh as he wished. Max was driving with you in the passenger seat so he couldn’t really turn and see why you paused. “Schat, I can’t read your handwriting- but we need cat food.” Max nodded in agreement, his thumb gently caressing your thigh as he made a left turn.
Smell
One of Max’’s favourite things is when you put on lotion
It has a certain sweet stubble scent that’s quite calming
he considers it your signature scent. only yours.
he also likes it when he randomly smells you on his things, like his shirts or jackts, msybe his controller or his car. it makes him all giddy
He always tells you ‘that smells nice’ and other times he just holds your hand to take a whiff
“Did you put sunscreen on?” You ask as you make sure you packed everything you need. “I don’t need it.” He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence because you already squeezed a bit and started gently rubbing it on his face. Max rolls his eyes for a second before scrunching his nose. “The sun screen covers your lotion.” He complains disappointed, making you playfully shake your head.
Hearing
max adores hearing you calling him pet names,
whether it's something like love, sweetheart, maxie, baby, darling, sweets,
or something sweet in french; amore, mon core, mon cher,
It gets worse if you speak dutch. Liefje, honing, schat, schatje.
It makes his heart go ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum and his thoughts get all tangled up and mushy
"Maxie, Shatje," You call from somewhere far in the apartment, making the blond turn around instantly, his big blue eyes searching for you and your voice. He hopped out of his chair and abandoned his sim in favour of finding you. “Amour?” “Yea?” “Liefje, can you zip up this dress for me.” Oh you got him right in his excited heart.
Taste
Max is not a huge coffee or juice drinker. All he ever drinks or needs are in his protein shakes or his red bull fridge.
But if you’re making a smoothie or experimenting with coffee and offer him a sip for his opinion or to show him how good it turned out,
he takes it as an honor,
especially if he’s drinking it out of your hand.
“Woo!” is the first thing he hears from the kitchen a few seconds after the loud noise of the blender stops. He peeks his head out of the bathroom still wet from his shower when he hears your excited hops/sprinting to his direction. “Maxie!” You hold up the glass with the pinkish smoothie he can assume is strawberries and something else. “Try?” You offer, and Max doesn't hesitate to lean forward, taking a sip, his eyes lighting up at the taste of bananas and a hint of mandarin. “That’s too good, I’m keeping this,” He teases, gently taking the glass from your hands, continuing to drink the smoothie while you follow the half-naked dutch in protest.
#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾#﹒your lovers and you ﹒𐙚#max verstappen#mv1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max x reader#f1#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula one x reader#f1 fic#mv33 fic#mv33 x reader#mv33#mv1 x you#mv1 x reader#mv1 x y/n#mv1 imagine#mv33 imagine#mv33 x you
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I’ve seen you post some labru stuff and I’m curious what your thoughts on it are. personally I don’t see it? I can buy Kabru having feelings for Laios, but I think Laios wouldn’t be interested in Kabru, so it makes me wonder why so many people ship them. (Tbh I feel like Kabru has more chemistry with Mithrun anyway)
Sorry if this ask sounds rude, I just genuinely don’t understand the appeal of the ship, but I want to understand and I trust your analysis of characters very much :] maybe there’s something I’m missing
I really like both ships, actually!
For labru, there’s sooooo much I could talk about. The inherent homoeroticism of being narrative foils. The inherent homoeroticism of being the king’s advisor. All of chapter 76. The fact that Kabru has mask upon mask upon mask, and Laios is the first person that made his facade absolutely crumble.
Kabru struggles with being genuine!!! Everything he says and does is so perfectly calculated, even when he sort of means it. But since Laios doesn’t get social cues, Kabru gets thrown for a loop.
I get so frustrated when people act like Kabru still hates Laios by the end of the manga!!!!! He killed those corpse retrievers for being corrupt, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to kill Laios. He has such a strong sense of justice, and knew that killing Laios would be a mistake. Because, after meeting him, he could tell he wasn’t actually evil. He’s strange, sure, but not evil.
Kabru DEFINITELY wants to be friends with Laios!! He was not lying about this!!!
But this last comic shows how much Laios wants to be friends with Kabru, too. He’s so nervous after calling Kabru his friend 😭 he doesn’t want to be presumptuous and fuck it up again.
Laios does show an interest in Kabru, at least when Laios thinks he’s interested in eating monsters too. Like,, what was up with THIS
Laios’s gaze is LINGERING. Plus, (this is before that bit at Thistle’s house when he forgets his name) he brings up Kabru when they first form their plan to eat Falin.
And maybe this is just because of my own personal experiences, but Laios reminds me a lot of my own girlfriend. I think they have a similar flavor of gay/aspec & autism combo where, had I not asked her out first, she probably never would have considered being interested in me. But she was very down when I did.
The tricky part about labru is more the political aspect. Regardless of whether you see Laios as aroace or not, he’s in a situation where he will probably get married. He had a fiancée before he was age 13, likely betrothed since he was a baby. He’s already comfortable with the idea of getting married because He’s Supposed To.
However, Laios is king, and could make gay marriage legal if he wanted to (He would probably do this for his sister and Marcille before considering it for himself ). But at the same time, I think Kabru would object to Laios making whatever policies he wants without considering the repercussions of how other kingdoms might react, especially when they’re just getting Melini off the ground and need lots of support from other countries. Laios and Kabru getting gay married anyway and dealing with the aftermath could make for a really compelling story.
I do think Kabru would be a good ruler. He’s already fit for it. He speaks a dozen languages, he knows people and their motivations, and likes politics. The manga already joked about Chilchuck’s daughters trying to marry a king, so it seems like noble blood isn’t too important, but Kabru’s foster family IS nobility. When it comes to heirs, I do like trans Kabru headcanons, but at the same time, I think it’d be cute if they adopt anyway. Kabru seems like he’d have strong feelings about adoption given,,, yknow.
The alternative version of labru to this is Laios gets straight married out of obligation, and Kabru is his mistress hdhdhshsj. I don’t know if I could see Laios doing that? or if Kabru would risk the scandal of being outed as Royal Advisor and Regent trying to seduce the king. It could go SO downhill. but maybe that would be fun.
NOW FOR KABUMISU.
I knew people shipped them, and I could see the basis for it while reading, but I wasn’t really sold on it until the very end. There’s something about “I had no desires left. I decided to create new desires, and one of them is you” that’s really charming.
There’s also something funny about “the demon ate my heterosexuality so I’m gay now”
I think it’s interesting that Kabru hates elves. He was raised by them, and he hates them. He hates feeling patronized by them. He made absolutely sure that elves wouldn’t take control over Melini, not just for his sake, but for Rin’s.
But Mithrun’s interactions with Kabru are founded on more mutual respect. Though, that’s not to say that Mithrun doesn’t still have his biases towards short lived races..
Where Laios doesn’t understand social cues, Mithrun does but just doesn’t care. For that reason, I think Kabru would enjoy spending time with Mithrun. It’d give him a break from his compulsion to calculate all of his social interactions. But at the same time, Kabru is the KING at bottling his emotions. Mithrun is blunt, but also doesn’t care enough to pry. If Kabru had anything bothering him, I could imagine him seeking Mithrun’s company to avoid thinking about it. Could make for a fun dynamic.
I do think it’s funny that Milsiril 1) took care of Mithrun for potentially 20 years and 2) is only four years older than him. I imagine this could lead to funny situations.
I don’t ship things for no reason! I think both of these could work platonically, romantically, one-sided, or even “requited but they don’t do anything about it.” Their relationships compel me and I think it’s sort of bad faith to brush off either like they’re nothing more than baseless yaoi pair-the-spares. To me, I see just as much of a foundation in the source material as farcille.
After all, dungeon meshi isn’t a story about romance, but it IS a story about love. It’s a story about life and death and grief and the love that comes with it. Regardless of shipping, these characters love each other!!! And I love talking about it!!
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Can't Leave Me
Pairing: Dark Hawks x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
Female Reader
SUMMARY: Seeing a darker side of Keigo has you rethinking your entire relationship. But it’s not like Keigo is planning on letting you go.
WARNINGS: Murder; Kidnapping.
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
–
His hand rubs comforting circles over the expanse of your back, innumerous apologies being mumbled as he kisses the crown of your head.
“I should’ve eased you into it. I‘m so sorry, baby.” his tone is apologetic, almost regretful, but you can’t be bothered by that.
Not after what you witnessed.
The queasiness in your stomach increases, and you swallow hard, closing your eyes in a poor attempt to control both yourself and the wave of nausea that threatens to rise.
“Next time, I promise I’ll let you know beforehand, ‘kay? No more nasty surprises, I promise.” his cooing has you pushing your palms against the edge of the marble kitchen island, and you take a few stumbling steps backwards.
“I really thought you’d like to see my patriotic work.”
“You…” his golden eyes squint for a second when you dodge his hand from touching your arm, “That man-”
“He’s no one. Just some fucking dirtbag I caught the other day on patrol. No one even cares that he’s gone, if that makes you feel better.”
You look at him in bewilderment, unable to believe his words. Was Keigo - always so sweet and gentleman - trying to convince you that killing people was fine? That it was okay for his basement to have pools of blood and pieces of human limbs?
The pungent smell of fresh blood is still haunting your nose and you scrunch it, remembering the nasty scene your boyfriend presented you.
When Keigo asked you to come to his house, telling you he had a surprise stored in his basement for you, your mind wandered to the idea of receiving a sweet gift.
Maybe a painting or a bracelet, anything with a romantic meaning. A normal thing.
But when Keigo took you to his basement, chest inflated with pride at what he called “city scum cleaning” it wasn’t at all what you expected.
“You’re worrying too much.” he sighs, his wings ruffling behind him. “I’m cleaning the city from the filthy scum, nothing else.”
“They’re human beings, Keigo. You can’t take justice into your own hands, that’s not your job.”
Keigo only shrugs his shoulders, disinterested at your attempt to bring some conscience to him.
“I know this upsetted you, baby, so why don’t we change the subject? How about we start making dinner and then watch a movie? I know you’re excited to see that new action movie, right?”
His proposition makes you feel sick to your stomach for more reasons than one, but the realization that your boyfriend is trying to distract you from the fact that he’s a serial killer is too much.
You need to leave. Immediately.
But you’re scared. Terrified of becoming Keigo’s new addition to his basement, if he realizes that you’re not on his side. You’re not sure if he loves enough to spare you from such destiny.
You’re not sure of anything anymore.
You shift the weight from one foot to the other, eyes drifting to the kitchen door.
“I think…” your voice shakes, and you attempt to clear your throat, “Maybe I should go, Keigo. I’m not…feeling great.”
His expression drops for a moment, cold anger being replaced with feigned sympathy so quickly that you almost believe you imagined it.
“Sweet cheeks, if you’re not feeling well, then you can just sleep over.” he takes a minuscule step in your direction, his wings stretching behind him for a moment. Demonstrating their enormous size before he pulls them back.
A not very subtle threat.
“I can prepare a warm bath for you, and then get you in bed with some painkillers. How about that?”
You shake your head, feeling helpless.
“No, Keigo, it’s fine, really. I can just go home and-”
“Nonsense. Besides, I don’t like the idea of you all alone in your apartment, especially if you’re feeling sick.” he brushes you off, “I can’t have you puking or passing out when you’re on your own. What kind of boyfriend would that make me, am I right?”
A few of his feathers gracefully fly in your direction, gently but effectively pushing you forward.
The conflict inside your mind only fires up, but you’re hardly able to bitterly swallow down all the shabby excuses and useless begging that would only result in angering Keigo.
Your body bumps against his and Keigo instantly wraps his arm around your waist, replacing the feathers that rejoin his wings.
He kisses your cheek with an arm tightly gripping your waist, as if he’s waiting for you to bolt and run away. You’d be lying if you say the idea doesn’t seem awfully tempting.
Maybe if he looks away or gets distracted…maybe then you could take the chance.
“C’mon, let’s get you a bath, ‘kay? You’re really not looking too good.”
The melancholic moonlight hits you in the face, seeping through the locked window. Your eyes are wide open, despite the ungodly time of the night. It’s quiet now, aside from the light cricket’s sounds and the occasional car speeding up through the street.
You barely move your head as you glance towards the fluorescent numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table next to you, careful enough to shift as little as you can.
The arm draped across your waist feels like a rope, keeping you bound to Keigo.
But it’s better than the red wing that lays wide open in all of its immense size, acting as a second blanket to your body, caging you to the bed with its oppressive weight.
Despite your objections of becoming too hot during the night, Keigo still insisted on covering your body with it, shutting you down with a gentle kiss.
He sleeps soundly, his chest a few inches away from your chest, his deep calm breathing hitting your ear and neck.
You can’t sleep. Your mind is too bothered, too upset to even consider something as futile as sleeping when there are more urgent necessities. Such as escaping this house.
Keigo fell into a deep slumber a few hours ago while you remained awake, thinking about your next steps. You have to leave the bed, leave the house, leave him.
But even the last step seems complicated when you can’t even pull yourself out of the bed - out of Keigo’s suffocating embrace.
You’re frozen with fear, you begrudgingly admit. Scared of accidentally waking Keigo up and in the process, to wake a side of him that you don’t want to see.
You have to do this.
The first step is to test the waters.
You take a deep breath, slowly shifting your body, your hand gently pushing his arm down and away from you. Nothing happens.
Your heartbeat speeds up as you embrace yourself for the final step.
Looking down at the impending problem of escaping the red wing, you take the decision to slide underneath it.
It’s awkward and embarrassing when you weirdly dive underneath the wing, squishing yourself against the bed as you try to touch the feathers as little as you can. They don’t pulse or move, remaining completely still as you make your escape.
A relieved sigh gets caught in your throat when your feet touch the floor. Just a little more, you think, bending your body to slide down the curve of the bed.
Premature hope makes your breathe faster. Maybe you can actually get away.
Oh god, you’re actually going to get away.
Your whole body freezes for a scary moment when Keigo mumbles a few incoherent words, shifting and turning in bed, but thankfully he remains asleep. You can breathe again.
It’s a bit hard to walk in the darkness, only the dim light of the moon helping you guide yourself, as your feet take baby steps and you prod the walls with your hands until you finally find the closet room.
The door creaks slightly as you slowly close it, and you hold your breath for a moment. Nothing happens.
You open the light, hoping it doesn’t infiltrate through the door’s crack and search the place with your eyes, looking for your clothes. Keigo kept them there before handing you one of his shirts earlier in the night, saying that it would be more comfortable for you to sleep in his clothes than in your outer clothes.
It’s easy to find your shirt and pants, both of them tucked away in a corner of the room, the evident contrast between Keigo’s expensive clothing and your cheap casual outfit standing out.
You quickly put them on, looking around for your purse before remembering that you had left it in the kitchen. Fuck.
You close the light, and silently leave the closet.
“Babe.”
Your blood runs cold at the sight of Keigo casually standing in front of you, arms crossed in his chest. There’s no anger in his face - nor sleepiness, you notice - but there are hints of annoyance. Did he really expect you not to try and run?
“I’m kinda disappointed, I gotta say.” he shakes his head with a tired sigh. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t do anything stupid tonight. Guess I was wrong.”
“I wasn’t-” your words lose strength, and for a moment, the idea of dashing for the door with all of your speed seems incredibly enticing, “It’s not what you think.”
“Yeah? Pfft, c’mon, you seriously think you’re gonna fool me into believing any crappy excuse? Like I didn’t just catch you trying to sneak off on me?” he clicks his tongue, messy strands of blonde hair falling onto his forehead, “But you know what?”
It’s now. The moment he switches the flip on you and beats you and-
“Let’s continue this tomorrow, alright? It’s late, so how about we sleep on this and in the morning, we’ll talk.”
You look at him, surprised. Isn’t he gonna drag you by the hair to his basement and beat you?
Keigo directs you back to the closet, watching as you hesitate to change back into his shirt.
“That was never gonna work, you know that, right?” he says. “It’s not like you could outrun me. I’m too fast for you, with or without quirk.”
When you get back on the bed, his wing covers you once again and his arm pulls you flush against his chest, suffocating you with his presence.
He kisses the nape of your neck.
“Sleep tight.”
You wake up startled, mind buzzing with a chilling nightmare. Red blood and sticky viscera follow you even though you rise away from the realm of dreams.
You breathe in. It was just a dream.
Distant sounds coming from another room catch your attention and you remain quiet, catching the tiny rays of sunlight that come through the curtains, basking on pacific solitude.
What are you supposed to do now? Relent and pretend that everything is peachy, to act as if the basement isn’t torture chamber and that your boyfriend isn’t some cold-hearted killer?
You roll to the side, yelping when your leg gets caught on.
A chain.
A soft leather wrapped tightly around your ankle, connecting it to the links of metal that keep you in a short leash. There’s barely any length to it, meaning you won’t even be able to reach the bathroom if you need to.
This can’t be real.
You persistently rub your eyes, shaking your head as fear threatens to spill in the shape of a panic attack.
Keigo wouldn’t do this. He can’t do this. He just can’t.
Much to your consternation, you don’t wake up. This isn’t some wicked dream, after all.
“No, no, please, no.” you cry, pulling and tugging on the solid chain with both of your hands. It doesn’t work, despite all the clicking it does. Doesn’t so much as move away from your ankle.
But it does make a shrilling noise and soon Keigo rushes into the room, a worried expression on his face before he understands what you’re doing.
He plops next to you, firm hands pulling your shaky ones away from the chain, despite you not giving up and you yelp when he uses his strength to expertly twist your wrist, forcing you to let go of the chain.
“Keigo, please, don’t…don’t do this. I promise I won’t run away, I swear!” you plead, snot and tears pathetically dripping down your face as Keigo pulls you into his lap, a large hand securing both of your wrists.
“Keigo…”
“Shh, it’s okay. Everything is fine, it’s all okay.”
It only makes you cry harder. One of his hands rubs your back while the other holds the back of your neck, pushing your face to his chest.
“C’mon, don’t cry. You know how awful that makes me feel.” he presses a gentle kiss to your head, rocking your bodies back and forth, comforting you as if you were a child throwing a tantrum.
“You left me no choice. You were gonna leave me, abandon me like I never meant anything to you.” his voice is almost quiet and you know that if you looked up, his face would resemble a kicked puppy.
It almost makes you feel bad until the stupid chain in your ankle clinks, reminding you that Keigo isn’t a good man.
“But it’s okay now. I know you’re not happy with… our current situation, but you’ll soon see it my way. I’m doing this for you - for us.”
His arms tightened around your wriggling body, keeping you close to him.
“I’m not letting anything get between us. Not even you.”
#@mrsdarkandyandere7#yandere bnha#yandere mnha#dark bnha#yandere my hero academia#bnha x reader#mha x reader#yandere x reader#hawks x reader#yandere hawks#yandere hawks x reader#yandere!hawks x reader#dark hawks x reader#yandere keigo takami#yandere keigo takami x reader#yandere keigo x reader#tw: yandere#tw: kidnapping
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You and Kiri Overhear Lo’ak Giving Neteyam Advice On How To Ask You Out (SFW / Comfort)
Reader is Fem! Omaticaya
CW: fluffy fluff, Neteyam is adorable, Lo’ak and Kiri duo strike again, all this is based on this one tik tok sound that I heard that was SO adorable, and it screamed Neteyam
“I’m telling you, that boy is obsessed! I’ve never seen someone pine over another so much,” Kiri laughed, giving you a playful shove.
“You’re just trying to make me feel better. If he liked me as much as you said, he would’ve said something already,” you playfully rolled your eyes, waving your friend off.
You two had just finished healing lessons with Mo’at, and were now on your way back to the Sully tent to hang out with the boys.
Kiri was swearing up and down that the feelings you had for Neteyam were very valid and very mutual, but you weren’t buying it.
Neteyam was a warrior, a Sully, a future Olo’eyktan.
You were just a simple girl who wanted to become a simple healer.
In your eyes, there was nothing special about you. You weren’t the best hunter, singer, or dancer.
So why would he ever like you?
A romantic relationship with Neteyam was a pipe dream. And to keep from getting hurt, you reminded yourself of this fact over and over again.
“Well, my brother may not look it, but he’s an idiot. And a shy one at that. But that shyness and idiocy is alllll for you,” Kiri teased, giving you a few pokes in the stomach.
“Quit it!” you laughed, frantically shoving her hands away.
That was your tickle spot.
“You’re crazy! I could never say that!” a familiar voice exclaimed from inside a nearby tent.
You and Kiri quieted your giggles, turning to each other in confusion before moving closer to the home, peeking through a small tear.
“Shut it! Do you want the whole clan to hear?!” Lo’ak harshly whispered, shushing his older brother.
Neteyam.
“I’m sorry, but that’s far too bold. I’ll scare her away,” Neteyam dismissed, resting his hands on his knees, which were sat criss-cross.
Her?
You felt a piece of your heart break, and tears well in your eyes.
They were talking about a girl. One who Neteyam seemed fond of.
“We should go. It’s rude to listen in,” you whispered, your voice small and slightly broken.
Why were you feeling this way?
A lump in your throat seemed to grow larger and larger every time his words replayed in your head.
You had tried to push away your feelings, but at the first mention of another girl, it was made perfectly clear that you could not hide emotions so intense.
And Kiri was quick to pick up on this.
“Now hold on a minute. Let’s hear the rest,” she held your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.
Little did the two of you know, Lo’ak had heard every word you said, and was now going to make it his mission to put on a show for Neteyam’s girl outside.
He knew his brother was a painful over-thinker, and would never make the first move on you.
So why not give him a little push?
“Okay, so what do you want to tell her then?” Lo’ak started again with a sigh, giving his brother tired eyes.
Neteyam groaned, raking a nervous hand through his braids. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Girls love compliments. So you gotta compliment her. Tell me a feature of (y/n)’s you like,” Lo’ak smiled, hopefully talking loud enough so you could hear
“Her eyes. They’re so big and beautiful, and have such a pretty, yellow color to them. I want to tell her this, but how should I?” Neteyam asked again.
“Just say it, bro. Walk up to her, flash her a nice smile, then say, Hey, (y/n). Did anyone ever tell you your eyes are beautiful?” Lo’ak demonstrated, making a Neteyam face at the last part.
You blushed so hard you thought you might burst.
Neteyam felt this way...about you?
“See, there you go again. You may be able to say that, but I cannot. I do not......I do not have your confidence,” Neteyam looked down at himself, hanging his head.
This was pathetic.
He needed to get help from his baby brother in order to talk to you.
He had faced his Iknimaya, Sky People, even his angry dad. But talking to you was scarier than all of those three things combined.
Lo’ak gasped, abruptly standing up from his seat. “You have loads to be confident about, bro! Just look at you.”
He smirked, walking over to his brother and giving him a firm pat on the back.
“You’re a strong warrior, a skilled hunter, and a killer with a bow and arrow. Not to mention you have the devilishly good looks of us Sully men. You’re the whole package, dude.”
Neteyam slightly smiled, thankful for his brother’s praise, but still on the fence about all this.
Lo’ak sighed, sitting down in front of the nervous boy.
“Let’s try something else. Why don’t you tell me what you like about her face? Her lips? Her hair? The way she braids her hair? What about-?” “I love all of it, okay!” Neteyam interrupted, unable to take this anymore.
“I can’t pick one thing to like because they all are perfect to me. She is perfect to me. But I cannot just walk up to her and tell her this because what if she does not feel the same. I’d have poured my heart out, only for it to spill on the floor.”
Damn.
Lo’ak had no idea his brother could be so poetic.
Sure, it would make him want to barf if anyone else had said it. But this was his brother, and he was happy for him.
Lo’ak smirked, realizing the trap he just led Neteyam in and giving his mental self a high-five.
Mission Accomplished.
Meanwhile, you were practically about to faint.
Your long time crush had just professed his love for you loud and proud.
And while you were over the moon with this news, Kiri’s I told you so face was starting to get on your nerves.
“C’mon. Let’s go before we get caught,” you whispered, getting ready to tip-toe away.
“You ladies can come in now!” Lo’ak cockily announced, you and Neteyam turning as pale as ghosts.
Shit.
...
taglist !!
@vane28282, @remutoast, @p1nkprint, @ladyorchidia, @anthonys-viscountess, @karmz-7319, @cantbuysophialove, @scarabruhs, @an0th3rsss, @deloe18, @mariiyoushi, @av1xar, @alexxcorona113, @may-and-lay, @overlyfancybreakfastfoods, @harshita-hiranyamayi, @qui-02, @myheartfollower, @morks-watermelon, @bangtanxberm, @adavenus, @sweetdayme4427, @lilac13
#avatar#avatar 2#avatar the way of water#na'vi x reader#na'vi x y/n#neteyam x reader#neteyam x y/n#neteyam fluff#atwow x reader#atwow#omitacaya
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hope we grow old, but we never grow up
james potter x fem!reader
upcoming content: fluff! mentions of reader being anxious in crowds, mentions of just having had sex but not smut, mentions of alcohol. lmk if you think i missed anything :)
authors note: i hope you like this! i’m still new to writing, so i tried my best! inspired by one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite artists: never grow up by niall horan!🎶 despite any photos used in the header, it’s important that people of all races can identify with my work so please let me know if any of the descriptive language i use is exclusionary, i’m trying my best!
word count: 2.8k
masterlist
“I hope we still dance like we're fallin' in love, Hope we still drink like we're back in the pub”
the noise inside the pub was so loud you could feel the floor shake beneath your feet, or maybe it was just your brain making it up. you were getting jostled and a man elbowed your shoulder, causing the cranberry juice in your cup to slosh over the edge. a sharp gasp escaped your lips that you were sure would get lost in the rowdy atmosphere but james quickly snapped his head to look back at you, eyes trailing down to the red liquid dripping down your hand.
“y’alright, sweetness?” big, brown eyes peering at you as the hustle and bustle of the crowd moved on around you both.
“i’m good,” you said back softly, squeezing his hand that had been tightly grasped in yours since the moment you both walked in. today was the final match of the rugby championship and everyone in town was together to watch in anticipation… and drink, no matter the outcome. james had sweetly invited you out with his friends a few nights ago and you of course said yes. the two of you had begun dating a few weeks ago, and you were eager to learn everything about him and spend as much time as possible with him, even if it meant trudging through sweaty, drunk bodies, resisting the urge to cover your ears.
“sirius got here early so he got a table for us already, we’re almost there,” james assured, squeezing your hand back. as you neared the large booth tucked away in the corner, the weight in your chest lifted at the sight of remus rolling his eyes at whatever sirius was saying, waving his hands expressively.
“they’re here! finally!” marlene squeaked and everyone’s eyes turned towards the two of you and they started making room for you both in the booth. you couldn’t stop the tingly feeling in your chest at how easily they accepted you in their tight-knit group.
“mate, where the fuck have you been?’ sirius exclaimed, slapping a hand on james back.
“if you couldn’t tell, he’s already had a bit to drink,” remus muttered in your ear as you leaned in for a half hug around him. when you first met, you were sure he didn’t like you despite james’ reassurances that he was just a quiet person naturally. you understood that, being quite shy yourself, but you still desperately wanted his friends to like you. so when you instinctually gave him a soft hug for the first time and he didn’t pull away, even initiating it the next time you saw him, you were sure you and remus were becoming good friends.
“oh, i’m sure,” you responded, eyes widening at the collection of empty pint glasses that littered the table.
“what’s the score?” james asked, cleaning his glasses against his sweater with one hand, squinting up at the screen, the other stayed wrapped around yours, even though you were both sitting comfortably.
“not good jamesie, why’d y’think i’ve been drinking so much already?” sirius said, taking another swig of his beer.
throughout the night james was intensely focused on the match, going between not even breathing as he stared at the screen to groaning or shouting with sirius whenever his team made a play. you were fine with the fact that he wasn’t paying much attention to you, knowing this game was so important to him, and you and marlene were catching up anyway.
“y’having a good time, honey bee?” james asked, looking down at you for the first time in a while, his large arm wrapping around your shoulders, warmth immediately overtaking you. you could tell he’s well past tipsy, eyes alight with bubbly frivolity.
“honey bee? that’s new”
“‘cus you’re so sweet,” his hand that wasn’t grabbing at your shoulder came up to stroke your cheek and you were sure he could feel it warming up under his touch. the subsequent smirk that crawled across his face affirmed your theory, all adoring if not a tad smug, but he was charming enough to get away with it.
“i am having a good time, yeah, i mean, i don’t really understand what’s going on but it’s cute seeing you so focused.”
james laughed and you felt his chest rumble against your cheek as he tugged you in closer, “mm, it’s probably good that you don’t anyway, we’re getting absolutely shitted on.”
“it’s only half time, it can still turn around!” sirius slurred emotionally with his head in his hands, a lot like the other patrons in the bar disappointed at the team's performance.
“keep telling yourself that, mate,” remus said, patting his back pitifully, still reading his book.
“you want another drink? i can go get you one,” james offered and you shook your head, preferring to stay relatively sober so james could have as much fun as he wanted. “you’ll let me know if you do though, right? anything you want, i’ll do it for you.”
for the umpteenth time tonight, and for the millionth time in your relationship so far, james made your heart stop as he looked down at you with his unwavering gaze. you knew he was only offering to navigate the crowded bar for you, knowing your aversion to crowds, but such a declaration paired with the tightness of his grip around your shoulders, how you could feel his heart beat against the soft of your arm if you focused enough. something about this moment, tucked away in a pub booth, felt like it was the beginning of forever.
“i know,” you breathed out softly and james lips quirked up in a small smile, as if instinctively, and with a single nod and press of his lips to your head before he turned back to the screen, you knew he felt the same way.
in a way that could only be described as a miracle, the team pulled through and as the reporters announced a home win, the crowd erupted in cheers. “praise be to god!” sirius cried, reaching for remus’ pint while remus tried to keep him away. he’d been cut off around thirty minutes ago when he attempted to throw marlene’s purse at the screen.
“sit down! you’re not even religious!” remus sighed, wrangling in his wild friend. you could only smile as remus tried to feign annoyance but couldn’t help but laugh when sirius started pressing congratulatory, sloppy kisses to his cheek.
“i can’t believe it!” james cried, wrapping his arms around your front, your back pressed to his chest as he towered over you. you were still sat in the booth but james had stood up five minutes before the match ended, pacing to get his nervous energy out.
you titled your head back to look up at him, genuine happiness radiating off his large form. “that was incredible!”
he looked down at you with a beaming grin, “it definitely was! did you see that last play? blimey, can’t believe we pulled it off!”
as he spoke you twisted on your butt to face him, and he caged you in between his spread thighs. “i know! i don’t know how they do it, i would get so tired- oh!”
you were no longer sitting, now fully upright with your feet dangling off the floor, arms tightly strewn around james’ neck as he lifted you in a hug. you could feel his hair tickle your cheek as he tucked his face into your neck. he spun you both around in staggering circles, having to stop when he felt the alcohol quickly begin to travel back up his stomach.
james couldn’t believe how perfect today was. his favorite team winning, surrounded by his friends, and at the center of it all was you. like a figurine from a snow globe come to life, so charming and sweet. so open to becoming friends with his friends, liking what he likes; he still doesn’t know how or why you agreed to a date with him, nonetheless put your trust in his rough hands, but he could only hope that soon he could carry your heart, and you his.
“this whole day is incredible,” he said, lips brushing against your ear as he set you down.
your guys’ bubble was popped when marlene shook your shoulders, not quite as gone as everyone else, but getting there as sangria glossed her lips “babes do you hear this?!” she let out loudly and you tuned back into reality, music now blasting through the speakers as the patrons danced and sung along happily.
“sorry to steal her from ya, but this is our song!” marlene slurred winking up at james who only shook his head and watched you get dragged to the middle of the makeshift dance floor and jump about with the other girls.
“to doing this all next year?” remus spoke, handing james a glass of water, with one for himself as well.
james chuckled and watched as sirius infiltrated your dance circle, horribly attempting to break dance, but you’d never guess based off of the encouraging woops! and wows! from you and the girls hyping him up.
james could do this again next year, and the year after that, he’d quite like it, he thinks.
“I think that we could be like that, every single Sunday in our Sunday best. Laughin' over nothin' with a full wine glass.”
“honey bee, i’m hopeless with this,” james grumbled, giving up on his tie and falling back against the bed. at your silence he rolled on his side to catch a glimpse of your face through the mirror. your lips twisted at the side, surely holding in a laugh you refused to grant him with, not wanting him to know he’s softening you up again.
“it might help if you button your shirt first,” you said, finally turning to face him. even with his face half squished against the mattress and hair sticking up in all directions he was still the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen.
his eyes slowly grazed up your figure, body he was just ravaging now covered in soft, flowy blue fabric, and your hair was tied up neatly with a bow. James let out a low whistle, heat immediately rising to your cheeks, “well would y’look at you,” he mumbled as if he was speaking to himself, “s’ gorgeous.”
you took a minute to collect yourself, shaking your head at how he still made you this flustered this far into your relationship. “thank you, love. you could look beautiful too if you got dressed.” you now sat primly on the sheets beside him, stroking his cheek.
“too tired,” he said, voice low as he engulfed the hand of yours on his cheek in his and brought it to his lips, “you really wore me out, baby.”
“james!” you chastised, trying to pull your hand away fruitlessly. he smirked against it and pressed a final kiss to your palm.
“what? you did! absolutely mindblowing! that thing y’ did with your hips… oh baby!” he moaned and you slapped a hand against his chest, walking back over to the mirror.
“clearly i didn’t hold up my end of the bargain if you’re able to get dressed s’ fast, lemme make it up to you, honey.”
“no!” you squeaked, quickly gathering your make up and running to the bathroom, james’ laugh echoing behind you. any more talk like that and he actually would convince you to go back to bed with him for another round. but you promised you’d go to marlene’s birthday dinner and you were really looking forward to it. in the back of your mind, you knew it was a mistake to get tangled up in the sheets so close to when you had to leave, knowing james could be absolutely insatiable when he wanted to, but you couldn’t resist!
for the next few minutes, you both got ready in silence. you applying light mascara and blush, and james trying to manage his hair. “need a haircut soon,” he said breaking the silence as he reached over you in the bathroom.
“me too, i think. but i like your hair long.”
“i know you do,” james remarked back, a haughty smirk donning his features once again, falling into a pure smile as you playfully rolled your eyes. as he combed some product into his thick locks you took in his appearance, a plain white t-shirt that hugged his muscles and framed his arms in a way that made you question if he was really from this earth or a Greek god, and fitted slacks, you recognized as the one’s you bought him a few months earlier, after claiming he had no nice going out clothes aside from jeans and the one tuxedo he had for a friends wedding.
“you look really nice, james” you said and he cast his gaze down to you through the mirror.
“thank you, sweetness,” he said back and two sentences, as simple as that, caused the love in the room to blow up like a balloon. the sultry, teasing energy from before now a pure adoration that hung in the air.
“we’re a good looking couple, aren’t we,” james said as you both finished, now looking at the two of you in the mirror.
a startled laugh escaped you, “i suppose we are,”
“no wonder i always want us to be having sex, i mean who could blame me!” james exclaimed, walking to the door, keys jingling in his hand.
“please get it all out now before we get to marlene’s, this is supposed to be a classy party!”
“oh, alright! but i’ll remember this when you’re grabbing at me later,” he said, holding open the car door for you.
“we’ll see about that.”
the sun was beginning to set, casting marlene’s back garden in an orange glow. she set up tables and chairs, all holding delicious food and wine, and fairy lights were strung along the awning.
“marls this looks amazing! happy birthday!” you said, giving her a hug.
“thank you! i love your dress! potter… you cleaned up nicely,”
“it was hard to find a clean shirt, but this one passed the smell test, didn’t it, love?” he joked back, twin gags coming from you and marlene before the three of you erupted into laughter.
“i want you to come meet my best friend at work, she’s so nice!” marlene said and in a flash you both were gone, pastel skirts flowing in the wind.
“‘bout time you got here!” sirius called, hugging james, “was starting to thing you wouldn’t show,”
“sorry, got caught up at home…”
remus rolled his eyes, already knowing what was coming.
“…if you know what i mean,” james finished, wiggling his eyebrows, eating up sirius’ wolf whistles and high fives.
“you keep us oddly informed of your sex life, you know that mate?” remus asked, pushing off james’ hand that took purchase in his hair.
“what else are brothers for?”
“ugh!” remus groaned.
“are they bothering you, rem?” you asked, pulling up a chair at their table.
“aren’t they always?” james and sirius let out matching offended scoffs as you laughed.
“y’always take remus’ side, ‘s not fair!” james whined.
“i have to! it takes two of us to watch over the two of you!”
“exactly,” remus laughed, crossing his arms across his chest.
“well in that case, the two of you can stay here, while jamesie and i settle a bet,” sirius said, mischievously, lighting the adrenaline in your boyfriend’s eyes.
“do i want to know?” you asked james, who sent you a blinding smile.
“siri here thinks he’s faster than me. than me! can you believe him?” james said, stretching his calf. his thighs were hugged wonderfully in his trousers and you quickly darted a glance at marlene’s beautiful -yet muddy- garden.
“have to prove him wrong, don’t i?”
“yeah, you can’t be datin’ a loser, a slow one at that!” sirius retaliated and you knew there’s no way you could talk him out of it then.
“just make sure to be careful of your nice clothes, love,” you pleaded, “you look so handsome, the last thing you need is to be covered in grass stains.”
“promise, i’ll try my best honey bee,” james said back, cupping your cheeks so your lips squished together and pressing a kiss atop them.
“c’mon let’s get this race started! or are you scared, pretty boy?” sirius egged and james ran up besides him. as the boys took off you knew it was only a matter of time before it resulted in a friendly yet frantic wrestling match, as most of their competitions did. so you captured the image of your tall, broad-shouldered boyfriend, dressed like he just came out of a catalog, running under the setting sun in your head now to look back on fondly. his childish giggles carried throughout the air and you had a pathetic smile on your face despite yourself.
“you’ll just have to hose him off before you get in the car,” remus said, content with sitting with you, watching your loved one's mess about, truly happy.
“it’s my own fault for thinking he could keep a white shirt clean.”
#james potter#james potter fluff#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter fic#james potter imagine#mauraders fandom#mauraders#mauraders fluff#james potter mauraders#mauraders fic#maurauders era#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fandom#james potter blurb#james potter drabble
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The tile floor is disgusting.
Not Starcourt disgusting, but disgusting all the same. Grime build-up colors the grout lines, the back of his head is damp from condensation that drips down the sink he’s resting against, and there’s a damp spot beneath his left calf that he sincerely hopes is just the aftermath of someone washing their hands. A single lightbulb hangs in the center of the ceiling, dim but not flickering.
Thank God, it’s not flickering.
It’s not the place to have a meltdown— he knows it’s not— but rationality is just the latest in the ever- growing list of things fighting the Upside Down took from him. After all, the dingy basement bathroom of a stranger’s house party is better than the densely populated living room of a stranger’s house party.
He wishes Robin was with him, but he can’t bring himself to tear her away from the first real party she’s enjoyed. It’s not her fault that crowds set him on edge these days, or that he can’t stand the feeling of unfamiliar bodies pressing against him anymore, or that small talk about how humid it’s been lately makes him want to rip his hair out because how can anyone possibly give a fuck about the weather when the world nearly ended six months ago? No one outside of the group he’s come with gets it and he wonders if even in that group, even with the people he’s bled with, if he’s an outlier.
No one saw him sneak down here.
He’s not expecting anyone to come looking for him.
He should’ve known better.
“Steve?” A voice whispers from outside the door. “Steve, it’s me. Open the door.”
Robin. Of course.
Steve drags a hand down his face, hovering near his nose where his fingers tremble at the bridge, and lets out a deep exhale before reaching over and unlocking the door.
Wordlessly, he rights himself against the sink again as Robin locks the door behind her and sits cross-legged next to him. Silence sits with them, a welcome guest now with Robin’s comforting presence, her head tipping to lean on his shoulder and his falling to rest on hers.
They sit like this for long moments, silence and the scent of Robin’s strawberry shampoo grounding him in the present. There’s no emergency, no threat, not when Robin is safe and clean and warm right next to him.
Finally, he breaks the stillness. “You don’t have to sit here, you can go back to the party. It’s fucking gross down here.”
“It’s way more gross upstairs without you there.”
“Oh c’mon, everyone’s up there. Eddie, Nancy, Argyle, Jonathan. Vickie.” He looks down and grins, one eyebrow quirked up.
Robin rolls her eyes playfully and gently elbows him in the side. “Shut up, oh my God. She’ll be there when we go back up or I can call her tomorrow. Besides, she’s with Nancy and Jonathan looking for you.”
“Looking for me? Fuck, I didn’t think anyone would notice—”
Robin pats his thigh and cuts him off. “It’s fine, they all know you’re okay but we just didn’t wanna leave you alone in the Brain Tornado.”
“Brain Tornado?” Steve asks.
“Argyle’s words, not mine. But it’s fitting, don’t you think?”
Steve contemplates for a few seconds, considering the years worth of fighting and hoping and living that spin him around in untethered and unpredictable circles.
“Yeah, yeah it is.” Steve sighs. “How’d you know where I was anyways?”
“I know you.” Robin says, simple and matter of fact, as if it’s not the best response he could’ve gotten. She readjusts her position to stretch out both legs in front of her and Steve reminds himself that they’re both in jeans and not Scoops uniforms.
“I just don’t know how to fucking relate to people anymore, Rob. And the crowds, if something were to happen and I couldn’t get to the bat in my trunk fast enough, or get to you or Nancy or Eddie—”
“Hey, it’s okay, we’re all okay,” Robin rubs her thumb in soothing circles into his bicep with her opposite hand. “We’re safe. We won. It’s gone.”
She says this like an oath and Steve wants to swear to it. It’s just hard.
“I know. But it’s still… I don’t know. This huge thing happened and no one else knows, so we’re in this sea of people who have no idea we all nearly died six months ago? And they look at me like I’m still Party King Steve Harrington when that guy did eat it three years ago.” His heart begins to slow and he sighs, less anxious and more confused.
“I’m not gonna pretend I know what to say to that because you’re right, but there are at least five other people here right now who get it. And we’re the lucky sons of bitches, getting to know the Real Steve Harrington anyways.”
Steve can’t help the delicate thing that blooms in his chest when he’s reminded of the odd little family he’s built around himself. Or, in some cases, that forcibly built themselves around him.
“Besides,” Robin smirks and Steve immediately knows what’s coming, telepathic communication and all. “Some people upstairs really like the Real Steve Harrington. And he might be going a little insane looking for you outside with Argyle.”
“Shut up, oh my God.” He mimics her tone from earlier and drapes an arm around her shoulders, his voice softening. “We’ll go up in a few minutes?”
He doesn’t need to say it. Steve knows Robin hears what he means.
Just a few more minutes with you, and then I can face the world.
happy (sorta belated) birthday to @stobinesque! I know I already sent this so it's not technically late but the last couple days have been a little wild so I'm just late to posting. <333
#steve harrington & robin buckley#steve harrington#robin buckley#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#st fic#steddie#myblurbs#platonic soulmatism my beloved#stobin
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Okay, so in one of the comments that you replied to in your “gold rush AU! Konig”, you stated that she’s heads over heels in love with him, but apparently hasn’t shown/told him yet. And even though he believes that she doesn’t love him, he’s still so in love with her and just wants to make her happy. (That has got to pull at her heartstrings because this odd but kind man simply just loves her.)
Would you be willing to do a next part? Showing that she was just resisting what she knew along and that was that she does love and only wants him. Because although he went about marrying her immediately instead of taking the time to get to know each other and even though he’s from an European background, who is a giant with an accent and working to hit gold to support her financially, he’s still been nothing but kind, loving, and can apparently rock her world in bed! (Basically she was resisting in giving in into admitting she loves him because she had this WHOLE mindset/vision about how it was ALL gonna go down but since it didn’t go the way she thought it would, she was resisting his love for the “fairytale” version she wanted.)
Eventually she finally confesses that she does love him but had to get to that conclusion slowly on her own terms. This of course makes him so happy and he feels so blessed to gain his wife’s love; he once again promises that he will do everything in his powers to ensure she’s happy for all the rest of the days of her life. Which he does because some time later he hits it big in gold which lets him upgrade the “shack” they’re living in to convert it into an actual home for them to spend the rest of their lives together (with future children).
And he asks her of what she wants him to buy for her since he can afford to get it for her, only for her to ask for a new and bigger (so he fits comfortably) reinforced bed; because she wants him to be able to rest properly in a comfortable bed AND she doesn’t want to hear it creak as he plows her into nirvana/heaven. This of course causes him to blue screen but once he reboots his brain, he promises that he’ll get the best bed that will not only support their nightly activities but be very comfortable for both of them.
It’s only once they get the new bed and use/“break it in”/“christen” it for the first time does he finally gets her pregnant on that first night.
Oh, your writings are just so good! 😊
Oh I love the bed scenario and König wanting to spoil her and the story about how he got her pregnant for the first time (you can’t tell me these two won’t have a small flock of annoying little kids running around eventually) so much! 😭💞
And I actually wrote a little something for this because people were putting me in jail for the roaring angst of the 1st part so here’s how these silly pookies got to their happily ever after:
Our pompous little mail order bride is, in fact, so in love with König that it’s not even funny.
It's so bad that she looks out the window and sighs as she waits for him to come home... Scoots away the minute she catches him in the horizon, of course. She has better things to do than wait by the window sill like some wanton prostitute!
She whimpers like one, however, when the door slams shut and her husband comes to grope her from behind, telling her he wants to take her on the table (there’s food there and they were supposed to eat first, what a horrible man!) Not to talk of getting wet just from the sight of him looming over her, she has no objections with getting spread on the sturdy planks for taking. She should probably be thankful that the dinner table is made of solid wood and is not some delicate piece hauled here from Europe because it could never take the brute force of König’s advances...
After they're both sated and done, he dares to dip his finger in one of the cast iron pots filled to the brim with stew. Has a taste while still inside her, only chuckles to himself when she furrows her brows from how uncivilised he is. What kind of a man barges in his home like a burglar, takes his wife on the table, then tastes the hearty stew like it’s only normal for a man to be hungry after plowing his lady until they're both shaking? Even the bed is about to break at night, these pieces of furniture have done nothing wrong to this man and yet he treats them like they're nothing but disposable bits of wood.
His lack of manners never ceases to astonish her; he even tries to give her a taste of the food too, and laughs when she pushes him away and straightens her skirts, how is she supposed to walk around with his seed running down her thighs? All the pretty things he got her from town are in need of a wash already, but she still hums a soft happy tune while looking at her reflection in the mirror, donning the pretty hat he just brought her along with coffee and flour. (She thinks he can’t hear or see her being visibly happy, but König takes mental notes every time her eyes shine a little brighter from his gifts. She's not lacking anything, that's for sure, and isn’t it nice that he remembered how she looked at that silly little hat when they walked by her favorite store…? Anything his princess wants, she shall have!)
Years and years of lonely digging in this harsh land far away from home have made her husband think that no woman could ever want him unless he buys their love, and she does enjoy the pretty little frills he brings her as offerings. But what would kill her is if he knew she had actual feelings for him… This was supposed to be an arrangement, a marriage between two adults, not a romantic passionate affair! That sort of thing only happens in books, that's the first thing she learned when she came here.
He should have courted her properly first, but now it's all ruined, there's no excitement and intensity... Except that her heart is always hammering in her chest, she feels like a trapped bird flitting inside her corset. She's always flustered when he goes under her skirts, her chest is about to collapse in on itself when she sees him flash a smile her way, carry her more silk and demurely apologize that the wrappings are dirty because of his hands, kiss her neck after copulation like it's the holiest place on earth...
And God Almighty, what would this man think of her if she confessed her love to him? He would probably laugh and think she’s a harlot who’s in desperate need of his cock, that she's indecent and impure…
Luckily, the brute is so stupid that he doesn’t see the way his little princess–as he now calls her–looks up at him when he traces her bottom lip with his thumb. She’s relatively sure he doesn’t notice the tiny gasps just before she comes, the helpless, adoring stares she shoots at him right after, because that glassy, worshipping stare of his own is only born of lust, that’s for sure.
He can’t see her figure flash in the window when he’s walking towards home, she’s made sure of that…
Or has she?
The man is dumb, but he’s not a total simpleton, even if his eternal sadness is slowly turning into a teasing, an even hungrier form of love. She fears he will simply devour her one of these days if he knew how deeply in love with him she is as well...
And she fears herself even more than she fears him. Didn’t the priest warn about exactly this kind of simple-minded, wanton lust in his last sermon? She was always taught that marriage is supposed to be about companionship and genial living together, not about sweaty, toe curling, mind numbing copulation.
They’re fornicating like animals in the little shack she has grown so fond of, shy to the changes he’s talking about every day since he struck some large gold vein. He openly fantasizes about getting them a large house, a small manor, even, and she knows it’s all just for her because this man is content with very little… So little, that he accepts any small crumb of affection she gives him like it’s an entire rain of manna from heaven.
And it’s only because she’s ashamed that she can’t show her true feelings for him. The gentlemen of the city now feel like fancy peacocks compared to this burly man who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty and his dick wet. Those men look delicate and boring and ridiculous next to the hairy giant who’s forearms she stares in the evenings like they’re her own personal cancan show.
It’s crazy, how she looks at him like he’s nothing but a piece of meat – are women even supposed to feel this way? She should say her prayers, because her foreign husband looks like a god while sharpening his ax by the fire, with slow, deliberate movements, the trembling hands finding a smooth, strong dance only when they’re wielding a pickaxe or a whetstone or a knife.
He catches her staring once, her frightful stare big and helpless in the flickering flames, and he gives her a sad, longing smile in return.
“I’m sorry, princess,” he gruffs softly. “Ich weiss… I know I should shave...”
Her head gives an involuntary shake, minimal and shy, because she doesn’t want him to shave. She adores that coarse stubble that leaves her skin red and irritated, she loves how he looks when he has so much going on in his life that he doesn’t have time to groom himself.
“No…?” He asks hesitantly, straightening a little on the chair that’s really only a piece of log. “You like it like this...?”
She nods. Shyly again, and just once, while her eyes drift on his lips.
It’s intimate, how the silence envelops them with both tension and grace. It’s all she can give right now, and he knows it, knows also that this whole exchange is basically a love confession. Her affection, her want, her dedication and surrender soar and swell all at once, and he can see it... All of it.
He rises, and abandons the ax, his softening stare never leaving hers. He walks to her like a gentleman, like he's Mr. Rochester himself, like she was Ms. Eyre – although she doesn’t want to be Jane Eyre and she doesn’t want him to be a dark, handsome gentleman. She wants him to be just as he is, the stranger from the North who works hard and loves even harder, who picks her up like she’s an angel and not a lady.
“Let’s get you to bed, hmm?”
His gaze is so soft, it’s starting to relax into some knowledge she has in her foolishness betrayed.
But it’s alright… Everything’s just as it should be.
She wraps her hands around his neck and whispers, “Yes,” and the smile that tugs at his lips finally melts into one of those I knew it smiles he sometimes wears when he brings her something nice from the town.
He doesn’t push her to reveal more information about how much she loves his stubble, but he does make her scream it out into the warm cottage air as he goes down between her legs. She doesn’t want to know what the local priest would say about this: a man making his mark on the insides of her thighs with that scraping beard, how he makes her core throb with his ever-hungry mouth. She doesn’t even care.
It’s a paradise and an inferno, where he’s sending her to, and who knew a brutish digger from some distant land could suddenly be so eloquent with his tongue? Who knew a man could do things like these to a woman...? Who knew married life could be like this?
“You liked that, didn’t you, princess,” he asks when he’s done with her, and holds her surprisingly gentle when she’s still shaking and squirming softly on the bed. Not God, not even the Devil, could cloud the full blown affection in her eyes. She’s in love – it’s not just lust, but love she feels for this man, and she feels like a fool for not recognizing she had gold in her hands all along.
“Yes,” she says, then smiles, then laughs, because it’s fairly obvious that she can’t speak those words even if she wanted to. He wrecked her so completely...
“I told you I’d make you happy, Sonnenschein.”
He smiles a little, looks down at her like she’s nothing but a baby who finally stopped her eternal crying.
“Oh I’m more than happy,” she says, this time tears clouding her vision, happy tears born from being free from years of imprisonment. He doesn’t strike her as the kind of man who cries, but there’s a faint glow in his eyes as well, a shimmer that both takes her in and pulls her under. This is something they don’t talk about in church... This is a thing they never write about in books.
She lays her hand on him, on the coarse cheek that is now slightly wet from a single tear.
“You’re crying,” she whispers, because her voice wouldn’t carry the weight of her words at this point.
“Ja…? Well... I’m happy too,” he explains, with a shortness of breath and a confusion to his voice.
He blinks the rest of it away, but the sweet moment stays, lingers on until she draws him into a kiss – another thing they never talk about in novels, a woman kissing a man – and she tastes both him and her on his lips, how well he loved her, and when he moans slightly from her reciprocating that love, she holds him closer, closer, closer… Until he shivers too.
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