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bunnysbrainrot · 6 days

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Bourbon and Mead

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 '𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝' 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚢𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚘𝚣𝚒𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader, Jackson!AU

Content: Alcohol consumption, flirting, slow-burn tension, slow dancing with Joel, teasing, POV switch. Bear with me, folks, this'll be worth it.

Summary: It's been a busy first week in Jackson, but you're finally starting to feel at home. Even still, you haven't made many new connections, but hopefully tonight's big event can help. Despite your nerves, you go anyway, and see some familiar faces.

Word Count: 4,300+

It had been just under a week since your patrol with Joel and his group, and you're settling in rather well. For such a shabby spot, you have decorated your living space impressively, and it settles something in you. After so long, you're really starting to have a place to call home.

Knock, knock, knock.

The noise shakes you out of a stupor, and you make your way to the heavy wooden door, and tug it open to reveal a friendly face, Maria.

You've had little chance to interact with new people since arriving in Jackson - when you're working as a community this directly, a hell of a lot of work goes into it. Which means, everyone's busy. Just about constantly. That being said, outside of your own room, Maria has been your only companion.

She can sense your loneliness, too, but she hasn't let on. The last thing you needed was the pressure of making a name of yourself in the first few days, so she had kept you busy with chores, patrols, hunts, you name it. To her, that plan would help you adjust to how Jackson functioned as a whole, so you could have the foundation of being a community member, to get your bearings.

Her smile is bright as she speaks, "Hey, sweetheart, just wanted to let y'know about the dance happening tonight. If you're feeling up for it, you should stop by."

The offer erupts a warmth in your chest.

"The dance?" You ask eagerly.

Maria nods, "Used to call it a square dance, but not enough folks know how to, so it's more of a get-together now, but we'll have music, drinks, the whole nine."

It doesn't take long for you to choose your answer. You cheerfully tell Maria, "That sounds wonderful. Where is it, and when does it start?"

She starts to describe the layout of the nearby buildings to the dance, waving her hands in front of her methodically, "But trust me, you won't be able to miss it. Just follow the music." Maria ends her sentence with a wink.

"What do I wear?"

There's a beat as she looks you over, and past your shoulder to your chest of drawers, which she helped stock when you first arrived.

Maria waves a hand dismissively as she replies, "Some people take the chance to dress up, some people dress down. You do whatever you're comfortable with, honey."

You flash her a grateful smile, and she issues a small goodbye before walking off.

---

A good few hours buffers you before the dance. The optional dance, but something in you will stop at nothing to go. You need to see people, have some laughs, live a little.

You take your sweet time getting ready, too. Some downtime is well deserved and rare, but it gives you the perfect window of time - debating on your outfit takes the longest. You opt for a casual hairdo, one that won't get your neck all hot and sweaty once you start dancing. The watch on your left wrist reads 6:47 PM up at you.

Whooping voices can be heard outside your window as people saunter down the street, toward the festivities, you assume. You sneak a peek through the curtains, eyeing a gaggle of townsfolk laughing alongside one another. Their eyes are bright, voices uplifted and loud. The men clap each other on the shoulder aggressively, while the women jab each other in the sides with their elbows. There wasn't much to make out, but whatever they were joking about had them roaring with laughter.

Seeing the crowd inspires you to make way out the door. You ensure all your lights are off, save for your nightstand lamp to come back to an inviting space. A deep breath later, and you were out the door, too.

There's a new feeling in the air, and you can place it precisely. Upbeat music plays far down the small Jackson streets, but its effects are widespread. All around, the other residents beam brightly as they go about the evening. Most people nearest you exchange small 'hello's' and wave politely, others still smile your way. Tightness wells in your chest as you realize just how long it had been since you'd seen so many friendly faces.

The music's volume eventually blares as you near the open area for the dance. The weather proves to be fair enough to host the event outside, so rows of string lights hang between nearby poles and sides of buildings. In the back of the venue is a group of people wielding a variety of instruments, nodding and bouncing with the quick beat of what you knew as bluegrass music.

"Hey, look who's here!" A voice calls out. You glance around until you realize the call was for your attention. You turn to the voice and recognize the woman from last week's patrol, who'd given you the rundown of who your partners were.

You greet her in return before registering the rest of the group. A few of them could be familiar around town, but for the most part, new faces.

Except for one.

Joel's eyes aren't on yours when you find him in the group. He's looking to one of the men, seemingly in a deep conversation. Perhaps he could feel your eyes on him, because his eyes flicker to yours for a split second. He pauses, lets his conversation partner speak, while he gives you a polite nod, before turning back to the man.

The fluttering in your gut was a dead giveaway, this is why you wanted to come. The prospect of seeing Joel again was exciting, but usually slim. And here he was. If only he could just move on from his conversation...

A hand lands on your arm comfortingly. The kind woman tells you, "It's so good to see you again! How have you been settling in?"

There's a twinge of an accent in her words, Southern, but more subtle. Her words are as soft as a hug.

"It's been going alright, finally getting to decorating," you start. The woman listens. Wait... did she ever introduce herself? Shit. How were you supposed to see someone this much without knowing their name?

"That was the best part when I got here. Once I had my space set up, it really felt like home," she replies.

There's a beat of silence between you, and it breaks when you ask, "I'm sorry if this is awkward, but I never got your name the first time we met." You briefly introduce yourself before she replies.

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles, "I'm Cara. I never introduced myself, but I wanted you to have at least be one friendly face here."

"I'm thankful for it, I really am. It feels better now that we have names to the faces," you offer with a nervous smile.

Cara looks at you mischievously, softly grabbing your bicep, "Let's get a drink. Whaddya say?"

That kind offer melts your anxiety away, and all that's left is you, Cara, and the joy of sharing a drink with a friend. In moments, you have a glass of homemade mead in your hand.

Someone else from the group calls Cara over, so for a moment you're left alone with your cup of fermented honey goodness. It's sweet, slightly bitter, but leaves your stomach feeling warm as it settles. The burn in your throat is numbed by the warmth in your belly. You make it back to Cara's group and decided to strike up conversation with those folks, thinking that it'd be a good place to start.

The first few conversations are long - a flurry of questions about your background, your journey out to Jackson, and how you've been adjusting to the move. You learn some basics about some of them, but there's a distraction lingering in the back of your mind.

Joel.

A few people in the group break away to leave for the dance floor, the jovial music beckoning them ever closer. You don't follow immediately, which leaves you with a few stragglers, and him.

For the first time in days, you hear his voice again, "What'd you get?"

The question snaps you to attention, looking down into your glass. You glance back up at him and motion with the cup with a swish, "Some mead, I think. Pretty good."

He nods, "Pete makes some damn good mead, 'specially if it's for a party. Pulls out the good stuff."

Part of you wonders if his lighthearted talking is to make up for the blunder on last week's patrol, to ease the embarrassment you still held from it.

"What's in your cup?" You retort.

"Usually it's bourbon, but tonight, it's beer," he replies with a gaze into his own cup. He copies your motion and swirls the cup a few times. A bit of the foamy liquid sloshes out and onto the dirt in front of your, nicer, combat boots. Some of the beer spatters onto your feet and into the dirt.

"Damn, maybe they should cut me off," Joel jokes, reaching into his back pocket and revealing a handkerchief, holding it out to you. "Sorry 'bout that."

You take the cloth, "Making a mess of the place already, and it's not even eight o'clock yet, impressive."

The joke seems to land with Joel; you can tell by the way the corners of his eyes tighten.

Joel

What you say makes him chuckle. It's rare to find someone with a sense of humor these days. That kind of fresh attitude can bring a lot of life in a world like this, especially around here, especially after the loss these people have felt.

New folks were few and far between, given how desolate Jackson had become since the world fell to shit, but there was a wind of change when you arrived last week. Joel could tell from the second he saw you on patrol, even trotting ahead of the group at one point. The light in your eyes when you awed at the mountains tugged at his heartstrings. A type of longing for that kind of simple joy. To be young, without most of his hardships, seeing new parts of the world, even though it had shrunk.

On the patrol, you had gotten too far ahead, in line with Joel in the lead, and you knew it wasn't your place, but you hadn't shied away from him. In fact, you had embraced it, and listened keenly when Joel advised you keep your distance. Normally it'd feel like taming an unruly child, but you had a certain curiosity in your eyes, you were eager to learn.

Joel knows how harsh he can be, let alone to new faces. The worry of how that attitude rubs off on people subsided decades ago - one could say that Joel has truly embraced that 'grouchy old man' stereotype. That attitude has saved his ass more times than he could count, and has kept him safe after all these years. But, there's an unavoidable weight when it comes to hardening yourself up as much as Joel has. It's a truth that he's been evading for years. You make yourself untouchable, but you forget how much you need someone else.

Even so, it's easier that way. You keep losses to a minimum as long as you're not attached. Living that way had gotten him this far.

But now you stand in front of him, with beer-splattered boots and a kind smile despite your new shoes being soiled. You take his handkerchief and bend down to clean your shoes, and hand the cloth back to Joel. His fingers brush against yours when he takes it back - yours are delicately soft against his calloused ones, and it takes him by surprise.

In that split second, Joel's eyes search your face for any change, to see if you freeze like he does, to see if your breath hitches like his did, for any sign that this isn't just some fluke.

It could be a trick of the light, but Joel swears there's a new redness in your cheeks. When you look at him next, it's with bright, innocent eyes, a type of innocence Joel would surely ruin.

"Thank you, Joel," you say softly. His name on your lips is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, it's almost sickening.

Joel clears his throat and gives you a nod, "It's the least I can do."

The sun is dipping behind the mountains, streaking the sky with glorious pink hues against the emerging stars of dusk. A fiddle lilts happily as the song picks up pace, the tune itself serving as an invitation to get yourself moving. In the distance, Cara flashes you a wide smile, and waves a beckoning hand over to her gaggle of folks. You can barely make out her words as she mouths them.

"Let's dance!"

Joel notices your distraction, looking back at Cara trying to whisk you onto the dance floor. There's a good number of people breaking into a flurry of moves, all whooping and laughing as they pass one another. Joel looks back to you, the softness that was there before is seeming to dissipate. His face is hardened again, resigned.

"Guess I'm being stolen away," you say.

"Be careful," Joel replies, "Carried Away Cara doesn't let up. You'll be dancing for hours."

You comment, "Didn't know I signed up for that kind of night."

You've reached the group by now, and Cara is already handing you another glass of mead, and a huge smile to go along with it.

----

You're onto drink number four, you think, and the sky has shifted from a pale pink to a deep indigo, littered with bright stars and a beautiful crescent moon. It seems like the music has blurred together without beginning or end, and your boozy haze doesn't reveal any tiredness, so you keep dancing. Joel was right, Cara's had you dancing for what feels like hours at this point. But damn, did she know how to party.

The song the group's playing begins to slow down, and part of the crowd disperses away. Chattering can be overheard amidst the quieting music. You place a mostly-empty glass onto a nearby picnic table and look around the venue. Folks pass you by with a pep in their step, their faces flushed red from alcohol and relentless dancing.

A breath of fresh air wafts through the venue, rustling through your hair that had tacked with sweat to the nape of your neck. You smile from the sensation, relishing in the cool air across your hot skin. Shit, what time is it?

Your watch beams 10:13 PM back up at you.

Damn, where did all that time go?

The night has given you a rush of adrenaline you haven't found in what feels like months. Something about this dance is erupting a sense of joy you were sure you'd never feel again. Laughter, dancing, good people. Such simple things really do lift the spirits.

You can feel a pointed stare at you off to the side, but do you dare look? Of course you do - it's not like the mead is letting you act composed. Being as subtle as you can muster in your state, you glance to the side, where that looming sense had come from. Far off, leaning against a tall wooden fence, is Joel.

While he had practically ignored you when you'd first seen him tonight, he can't take his eyes off of you in this moment. Your heart skips a beat when he holds the stare, his deep brown eyes never leave yours, even as other partygoers pass between you. It's as if the world had paused, but perhaps just for you, frozen under Joel's gaze, the sole subject of his attention.

He stands alone on the side. No one to interrupt you if you go over...

Before you decide, you wave and smile. A silly drunken grin you'd normally hide. Right now, with his focus only on you, is the most alive you've felt in months. The high of it creeps up from behind, whispering encouragement in the form of a dare. Go up to him.

Your legs make the journey before you register what's happening; your body suddenly has a mind of its own, no way to back down now.

The narrowing distance from Joel pushes your heart to your throat. While your legs carry you smoothly, your senses are turned upside down. The anxiety you have about Joel is nothing but a distant memory. Tonight, you'd overcome your nervousness.

"Not much of a dancer, hm?" You call to him over the music.

A small smile spreads across his lips, "With these knees, I'm lucky to do a damn foxtrot. Someone out there was having the time of their life, though."

He truly has a gift. The moment he speaks, everything else seems to disappear. God, you'd ask him question after question just to hear that voice - deep and gravelly, but the accent is thick and sweet like molasses. A slip of your imagination has you wandering into uncharted territory. Imagine a "baby" or "honey" or "sweetheart" in that voice... Your mind vacates long enough for Joel to arch an eyebrow at you, and you're immediately brought back down to earth.

"I don't know how I went dancing for that long," you exhale.

Joel shakes his head with a chuckle, "You'll get some damn good sleep, that's for sure."

It'd be better if you were sleeping with me.

The unfiltered thought jolts through you, snapping you back to attention. Maybe the mead was making you a little too confident.

Behind you both, the music group's slow beat has pulled folks into a smooth rhythm. The dance floor littered with small groups and couples as the song continued. This new intimate energy could not have been timed any worse. You took a big breath and let it out slowly.

"It's getting late, I should probably head home."

Joel pauses, looking toward the band, then down into a cup of amber-brown liquid. Maybe he resorted back to his usual bourbon.

You follow suit and watch the band play on. A tug in your chest begs you not to go, not yet.

"Think you got time for one last go?" His question snaps your head to him. There's a new spark in his eyes, a softer glint amidst the chocolate brown.

Your answer is immediate, breathless, "Of course."

Anything. Anything for him.

As long as it reveals a glimpse of the man underneath the tough shell. It's still in him.

Joel extends his hand, palm up, to take yours. You lay yours on top plainly, holding a breath at the sensation of your skin against his. It's not like before with the handkerchief. This time, it's intentional, he wants to touch you.

The way his fingers curl to hold your hand settled that debate. His touch is careful. It didn't take a genius to know how rough he could be, with those toned muscles shifting under his plaid shirt; in contrast, he held you with such delicacy, as if you'd break if he gripped too hard.

"You know how to dance at all?" Joel asks.

You bark a laugh, "With this many drinks in me? Highly doubt it."

Joel's laugh is louder this time around. You can actually make it out, and you can feel that it's genuine. "I warned you about Cara. Now I get a drunk dance partner."

"Hey, you asked me to dance. You don't get to give me shit for havin' a good time," your words slur together, proving Joel's point.

Amidst the crowd, Joel manages to find you two a nice spot with plenty of room. The surrounding couples look how you feel - entranced with their partners, focused and attentive, like the other person is the only one left in the world.

"How 'bout this? You lead me."

You freeze, "But, I-I don't know what to d-"

"Do what you want. I'll follow."

"And if I make a fool of myself?" You question.

His other hand migrates to your waist, holding you gently at your side, "The you better really sell it."

Your laugh is giddy. He lets you have room for mistakes. There's room to be human around him.

A deep exhale later, you place your hands on Joel's shoulders and begin to sway, a slow and steady pace with the beat of the song. Seems the mead has done its work of clouding your judgement - you're locked in the swaying motion.

"Is this okay?" You ask softly, finding Joel's eyes. There's a warmth in them you hadn't seen before.

He nods gently, "You lead the way, sweetheart. Don't worry about me."

Who'd have known that a single word could melt you completely. Your mind instantly hooks on it, cycles it in your mind as if to brand it into your memory.

Sweetheart.

Your smile is instant, but feels like one of those sloppy, stupid drunk grins that reveal how not-yourself you are at the words.

And so, you sway. As promised, Joel follows right along.

He shifts closer, readjusting the hold on your waist, spanning his fingers along the small of your back. A polite caress, not meandering and wandering around like most drunk men you'd encountered. Joel can keep his hands to himself. Joel has manners. Joel has self-control.

There's a lead to follow with his movements, you discover. It does feel more natural to wrap your arms around his neck like this...

In a swift moment you've melted into him, and with it, your nerves.

You also find that it's far more comfortable to rest your head on his chest. A beat later, your senses return, and you raise yourself back into standing position, realizing the crossed boundary.

"Gettin' tired already?" Joel asks bemusedly.

Maybe he didn't catch it. Thank goodness.

"You're basically rocking me to sleep here," you quip back.

Joel reminds you, "You're the one leading us."

You roll your eyes as you shake your head, bringing a laugh from him again. The sound of it lights you up from inside, flipping your stomach. You'd already learned that that sound was rare.

"Some dance partner I am," you say sarcastically. Joel's smile broadens, and the hand on your back shifts. His thumb idly sweeps across your spine.

Somehow, your arms are back around his neck, and your head is against his chest, all without protest. Joel's thumb still caresses your back as a sign. The song in the background changes to something simpler, with fewer instruments, giving highlight to a slow solo from the fiddle player.

"You're right, I think I'm gonna sleep like a log tonight," you murmur.

Joel's chuckle vibrates against your cheek. The huff of his laugh gives you a whiff of bourbon, sickly sweet and smoky, blending in with his deeper woodsy scent.

"You gotta be more careful next time," his voice slows. "We'll get some water in ya, help fight that hangover tomorrow."

You nod against him, smiling broadly, knowing that you're in good hands. Your words come out sheepishly, "I'm sorry I got so drunk. I... didn't think you'd see me like this."

A gentle squeeze on your side.

Joel's breath skirts across your neck when he mutters, "You think I'm gonna blame you for havin' a good time?"

His lips graze the shell of your ear as he speaks, and his words have a secrecy to them, an intimacy you hadn't seen from him before. You pay attention to the feel of his lips on your skin - they're soft and gentle, but know where to drag along in all the right places.

It's enough to leave your knees wobbling in your drunken stupor, high purely off of his touch, head spinning as you search for a new sensation.

"It has been pretty fun," you reply between trembling breaths.

There's a subtle brush of lips against your neck when he speaks, "I'd say I'm havin' a pretty good time."

Your knees practically buckle beneath you.

The rush of it all has you pulled back from him now, staring at him with surprised eyes. It's not that you didn't enjoy or accept that move, just that quickly, in front of so many people...

Joel's look shifts to something of embarrassment, "Maybe I've had a lil' too much."

You let out a nervous laugh, "I think I'm right there with you, I... I'm sorry."

He doesn't ask what the apology is for. He knows exactly which line was crossed. The hardened look returning to his eyes tells you that this moment of bliss is coming to an end.

"You don't got anything to be sorry for," the thick Texas accent is palpable in his reassurance. "I'm bein' a fool."

A fool. For doing this.

Hopefully he can't see the way that word breaks you. You force a bigger smile, a dismissive one that says 'we can just forget this ever happened', with a wave of a hand.

You offer, "Like you said, just having a good time."

His smile is wry. There's something unreadable in his expression.

Nonetheless, his grip of your waist loosens, releasing you as the fiddle in the background song comes to a silent end. Something akin to tension hangs in the air between you, pulled taught like a string to be severed.

"Well, I won't keep ya any longer. I... appreciate the dance. I know you're probably itchin' to get back in bed, so..." Joel says, trailing off, pressing his lips into a thin line.

You nod, collecting yourself, "Y-Yeah, probably good to get some sleep soon. You, too."

Joel smiles again, but his heart isn't in it like before.

He gives you a quick pat on the shoulder, eyes averted, "Get home safe, alright?"

Before you can wish him the same, he's lost amidst the crowd.

Hello, my sweethearts! So glad to be developing this story more, and I hope you've been enjoying so far! If you'd like, vote in the poll below for how'd you like to see this story develop (if you catch my drift)

As always, thank you so much for your support. And if you're new, it's nice to meet you! Love you all!

-Bunny

{all banners/dividers are from cafekistune on Tumblr}

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us 2 #bunny writes #smut #smut writing #fanfiction #tlou2 #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal

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rosewaterandivy · 23 days

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stop making plans / start making sense

Summary: eddie finds himself smack dab in the middle of an ap english iv class, all because some do-gooders at Hawkins High happen to “believe in him” or whatever. the catch? it just so happens to be your ap english class.

A continuation of this blurb and the result of an ongoing eddie munson hc convo with @powderblueblood 💚

Warnings: eddie’s senior year 2.0, no Upside Down, scary smart debate team captain reader, NHS president and tutor nancy wheeler, ap music theory nerd and general nuisance robin buckley, pretentiousness alert - you have been warned!

W.C.: 1771

It’s his second time around as a senior, not even the first week of school under his belt when Mrs. Meloy calls him into her office. The counseling center, which he is unfortunately far too familiar with, is busy as it usually is at the beginning of the year— schedule changes, registration, students complaining about not getting late arrival or early dismissal. Before he can settle in one of the worn chairs by the door, a woman pops her outside of an office door. She glances around, blue eyes searching for someone or something, before landing on Eddie.

“Think the wall can hold itself up just fine Edward,” She calls as she opens the door to her office and waves him in.

He grouses at the use of his full name and rolls his eyes, languidly strolling into the smaller room that smells overwhelmingly of cinnamon.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

She’s turned around, fingers flicking through thick manilla files in the cabinet in front of her. A cup of coffee sits on her cluttered desk, cold, from the looks of it. Mrs. Meloy mutters under her breath before turning from the filing cabinet in annoyance.

“It’s only the first week of school,” Eddie points out, “I haven’t done anything.”

The yet between them goes unspoken.

The older woman merely raises a knowing brow and takes her seat opposite him. She sorts through a few loose papers on her desk before letting out a surprised huff, “Gotcha!” Flipping through the file, his file, Eddie supposes, her eyes scan over what is undoubtedly his lack of academic achievement.

Satisfied with her perusal, she sets the papers down on her desk and addresses him.

“Round two.” Mrs. Meloy begins, resignedly. “Hopefully the NHS tutoring placement will be to your benefit Mr. Munson. Miss Wheeler is an exemplary student and I have high hopes for you under her tutelage.”

She then runs through his current schedule, emphasizing the classes he needs to perform well in (mostly all of them, save for English and a few others).

“Which brings me to the reason for our meeting today,” she says with a smile. “It has not escaped my notice, nor that of Mrs. Seguin, that you are quite adept in English class. At least,” she qualifies with a pull of her lips, “When properly motivated.”

And yeah, okay, he was decidedly not trying all that hard in Mrs. S.’s senior English class last year and he breezed through with a respectable A minus.

Wayne even got a little choked up when he read that particular report card.

“I guess so,” he says with a cross of his arms.

“Rather than having you repeat the same content and curriculum this year, Mrs. Seguin and I have petitioned the principal for permission to move you into a more challenging and appropriate English class.”

Well, that perks him right up.

“Principal Higgins has agreed to the change, with a few stipulations.”

Of fucking course.

The gist of it is, Eddie’s admittance to the AP English IV class will be probationary for the first quarter, given his past exploits and record. If he can keep his grades at a respectable B across the board, Eddie will be permanently placed in Mrs. Seguin’s advanced class. If he can’t, it’s back to regular Senior English with that crone, Mrs. Cotter.

Easy peasy.

And he’s almost out the door when Meloy stops him with a furitive, “Eddie,” and pauses to look him in the eye. “We believe in you and we went to the mat with Higgins on this.” She says emphatically, standing up to escort him through the office, “You can do this, Eddie, we know you can.”

She smiles and sends him off with his newly revised schedule, the summer reading assignment, and information for Wayne to peruse about Advanced Placement courses.

The rest of that day unfolded as expected despite his new schedule. Slight differences were made, such as: Eddie sitting in the middle of the class instead of the back, hopefully next to Buckley or Wheeler if he could swing it.

With Nancy’s help, he was able to narrow the summer reading options down to books that would hold his interest. The librarian, Ms. Berkowitz, was more than happy to oblige him with checking out a copy of Notes from the Underground by some Russian dude whose name Eddie couldn’t possibly pronounce.

The bell for the final class of the day rang just as he slipped through Mrs. Seguin’s door.

“Timely as ever,” she teased and kicked the door stop into the classroom.

Her room was the same as last year, but the mood within was markedly different— more relaxed and at ease. Students sat where they pleased and chatted amongst themselves while Mrs. S. checked off the roll and fielded a few questions from the group.

Eddie settled in the only open seat right in between Nancy and yourself. He tried not to be offended that you didn’t even glance up from your furious scribbling on the page, seemingly writing a mile a minute, as if you couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

Ink smeared on the college ruled paper underneath your hand.

Eddie found it endearing.

“Okay, okay, let’s get this show on the road.” Mrs. S. set her clipboard on the desk and leaned against it with a casual grace.

She was one of the newer teachers to Hawkins High, from some big name school out west with not one, but two degrees framed on the wall behind her desk. She was young and quick to laugh; the older teachers were a bit weary of her and those “new agey” teaching philosophies, but the results produced were proof enough for her to granted the AP English III and IV courses for this year. According to Nancy, she’d only had AP juniors and regular seniors last year.

Eddie, being one of those regular students, would know.

“Alright, hopefully we’ve brought in our summer reading novels today. The goal is to break you all into thematic groups based on your selected text. From there, you will collaborate with your peers to create a presentation on your findings.”

With this, she steps away from her desk and begins writing on the chalkboard.

“Consider such things as character archetype, thematic resonance, literary merit, of course. But more importantly,” she says, turning to the class with a smile, “How did the story affect you? What new perspective or insights were gained? What concepts were reinforced? Did you despise the protagonist, or did you identify too closely with them?”

The class has fallen to a hush, you’ve stopped writing and are rapt with attention. Eddie, used to overworked teachers and coaches who could care less, is shocked.

“I remind you, as always, that there are no right or wrong answers in here. As long as you can support your interpretation—” She begins.

“With evidence from the text,” The class choruses in reply.

“Good, exactly.”

At that, students break away into smaller groups and begin talking in hushed tones about the project.

“Whatcha got there?”

This, from Robin, who unceremoniously plucks Eddie’s book from his grasp. She flips through it, eyes lighting in interest, just as Mrs. Seguin makes her way over.

“Eddie, always good to see you.”

“Right back at ya, Mrs. S.”

She smirks, eyeing Robin scanning through Dostoevsky. “Had a feeling you’d gravitate toward the nihilists. Got a chance to start reading yet?”

He swipes the book back from Robin and ignores her petulant pout.

“Uh, kinda. Started it during lunch today.”

She nods knowingly, “Well, I’m sure you’ll be caught up in no time.” Surveying the classroom she nods to herself, “And now that I think of it,” She turns back to Eddie, “Looks like you’re in the right group over here.”

He almost says there is no group over here, but then he notices Nancy and Robin chatting with you. Feeling his stare, you turn back from where you’ve set up shop on Robin’s desk and jerk your head, an invitation by any other name.

“C’mon Munson, we don’t have all day.” You say this softly, chidingly, with no real heat behind it. Your eyes narrow as a group gets particularly loud across the way, “Because I’m certainly not about to let Phillips show us up.”

“Oh, bite me!” Phillips crows from his desk.

“You wish, you cretin!”

Eddie does his best to hide the curl of his lips and stifle a laugh while Phillips sulks at his desk.

Robin thumbs through a worn copy of Nausea while Nancy talks Eddie through the plan thus far. She’s read The Death of Ivan Ilyich and come to the conclusion that the novels in the group are both deeply depressing and deal with themes of existentialism, and in some cases, nihilism.

“I dunno. Philosophy is all well and good, but,” you pipe up, “Mine had elements of magical realism and a satirical critique of Soviet Russia.”

Eddie attempts to process what you and Wheeler have just said. Sensing a lull in the conversation, you slyly pass your novel over to Eddie and start to take notes over whatever it is Nancy is rambling on about.

The Master and Margartia.

Huh, weird title.

He reads the blurb on the back cover and kind of regrets not choosing this one to read. Maybe you’ll let him borrow it after the project is over. Setting it back on your desk, Eddie peruses the syllabus Mrs. S. must’ve slipped him.

“So, will that work for you Eddie?”

Lost in a daze of genres and titles, he looks up. “Sorry, what was that?”

Nancy sighs, “We’re going to meet at my house on Thursday for a study group. I know you and Mike have that thing on Fridays, so.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks Wheeler; that’ll work.”

With a smile, she goes back to chatting with Robin.

“Psst.”

A neatly folded paper lands on his desk. Eddie glances at you, curious, taking in your arched brow and smirk.

Scary smart, he reminds himself as he unfurls the page.

I know Nance is your NHS tutor, but if you feel like you need to catch-up for this class, give me a call.

Your deft hand and neatly printed letters dance across the page, an errant smear of ink where the heel of your hand drug across the paper. The digits of your phone number underneath your missive make his heart race.

Annotating your copy of Dune without permission was one thing. And at that you didn’t even bat an eye, but this…

Well, this had potential.

He tries not to let the possibility of what if turn to ash in his mouth.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic

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maniacwatchestheworld · 3 months

Text

Here. Have a DPxDC prompt or something. (#1)

Danny, Tucker, and Sam were walking down the streets of Gotham, chatting as they cut their way through the decrepit alleyways and backstreets to get to their favorite comic shop in the city. Tucker and Danny were deep in a debate over the latest storyline in the Road Rage series and so didn't notice the man walking towards them in the dark alley until Sam nudged them both.

"Guys!" She said it in a pointed whisper to catch their attention, but hopefully not that of the stranger's.

Sure enough, heading towards them was a muscular tower of a man. He was wearing what was clearly an expensive suit, tailor fitted for him, and a golden mask over the left side of his face.

"No way...! I-Is that Two-Face!??" Tucker was shivering, suddenly struck by fear now that he was in the presence of one of Gotham's most famous criminal masterminds. "What does he want from us!?"

"Didn't they say that he had reformed...?" Sam asked, less afraid and more curious.

"Maybe if we keep walking, he won't notice us..." Danny mumbled as he continued to shuffle forwards.

A collective breath escaped the trio as they passed the man, but just as they thought they were in the clear, there was a clatter.

Slowly, the three turned around to see the man holding something in front of him.

"Excuse me, young man, but I think you-" but before he could finish, Tucker was yelling.

"PLEASE DON'T HURT US, MR. TWO-FACE, SIR! WE'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT."

"...What are you-"

"Tucker, I don't think-" but before Sam could talk some sense into their friend, Danny interrupted.

"Don't worry guys, I'll take care of this!" And with that, Danny went intangible and entered the body of Two-Face to overshadow him.

Danny could feel the man inhabiting the body go unconscious as he took control. "See, guys! It's no big... Deal... I'll just..." Suddenly, Danny got the very real feeling that he was not alone inside of this body. There was something else in here. Other... People... And they were fully aware that Danny was in here with them. Inside of this man's mind, Danny knew that all eyes were on him. They did not want him here. And whatever was holding them back before was no longer there, now asleep at Danny's feet.

"What are you doing in here, child?" A faceless voice asked into Danny's neck, forcing a chill to run down his spine.

A flash and suddenly Danny was confronted by a mass of anger and scars. "Who are you? You're not one of us! Get out. Get out! GET OUT!!!" He was screaming.

Danny was screaming. The body of the man he had just possessed was screaming for him to get out.

Summary/TLDR: Danny, Sam, and Tucker pass Harvey Dent on the street. Harvey is minding his own business when he notices one of the kids drop something/something falls out of one of their bags. Harvey tries giving it back to them, but Tucker starts freaking out. Thinking that it would solve everything, Danny overshadows/possesses Harvey Dent. However, while he rendered Harvey unconscious, the other members of Harvey's system are still very much awake and do NOT want Danny in here!

Note: Plural system stuff going on here! Danny basically made Harvey (who is mostly harmless and was fronting at the time) disassociate into unconsciousness. When Danny leaves the body, Harvey will probably wake back up, but there is no guarantee that he will be able to get back to his senses quick enough to stop Two-Face from taking the reins to attack whatever/whoever made Harvey black out.

(Feel free to use. Credit is appreciated but not fully necessary. Have fun!)

#dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dpxdc prompts #harvey dent #danny phantom #tucker foley #sam manson #two-face #two face #and the Judge made a short cameo here lol #but yeah. why not try this prompt thing out and see how it goes. :p

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callsign-cacti · 8 months

Text

(im)Patiently Waiting

Summary: You and Bob have been dancing around one another for years. Now, with Jake and Bob eyeing each other, you have a plan. Hopefully, it ends with both of them in your bed... or any bed.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Explicit, Threesome (m/m/f) Vaginal penetration, oral (f recieving), hints of anal fingering, brief cum eating, waiting, lingerie, brief mention of subspace, sub jake, dom reader

Word Count: 5,300

Written for @sushiwriterhere's TGM threesomeissance challenge! I was working on this before the challenge, and have a pretty decent backstory attached to this that will hopefully be out soon!

Masterlist

He was still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm when you pulled out of his arms, turning to face him.

“I know your not gonna like this…”

“Then don’t say it…” Jake interrupted, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips to distract you.

“But maybe, we should put a pause on sleeping together, just until we can talk to Bobby!” You rushed the last part of your sentence out, desperate for him to understand that this wasn’t you rejecting him, but an effort to try and make whatever the hell was happening between the three of you work.

At this, Jake dropped his head to your shoulder, whining loudly. To a certain degree, he understood where you were coming from, but… he also really liked fucking you.

And that led him to where he was now. The first day it wasn’t that bad. He was a man; he could go a couple days without putting his dick in something. And you had woken him up with a blowjob before breaking the news, so that had helped. After your announcement, the two of you had watched a movie, basking in the presence of one another, and had fallen asleep still wrapped up in one another.

Day two, Jake had woken up to you grinding back on him in his sleep. It had taken everything in his power to still your hips, gently nudging you awake. He had to go back to base that night, as it was a Sunday, and report in the morning. When he got home that night, he was sorely tempted to open his file of pictures of the two of you in bed, but decided against it

Monday morning, Jake had been to nervous about seeing Bob to focus on anything, but the two of them had little to no interaction that day, as they were running drills with their wingmen that day, and Jake had opted to stay in that night instead of going out with the squad.

Today, you were supposed to be coming up, only staying at your place the last couple days because you had some meetings that you had to take care of.

But, even though it had been you that had put the no sleeping together rule in place, it hadn’t stopped you from texting him every hour on the dot since six am reminding him that you were coming up today, and that you had missed him.

And his cock.

Now, it was 4:59, and he was staring at his phone, wondering what you were going to do next, and debating on quitting his job so that he could be with you 24/7.

His phone dinged, and if he hadn’t been so primed to open the text, he would have heard the other phone in the room chirp. But he had a single-minded focus on the notification that was on his screen, a picture this time.

Biting his lip, he barely held back a groan as the picture of you, dressed in a dark green lingerie set. The bra was sheer, with lace flowers decorating the cups of the bra, barely hiding your nipples. A belt sat high on your waist, thin strips of fabric connecting it to the lace of your panties, little bows on the ends of it. Lace garters with embroidered flowers sat snug on your thighs, holding up the lace stocking you had on. Jakes hand was in the process of sliding from your breast down to cup your pussy, his fingers barely having made it inside the underwear.

And damn, if he wasn’t hard before, he certainly was now, remembering exactly what had happened a few minutes after you took this picture.

Glancing towards the showers, he wondered if he should take care of it now. After all, you had technically never said that he wasn’t allowed to touch himself, and it had been four goddmaned days. He wasn’t a saint.

But as he turned his attention back to his locker, he realized he was the only one left in the room.

Besides Bob.

Bob, who was staring intently down at his phone.

Bob who was staring at his phone pitching a tent in his boxers.

“Whatcha lookin at over there Bobby boy?” Jake teased, breaking the silence in the room as he leaned against Roosters locker. Bob jumped at his words, head whipping towards where Jake stood, and dropping his phone in the process.

He was quick to lean down to pick it up. But Jake was even faster, his suspicions of what Bob had been looking at confirmed. It was the same picture that you had sent him, you all pretty in your lingerie and him behind you. But there was another one below it that Jake hadn’t received.

Your hands were fisted in his hair, his mouth pressed against the dark fabric of your underwear. If he looked close enough, he could see the beginnings of the damp patch from the mixture of his spit and your arousal.

Bob was quick to snatch his phone back, his face a bright red as he tossed it in his locker before slamming the door shut, taking a deep breath before he turned back to face Jake.

“Like what you saw?” He asked, his voice already husky, and his cock straining against his towel.

Bob just stared at Jake, seemingly looking to find something on Jakes face. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, because Bob looked him up and down, eyes pausing on the bulge beneath his towel before nodding.

“Yeah, I really fucking liked it. Seems like you did to!” Taking a step away from his locker, he brought his eyes back to Jake.

Jake hummed, refusing to move as Bob continued to advance on him. The logical voice in his head told him that whatever was about to happen should not have been happening in a locker room at work, where anyone could walk in, where anyone could see and report him and Bob.

The last thing he wanted right now was to be court martialed. And then, Bob stopped inches away from Jake and smirked, and all logical thoughts flew out of Jakes head.

“Tell me, you like being on your knees for her? Did she taste as good as I remember? She still let out that breathy little whimper when you first push into her?”

Jesus.

Jake fought a shutter, refusing to back down to Bob quite so fast.

“She tastes amazing Floyd, that much hasn’t changed. But there was no whimpering, she fucking screamed for me!”

They were so close they were almost touching, the pretty blue of Bobs eyes hidden beneath the black of his iris.

“And as for being on my knees, it’s one of my favorite places to be. To bad you won’t let me show you!” And even though it was the last thing Jake wanted to do right then, he took a step back, pulling in a breath as he watched Bob shutter. But he had to put the ball in Bobs court, seeing as the last time he had tried to make a physical move, Bob had ended up shoving him away and ignoring him for a week straight.

He had gotten half a step back to his locker before Bob moved, planting his hands on Jakes chest and shoving him back up against the lockers. One hand moved to the cold steel besides Jakes head, and the other traced down his chest, fingers dipping into the lines of his abs.

“Who says I won’t let you show me?” Jake just swallowed, waiting for Bob to continue.

Bob dipped his head, bringing his lips to Jakes ear. “What do you think, think you could be as good for me as you are for her?”

Teeth biting into the skin of his lower lip, Jake nodded. When Bob pulled his head back, his eyes immediately narrowed, bringing the hand back up Jakes chin to tug the skin out from under his teeth.

“What was that?”

Jake nodded again, and Bob fisted the other hand in Jakes hair, tugging at the soft strands and finally pulling a moan out of Jake.

“Use your words!” He hissed, emphasizing with another tug on Jakes hair. And Jake couldn’t help the jerk of his hips, or the sound that escaped his lips as he finally felt some pressure on his aching cock.

Bob smiled, leisurely letting his gaze travel down Jakes body, before settling on the place where Jakes hips continued to grind into Bobs thigh.

“Wound a little tight huh?” Jake nodded, continuing to hump Bobs thigh, throwing his head back a Bob flexed for him, moving his thigh so more pressure was applied. He jumped as he felt lips on his throat, then his collarbone, then on then sensitive spot right where his neck met his shoulder.

Somewhere, distantly, Jake heard a phone ding, and then a second later, another ding in a different ring tone, which led his mind back to the pictures. Grinding down harder on Bob, Bob nipped at him, but the fingers on Jakes hips tightened.

Then, Bobs thigh was gone, but there was a hand playing with the knot on his towel, loosening it before it completely fell away.

And then pressure. Glorious, amazing, jaw dropping pressure as Bob fisted his cock.

We should put a pause on sleeping together, just until we can talk to Bobby

And as much as he wanted to stay right where he was, Jake paused, bringing his hands to Bobs shoulders and pushing slightly.

“Bob, we… Bob!” He hissed, drawing Bobs attention away from his neck, his hand stopping his movements.

Jake sucked in a breath, then another trying to get his thoughts straight.

“You can’t make me cum…!” At this, Bob took a step back, putting space between their bodies and allowing Jake space to formulate a thought.

“What?” Bob asked, confusion, shame and something else that Jake was too disoriented to place at the moment.

“No, it’s just…” Scrubbing his face with his hands, he tried to explain.

“The other day, she told me that, well, I mean I guess she didn’t really tell me I couldn’t, but I haven’t because, well, I don’t really know…”

“Jake, you haven’t what. What did she tell you not to do?”

Jake finally looked back at Bob, realizing how terribly he was explaining this.

“She told me that she thought it was best if the two of us didn’t fuck until you joined us. I guess she never technically said I couldn’t cum. Or that you couldn’t make me cum. But, I just… It feels wrong to do this without her. At least, right now it does!”

And throughout his explanation, he watched Bobs face soften, a look of fondness he wasn’t used to seeing directed at him beginning to shine through.

“Well then, she’s at your house right?” He asked, moving back towards his own locker. Jake nodded, and Bob began gathering his things.

“Then what are you waiting for, lets go!”

You had tried to time your trip so that you would be Jake home but had gotten stuck in traffic after there was construction on the highway, so you breathed a sigh of relief as you pulled into the driveway to see it empty.

Now it was time to start on step two of your plan.

Quickly, you let yourself into the house, beelining straight to Jakes room and stripping, rushing slightly, worried that someone would come home and ruin everything.

It was only once you tugged your shirt back on did you let out a sigh of relief, walking back into the living room to wait for Jake.

You were scrolling through your phone, looking for something that appealed to you for dinner later, when you heard a car pulling into the driveway, then the key fitting into the lock on the door.

“Hey Jakey, you want Italian or Chinese food tonight?”

“How about burgers?”

Your head shot up, brows furrowing at the sound of Bobs voice. You took in the two of them standing there in slight shock, and bit your lip to hide the grin that threatened to break out over your face.

Yesterday when you had talked to Jake, he had said that he hadn’t seen Bob at all, and that he wasn’t really supposed to have any time to talk to him today either.

You had left the ball in Bobs court for to long, and that had gotten you nowhere. You were in charge now, and you didn’t intend on letting either of them slip through your fingers.

Hence, the texts and photos. Both of the boys had been getting them all day, but there was only so much you could do from one side of the phone. You had just had to hope that a higher power would put them in the right place at the right time.

Seemed like your plan was working.

“Thanks for the pictures, by the way!” Bob said, moving across the kitchen to grab a water from the fridge, like he had been over a hundred times. Jake on the other hand, stood unmoving save for his eyes, which darted back and forth between you and Bob.

His face was flushed, and his normally perfect hair was messy and undone. And he was hard.

Then you looked back at Bob, who was watching you put the dots together with a smug look on his face.

“What did you do to him Bob?” You asked, opening your arms from Jake, which he immediately crossed the room to sink into.

“Nothing that he didn’t want me to. Besides, in a way, he started it!” Bob protested, pushing off of the counter and starting towards the two of you.

“What does he mean you started it Jakey?” You asked, bringing your fingers up to card through his hair.

“I asked if you had sent him the picture too!” He said, arching his head into your fingers. Bob nodded, confirming what Jake said, and you gestured for him to go on.

“And then, I asked him if you tasted as good as I remember, and if he liked being on his knees for you!” Jakes hips jolted as Bob spoke, and you smiled. Your needy boy. Fingers tightening in his hair, you drew his head out of your neck so that he was looking you in the eye.

“Did Bobby touch you Jakey”

Jakes eyes darted between you and Bobby, not completely sure of which one was in charge here. Then, your hands were on his chin, drawing his attention back to you.

“Yeah!” His answer was soft and breath, his eyes darting up to where Bob had come to stand behind you on the couch, smirking.

“Did it feel good Jakey?”

“Yeah!” You smiled at his one word answers, his eyes already a little cloudy. You knew first hand how intoxicating Bob could be. And Jake, bless his heart, got so needy when he was a little attention starved.

“But I didn’t cum!” Jake added in, his words hurried and his eyes wide as he begged for you to understand. Your brows furrowed as you looked up towards Bob for an explanation.

“He said that you had told him to wait until we were all together!” Bob offered, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, thumb caressing the skin just shy of the spot that would have you melting.

Looking back down at Jake, you beamed at him, watching him relax under the smile.

“Mm, bet that was hard, wasn’t it Jakey? Bobs hands feels good, don’t they!” Jake whined as your own hands slid down his back, nails leaving light pink marks on his skin.

“Oh I barely even used them, he was getting off on my thigh!” Bob teased, thumb tracing over a sensitive spot that made you shiver. His hands continued to move, pushing the collar of Jakes big shirt down, until he found the strap of your bra, plucking it.

You turned your gaze back to him, one eyebrow arched behind those glasses as the two of you had a silent conversation. It was Jakes little groan that pulled the two of you out of the trance, and when you looked back down at him, Jake was staring at the red bra strap, eyes narrowed, probably trying to figure out if he had seen this piece before.

He hadn’t.

You had gone shopping yesterday, buying some new stuff several sets in preparation.

“And you were so good, waiting like I told you to! I think he deserves a reward for being such a good boy? Don’t you Bobby?”

You can heard Bob grunt in agreement behind you, but your already shifting Jake so that you can slide out from under him so that you were straddlign his waist.

“I’ll even let you pick. Do you want your cock in my mouth, or your tongue in my pussy?”

While you were talking, one of Bobs hands had slid into Jakes hair, the other resting on the back of the couch. Jake let out a whimper, and you could see the veins in Bobs forearm bulging, assuming that Bob was tugging on Jakes hair.

So he had already figured out that Jake liked his hair pulled. Interesting.

“Do I get a say in this?” Bobs voice was gruff, and when you looked up at him, the pretty blue of his eyes was completely hidden by the black of his iris. Looking back down at Jake who was practically panting underneath you, you debated.

“I don’t know, what do you think Jake?” His eyes widened before snapping shut as you ground against him, his hands shifting to move to your hips to help guide you. And then his head was pulled back, eyes flying open to stare up at Bob.

“She asked you a question Jake!”

Jake was silent, but refused to break eye contact, making you smirk.

“Well, Jake here has been such a good boy for us these past few days, not even touching himself even though I never told him that he couldn’t. Just that I couldn’t. And I think that deserves a bit of a reward, don’t you Bob? Even if he’s being a bit of a brat right now!”

Jakes hands tightened on your waist, but his eyes never left Bobs, defiant until the last moment till he slipped into subspace.

“Well…” Bob started, and you could already see that he wasn’t going to agree with you. It was funny that he thought that wasn’t a rhetorical question. So, you turned your attention to him.

“And you, making me wait, making us wait all this time. I think it’s only fair that we make you wait this time!” Bob broke eye contact with Jake at this, all of his attention homing in on you. Swallowing, you took a deep breath.

You would probably pay for this later, but for right now, it was so worth it.

“I think that’s a great idea, Bob, why don’t you go sit,” Motioning towards the chair a few feet away from the two of you. “And I’ll even be nice and let you touch yourself!” You giggled, moving your hands under Jakes shirt to feel the warm skin below. In seconds you had it off, throwing it somewhere in Bobs direction as you began exploring Jakes chest.

At Bobs indignant sound, you turned your attention back to him, holding the shirt and now hovering in front of the two of you.

“So you’re in charge now huh?”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to back down. “Well, I’ve let you be in charge for years, and look where that got us. So, if you want to play right now, you’ll sit your ass down in that chair and listen like a good boy!”

You were only slightly shocked when Bob conceded, flopping down onto the chair and glaring at the two of you. Turning back to Jake, you found him wide eyed.

“That… that was really fucking hot!” He whispered in an attempt to hide his words from Bob. Smiling, you kissed him, short, sweet little pecks that turned hot quickly, your tongue delving into Jakes mouth and exploring. Your hands traveled up his stomach, running over his pecks and scratching before continuing their journey up to his hair. With one last lick into his mouth, you pulled back, Jake chasing your mouth, but your hands were there to pull him back.

“I think I’ve decided!” You said to the room, and then leaned down so you were speaking only to Jake, lips brushing the outer shell of his ear. “You wanna show Bobby how good your are on your knee’s? And then I’ll suck you off! Sound good?” Pulling back, you are pleased to see shuttered eye lids and flushed cheeks as Jake nods along with you.

Planting one last kiss on his lips, you push yourself off his lap, turning to Bob as you shuck your shirt off.

“Ready for a show?” You smirked, pushing off of Jake and gently guiding him to the floor. His eyes wide as he takes in the new bra your wearing, the sheer fabric stretched across your breasts doing little to hide your peaked nipples.

His eyes go even wider as you take your shorts off, revealing the garter set and crotchless pantie set in his favorite color. Immediately he ducks his head, desperate to taste you, but you tut, fisting his hair and pulling him back.

The whine that comes out of him has you clenching, just as desperate for him as he is for you. But this isn’t just about the two of you.

“Aren’t you forgetting something sweet boy?” Hazy eyes are slow to drag up your body to meet your gaze, but they do.

“Please… please can I taste you?”

Across the room, Bob groans, but you don’t break eye contact with Jake. “Yeah sweet boy, you can taste me!”

And with that, he’s diving right into your pussy, licking from your entrance to clit. The first time is always sloppy with him, him so eager to get you off, the finesse he always brag about goes right out the window. But damn if the mans tongue doesn’t make you cum quicker then anyone else has.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bob shifting in the chair, tugging his shorts down so that he can start stroking himself. You can feel his eyes on you, bouncing back and forth between your face and where Jake has settled in between your thighs, but you refuse to give him the attention he so desperately wants.

Soon, you feel the familiar tightening of your stomach, Jake having homed in on your clit after sliding two of his fingers inside of you, hooking them to hit your g-spot. Tightening your grip on his hair, he moans, the vibration pushing you over the edge. Like the well-trained man that he is, he continues to lick at you until your tugging his hair again, guiding him away from your sensitive pussy.

He’s a mess, your slick all over his face, eyes lidded and glazed, and a satisfied grin plastered on. Finally, you turn your attention to Bob, clearing your throat to get his attention. With one hand, you motion to Jake. “Clean him up!”

Bob hesitates for a split second before he’s rushing across the room, throwing himself down next to you and pulling Jake into his lap, tongue diving into Jakes mouth to taste you. You clench around nothing when Bob begins to clean you off of Jakes face, tongue lapping at his cheeks, and then his chin, and Jake grinds down onto Bobs lap.

Once Bob has cleaned him off, and is now just sucking kisses onto Jakes neck, you clear your throat, bringing their attention back to you.

“Well, I was going to suck you off Jakey!” Jake jolts at this, a whimper coming from deep in his throat as you pause at that, panicking at the thought of his reward being taken away.

You chuckle. “Relax baby, I was just going to say you look mighty content on Bobs lap. You wanna stay there, grind on his thighs like you were earlier, get off that way?”

And he looks so torn, glancing between you and Bob that you can’t help but grin, leaning in to draw him into a kiss. You can still faintly taste yourself, and you find yourself deepening the kiss until Bob moves his thigh, jolting Jake and making him break the kiss.

You glare at Bob, who doesn’t look sorry at all, before turning back to Jake.

“Or… do you think you can do both?” Jake nods furiously. “Please!” He whines.

“He can… you can?” Bob asks, glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“Oh yes, our Jakey here has a great recovery time. Makes playtime fun!” Bob nods, his hands tightening on Jakes hips, moving him back and forth before deciding that he wants more. He looks at you, “Earlier, I had my hands on him! May I?”

“Don’t ask me,” You shrug. “Ask Jake?”

“Please!” Jake says, lifting his head from where it had come to rest on Bobs shoulder. He makes eye contact with you as he begs for it, before throwing his head back as Bob wraps his hand around him.

You don’t even have to look down to know that Jakes leaking enough to lube himself, but either way, you reach into the drawer beside the couch, fishing out a bottle of lube and opening it, squirting some into Bobs hand.

“Play with his balls, he likes that!” Bob says nothing, but shifts one his hands, acquiescing to your command, and Jakes moan rips through the room, which is quiet except for the obscene squelching noise of Bobs hand on Jake, and Jakes moans.

And you can’t help but slide two fingers through your own wetness, before offering them to Bob, who open his mouth and eagerly sucks at them.

This is what pushes Jake over the edge, his release shooting up onto his stomach and Bobs. You remove your fingers, tracing Jakes abs, before bringing them up to Bobs mouth again.

“Evil!” Jake whimpers, “Your evil!” You giggle, leaning down to place a firm kiss on Jakes lips, nipping at his bottom one before pulling away to kiss Bob.

The second your lips meet his, he’s fisting his hands in your hair and licking into your mouth, years of pent up longing expressing itself in the way the two of you were basically devouring each other.

Eventually, you had to pull back, your lungs protesting at the lack of adequate air, Bob chasing your lips, only to be pushed back by your hand that had crept up to grip his throat. Grinning, you take him in, puffy lips and flushed cheeks and disheveled hair from Jakes fingers, and you can’t resist another peck, which quickly turns into two, which then turns into another deep kiss.

Now the hand on his throat tightens just a smidge, a warning that you are still in charge here, and Bob pulls back, a groan escaping him as you reach down with your other hand to palm him.

As much as you would love to fuck him right here, you promised Jake a reward, and there is definitely a conversation that needs to be had before you can feel Bob slide home. When you glance at Jake, before bringing your gaze back to Bob, his eyes are filled with understanding, and something that looks suspiciously like love, and you feel tears springing to life in your eyes.

Turning your attention back to Jake, you find his gaze locked on where your hand is still palming Bob through his underwear, and you are snapped back into the present.

“How ya feelin Jakey?” You ask, watching as he is slow to look back up at you. When he does, he’s got a dopey smile on his face that makes you giggle.

“Good! Real good!” He slides out.

“Yeah, you think you can go again?” He nods frantically as you begin maneuvering him, pushing and pulling at his shoulders so that his back is pressed up against Bob.

Between Bobs hand job earlier, and your previous orgasm, your slick enough that you probably don’t need the lube, but Jake is big, and the last thing you want right now is to be sore. Especially when you know first hand how insatiable both your boys are once they get started. So you lube your hand up, bringing it down to Jakes cock, which is already half hard.

Once he’s properly slicked up, you begin dragging the tip up and down your slit, before Bob is sliding a hand down from where he had been playing with Jakes nipples. Your gaze snaps up from where your had been focused on Jake to Bob, seeing the question in his eyes. You nod, and Bob wraps a hand around Jake, guiding him to your hole, where you slowly sink down onto Jake.

Jake moans, and so do you. Jake hadn’t been the only one holding out for this, and he felt damn good stretching you out.

“She feel good?” Bob asks, whispering in Jakes ear before he nips at the tip of it. Jake nods again, his mouth half open as you continue to slide down on him.

“She’s so tight, isn’t she!” You watch as Bob shifts slightly, his other hand disappearing behind Jakes back. Jake tenses at the same time Bob speaks again.

“Bet you are to!” And even though you can’t see what’s happening, you can guess what Bobs doing based on the way that Jake thrusts up into you, which causes you to clench around him.

Bob chuckles at the way Jake is wiggling unable to decide which way he wants to go, backwards or forwards. “Be nice Bob!” You warn, sliding your hands up Jakes chest for better balance.

“I’m always nice!” You scoff at him, but return your focus to Jake, shifting your weight which has him hitting that spot just right. Now it’s your turn to moan, balance faltering just a little bit as the pleasure increases. Below you, Jake is a mess, absolutely destroyed by all the attention he’s getting between the two of you, and you can tell he’s already close.

Leaning down you press a kiss to the sensitive spot on his neck before whispering in his ear, “You can cum anytime!”

He whines, shaking his head. “Need… please!”

“What do you need baby?” You ask, as he jerks below you again. “Need you to cum first. Wanna watch!”

“How sweet!” Bob mocks behind him, and you glare at him before returning your attention to Jake, who didn’t even seem to hear him. Ducking down, you kiss him, tongue darting into his open mouth as he pants.

You can feel Bob shifting again, and a hand is snaking in between you and Jake, before there are fingers on your clit, rubbing tight controlled circles. It’s enough to have you shattering around Jake, clenching tight around him as your toes curl and your vision goes white.

Distantly, you feel Jake speed up as warmth spreads inside of you, before he’s slowing down, but the fingers on your clit don’t stop until you have completely come down from your orgasm and you’re whining at Bob that it’s to much.

The first thing you see when you open your eyes is Bob sucking hickeys onto Jakes neck, and you know that he’s going to complain about them tomorrow, but he will do nothing to hide them, and will not so secretly stare at them in any reflective surface he can find.

A content smile spreads over your face as you look at your boys, and you just know, everything is going to be alright.

#top gun threesomeissance 2023 #top gun maverick #Jake Seresin Smut #Jake Hangman seresin #Jake Hangman Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #Hangman x reader smut #Hangman x reader x bob #Bob Floyd #Bob Floyd Smut #Bob Floyd x reader smut

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sayoneee · 9 months

Text

☆ LET'S DANCE

slughorn decides to play matchmaker for the day, leading to your public humiliation (2.4k)

contains: idiots in love. very loosely based on the david bowie song. swearing. possibly ooc sirius. bit of an existential crisis ig. slughorn. sirius has jokes (bad ones). not proofread

kashaf’s note: havent posted in ages hopefully u like this

YOU LONGED FOR summer’s embrace, and the warm reprieve from the demands of school, yet you are afraid of what it might bring. the longer you try to savor the last of your sixth year, and dream of the carefree hours under never-ending sunlight soon within your grasp, the harder it becomes to ignore the continuously grim headlines of the daily prophet presented at the breakfast table every morning. even amidst your friends’ laughter, the looming shadow of anti-muggle-born propaganda pushed forward by unseen hands propels them to dissect and debate on almost molecular levels, each point characterized by a bite or a clang of a fork.

the end of your sixth year brings unshakeable exhaustion as constant vigilance weaves itself into everyday life within the ancient walls of the castle, adding to the suddenly rigorous course load attempting to prepare your year for their upcoming n.e.w.t.s. hogwarts, once a haven, now demanded a watchful eye on every staircase and dark corridor, as the hallways echoed with ghostly rumors and whispers found their homes on the staircases.

“mare, stop tryna murder slughorn with your eyes; he might catch on,” you hissed at mary under your breath, elbowing her discreetly, as you try to appear focused on slughorn’s lesson.

“maybe he’ll learn his lesson and stop splitting us up,” mary responded resolutely, never once breaking eye contact with the balding pudgy man who, in a horribly clichéd fit of inspiration, had begun assigning partners to brew amortentia in the double-potions period you had been blessed with today.

the somewhat impulsive decision of “james potter and lily evans” had you and mary turning to each other, eyebrows raised as you wondered quite how thick slughorn could be. in general, no one knew what was going on between james and lily. at this point, you surmised neither did they. they had had odd bouts of camaraderie, quickly replaced with civil hostility, resulting in a continuous loop of poorly disguised affection or hatred, like a roulette wheel deciding which lily and james to match up each day.

you prayed to merlin, hoping whatever disastrous infliction that had befallen slughorn for him to pair james with lily would not contagiously affect his decision for you, and that slughorn would come to his senses and let you spend the amortentia lesson with your sanity intact. alas, merlin had no such qualms about leaving you to fend for yourself as the anticipation you felt when slughorn called your name quickly soured to horror when he followed it up with none other than “sirius black”.

despite the number of mutual friends shared—after your friend groups warmed up to each other this year—the two of you had never gotten along. you’ve since chalked it up to his propensity for being aggravating without rhyme or reason, seemingly driven by an inherent desire to extract reactions. his words, laced with a mirth hard to ignore, are like finely crafted spells designed to unravel your patience. the rest of the school’s population are able to dismiss him, but your inability to ignore him has become something of an enigma.

feeling sirius’s presence next to you, without turning to face him, you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, “am i gonna have to remain vigil over our cauldron in case it blows up the minute my back is turned?”

“as flattering as it is to hear you admit that you’ve been watching me over the years—” here, you let out a derisive snort, causing sirius to pause, and raise his eyebrows at you in challenge, “when have you seen me jinx my own cauldron?” he continued, a smirk tugging at his lips as he loosened his tie even further.

you groaned, finally making eye contact with him, unsurprised to see that all-too-familiar glint in his grey eyes, “can we please just get this over with already?”

in your six shared years of schooling, you have always distantly conceded him to be handsome, his features falling into the realm of casual observance amidst the whirlwind of classes, and quidditch matches. yet, the way he stares down at you in this moment stirs something within you, the unfamiliar fluttering awakening a newfound awareness.

his locks of black hair fall delicately in his eyes, as if afraid to obstruct your view. the silver gleam of his piercings catch the glow of the potions bubbling around you, an intricate constellation along the curve of his ears—a bold declaration of his rebelliousness. the smile tugging at the corners of his lips is enigmatic, as if he’s aware that he’s just shifted something fundamental between you.

“aren’t you moving a little too fast?” sirius continued when you turned to him confused, “take me out to dinner first.”

you glared at him as understanding dawned on you, “i’m literally going to murder you if you don’t shut up, i swear to merlin.”

“aren’t you kinky?”

you spin around, pointing your wand at his jugular, watching his adam’s apple bob up then down as he threw his hands up in surrender, an easy-going grin gracing his features, “woah there, guess i touched a nerve, huh?”

you know he’s baiting you, you know his talent for finding weaknesses and exploiting them all too well, but you can’t help yourself when it comes to him, falling into the trap carefully set out for you, biting out a retort before you’re aware of it, “you won’t have any nerves left when i’m done with you.”

sirius grins, no—bares his teeth at you, wolfishly, and suddenly you understand all of james’s dog-related jokes over the years.

the two of you remain uncharacteristically quiet for the remainder of the potion, you’re surprised by sirius’s begrudging help, and soon enough, you’re sliding the last ingredient in.

the potion looks right to you, with the mother-of-pearl sheen slughorn gushed about for all of the class period, but you can’t tell because your senses were invaded by the distinct smell of cologne causing you to wrinkle your nose as you eyed sirius apprehensively.

he seemed to be having the same predicament as you currently, perfect brows furrowed in thought as his eyes glance over the potion.

“i can’t tell if we did it right,” you venture.

“me neither,” he shrugs, “all i can smell is your perfume—by the way, did you have to use the whole bottle?”

“i could say the same for you—the room reeks of your cologne, asshole.”

“more like your perfume—”

“i literally ran out this morning—”

“because you dumped the whole bottle on yourself?”

“literally pot calling the kettle black—”

“i am a black—”

“i literally hate you so much—”

a sharp, disapproving cough splits the two of you apart, not only had your argument grown embarrassingly loud in its procession, but it had also orchestrated a gravitational pull between the two of you. the result had been proximity that bordered on the intimate, your personal space evaporating until you were mere inches apart. the ignominy of being publicly seen at sirius black’s throat was nothing compared to the humiliation that followed after slughorn’s unexpected interruption.

slughorn’s rotund figure regards the two of you with a mixture of curiosity and mild exasperation, his mustache twitching slightly in rhythm with the exaggerated rise and fall of his breath, “my dears,” he begins, his tone a blend of genuine concern and theatrical flair, “what seems to be the problem? your potion appears to be brewed successfully, i can see the characteristic smoke spirals, and the mother-of-sheen pearl.”

flushed with embarrassment that seems to spread through you like a fever, you mumble your response lowly, “sorry, professor, but we couldn’t tell because of external factors.”

the air in the room seems to thicken as the collective gaze of your classmates turns toward the two of you, their eyes capturing the awkwardness with an unabashed curiosity that makes you wish you could use a time-turner to escape this particular moment of public humiliation.

slughorn’s hearty laughter fills the room like a boisterous charm, “oho, i see the problem now, my dear,” he addresses you, his eyes crinkling with amusement, “tell me, what do you smell in the amortentia?”

his words hang in the air, and the room's atmosphere has shifted from tense to expectant.

confused, you play with the hem of your skirt as you wonder the relevancy of his question, your gaze flickering uncertainly, tracing patterns in the stone floor as you respond, “um, cologne, leather, and brownies, professor.”

the room, for a moment, becomes a canvas of uncomfortable silence, and you're resolutely avoiding making eye contact with anyone else in the room.

satisfied with your response, slughorn pivots his attention to sirius, a gleam of intrigue dancing in his eyes, "now you, my boy," he encourages, his voice a velvet stroke, "go on, tell us what you smell."

a twist of surprise clenches within you as you expect sirius to brush off the request, to summon a sarcastic remark as his defense. yet, to your astonishment, he complies, his fingers raking through his hair, “perfume, shampoo, and petrol, professor."

slughorn nods sagely, his lips curving into a satisfied grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes. he claps his hands together once, the sound a punctuation to his assessment. the atmosphere in the room has shifted from suspenseful to charged, every student suspended in the tension of his next words.

"my dears," he addresses the class with the air of a professor on the brink of a profound lesson, "you smell each other in the amortentia, that is your problem."

the previously stifling silence is breached as the dungeon is painted with a symphony of snickers. the air seems to vibrate with laughter, and there's even a bold wolf whistle, which you're almost certain is courtesy of james. yet, amidst this collective amusement, all you can feel is disconcertment, the weight of attention heavy upon you.

as if merlin himself takes pity on your predicament, slughorn's laughter ripples through the room, warm and infectious, as he claps his hands together again, “my young scholars, it's time for practicality. bottle your amortentia, label it, and kindly leave it on my desk before making your exit."

with that, your hasty exit from the dungeon turns into a veritable escape, as you shoulder your bag against your side. every nerve in your body screams for invisibility, to become nothing more than a background figure. however, as you weave your way through the corridors, hoping to dissolve into the anonymity of the crowd, you're struck by sirius black’s unwavering dedication in trailing behind you despite each step you take further into the deepening throng of students.

just before you can approach the fat lady’s portrait, a hand closes on your elbow and a startled gasp escapes you as you are abruptly yanked into a hidden alcove, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. your eyes adjust to the sudden darkness, but before you can react, a large hand firmly pressed against your mouth, thick silver rings digging uncomfortably against your lips. glaring at your kidnapper, you folded your arms across your chest.

acutely aware of the proximity, of the scent of cologne now much fainter than in the dungeons, you wait with a mixture of frustation and curiosity. sirius leans as far back as the alcove will let him, which is not much, but at least he’s no longer lurking over you like a predator staring down its prey.

“the fuck do you want?” you could care less if you smelled him or if he smelled you in the amortentia, because as far as you’re concerned, the two of you can continue to dance around each other in the way you have perfected over the years. in your delicate ballet, he is the master of light-hearted jests flickering like fireflies in the summer dusk, and you are the recipient of his playful pranks and ceaseless banter, carrying an unspoken agreement, holding onto the game you both secretly treasured.

its predictability is comforting, the way his remarks are as reliable as the rising sun, and your laughter feels like a shared secret between only the two of you. the amortentia's revelations feel like an unnecessary intrusion, an attempt to place confusing labels on your little game.

“go out with me,” sirius levels a roguish grin at you, his grey eyes dance with the mischief you are so accustomed to seeing.

all you want is to say yes, to revel in stolen glances, the exhilaration of shared laughter, the brushing of your fingers together, and strolling carefree across the castle grounds, but your world isn’t one satisfied by teen romances. it’s one where every word and connection is scrutinized under the weight of a society where love and friendship are tainted by its fixation on blood status.

you cannot bring yourself to look into his eyes, twinkling with genuine interest, feeling a pang of bitterness as you consider the reality of your world. to say yes would be to risk both your safety and that of your friends, and who knows if the ensuing conflict would leave either of you unscathed.

“i can’t,” you still cannot bring yourself to look him in the eye as you deliver this unseen rejection with a bittersweet smile, torn between longing for normalcy and the harsh lessons you’ve learned with every picture and name added to the growing list of victims.

“why not?” sirius asks, confusion coloring his features, as he searches your gaze, attempting to make eye contact.

you don’t know how to explain without seeming as if you’re getting ahead of yourself, thinking of the distant future, but you try anyway, wringing your hands together, “we don’t know what’ll happen in a year or two, sirius. we don’t even know if we’ll be alive after we graduate.”

his hands cradle your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye, the cool press of his metal rings against your burning skin is soothing, “i’m asking for right now,” he continues, softly, gentler than you have ever known him, his gaze holding yours in quiet intensity, “for you to live for yourself—”

the uncertain future shapes into one of possibility, and so, without conscious thought, you surge forward to kiss him, clumsier than you would have liked, and messier than you have ever known, but it feels right.

“so, that’s a yes for hogsmeade this weekend?”

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batshieroglyphics · 18 days

Text

[FIC] Nothing But Bones ~ Star Wars Prequels ~ Alpha-17/Obi-Wan Kenobi ~ Mature

Title: Nothing But Bones Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Era Author: Batsutousai Rating: Mature Pairing: Alpha-17/Obi-Wan Kenobi, background cloneshipping Warnings: Alternate Universe, Order 66, post-Order 66, PTSD, non-binary clone troopers, survivor's grief, OC death, bad coping methods, original slave characters, miscommunication Summary: Alpha-17 finds Obi-Wan, after the galaxy's gone to hell.

Seventeen looked across at him. Kenobi had lowered the blaster, but he hadn't put it away. He looked tired, worn down and suspicious, and Seventeen found themself wanting to reach out to him, to pull him close and hug him, like Baar had done during bad nights on Kamino. (Somehow, they'd gone soft, in the years between Rattatak and now. They weren't certain how to feel about that.) "I thought you were dead," Seventeen admitted, knew from the way that Rokaia stiffened that she understood. They'd thought Kenobi would, too—they'd never been able to hide much from him, not with his Force—but he just sighed and asked, in a tired voice, "Why are you here, Seventeen?" Seventeen took a moment to debate all the possible answers to that, before saying, "I came here to die." Rokaia let out a sound like she'd been stabbed, while Kenobi just closed his eyes, looking tired and worn as thin as Seventeen felt. "Where's Cody?" Seventeen had to ask, because they couldn't imagine the little shit would allow their general out on his own, not when his mere existence was a crime. "Cody," Kenobi said, agony in his voice, "ordered me shot." Seventeen felt the words like a bolt in the gut, couldn't stop from staggering to the side, Rokaia dragged along with, shouting their name, until they could lean against the nearest wall, trying to catch their breath, to breathe through the horror of Cody, just another faceless body in armour, wanting the Jedi they'd sworn to Seventeen to guard with their life—on pain of a punishment spar or suicide runs or whatever punishment Seventeen thought would hurt enough—dead. Kriff, they did not need that nightmare fuel. They felt Rokaia pulling away from them, opened their eyes to look, see why, only to find Kenobi had approached, within easy reach, and Seventeen couldn't stop themself from reaching out, towards him, needing to touch, to know he was real. Kenobi flinched. Seventeen froze, hands outstretched, thought about pulling away. Stepping back. Leaving. (Their voice had ordered him shot; their face had stood for a mutiny, had stared blankly at the scene of a murder; they could not blame Kenobi if he wanted nothing to do with them.) Except, then, Kenobi reached out, catching one of Seventeen's hands with his own. Seventeen felt it like an electroshock, couldn't tell if they wanted to flinch back or lunge forward, and so was left trapped in stillness, watching Kenobi step forward, closer still, close enough that Seventeen could wrap their hands around his throat and squeeze. (They were a weapon, had always been, but they had never felt quite so dangerous around Kenobi before, not like this.) "Are you going to shoot me?" Kenobi asked, quiet. Something in Seventeen felt like it had cracked open, raw and bleeding, and they had to swallow down bile or a scream, they couldn't say which, before they could say, "No." Swallowed again, harder, and managed to add, "I'm gonna shoot Cody." Kenobi's smile was a bitter, brittle thing, and Seventeen couldn't resist, any more, the urge to pull him close, against their chest, and wrap their arms around him, ignoring his stiffness, the terror that they hadn't seen on Rattatak, not once, but fancied they could smell on him, now. Kenobi stayed stiff for a moment that dragged into hours and days, before he relaxed with a whispered, "Oh," and strong hands came up to clench at Seventeen's shoulders, tight enough to ache, to hopefully leave bruises deep, where they would throb for days, so Seventeen couldn't forget that this was real, that he was real. Here. Alive. "I thought you were dead," Seventeen said again, tried not to care when their voice cracked. "I'm not," Kenobi whispered, and squeezed Seventeen's shoulders, then pulled away.

You can read the whole fic on Archive of Our Own!

Please take pity on a poor starving author and reblog this post? (Doubly important for rare-pairs, y'all.)

#AlphaObi #17Obi #alpha 17 #fandom:star wars #pairing:alpha-17 x Obi-Wan Kenobi #one shot

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wayfayrr · 10 months

Text

Sage is up and on edge! what crimes will he commit?

(all of them, and reader will be none the wiser <3)

Part Two of this! Part three is Here!

Also if anyone wants to see Sage introduced to anything in particular feel free to ask, I've got a couple of ideas in mind but I'm curious what you guys think would be interesting. and as a heads up Sage is TotK link as a separate link from wild

"Earth? The place you mentioned when you were talking about your home? That earth?"

"Yeah. That earth. My home actually, lucky as those odds are. so uhh, any questions? I know you’re probably as overwhelmed being here as I was when I first ended up in Hyrule; I won’t be afraid to answer anything."

I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone’s face switch between emotions as rapidly as his in that moment, I don't even think it would be possible to be any faster. Shock, surprise, anger, and a few more that I can’t put my finger on before settling on pride?

It’s as good a guess as any for what he’s feeling right now, especially considering he looks like a smug cat. Granted he’s not outwardly panicking now which is an improvement whether that’s due to me offering to answer questions or due to me knowing where we are is up for debate.

"And I’m the only link here?"

…Unless you count the links in the games, not like I’m getting into that.

"Certainly seems that way doesn’t it? Hopefully, they’re not panicking badly."

You know what?

I was wrong.

His face could switch even quicker, seemingly because I shoved the equivalent of a lemon into his mouth before he regained his composure. Blink and you’ll miss it moment really. I could question it, but right now? It's not worth my stress.

I'm sure he’s just overwhelmed, right?

"Oh don’t be worried [name], they’re heroes of legend. They already have Hylia looking over them. They’ll survive without you."

Okay then, he’s stressed. Of course he is, I know I was when this was all flipped. Just so happens that his way of destressing is by speaking bitterly about the others, so it’s probably worth it to change the conversation completely rather than get into it while he’s overwhelmed.

"... You’re probably right. I’m overthinking things."

Huh.

Didn’t think that would calm him as much as it did. Seems being alone with him, when we aren’t in his Hyrule at least, lets him show his true colours more easily. I wish I could say it calmed me as well.

Relaxing would be nice right now however I’ve still got a stupid number of notifications to respond to, to figure out how to respond to. Before people start getting suspicious; before they start asking questions; before someone recognises him.

It's fine, there’s time to pull myself together, to sort everything out. Sage doesn't need to have me panicking while he’s adjusting. He deserves someone stable after everything he’s gone through, and I can be that. I know I can, I just need to buy myself some time to think, to clear my head.

"It might be an idea to get you some clothes while you adjust. You should be able to fit into some of mine, they’ll do for a bit at least."

"You’d let me... You would let me wear your clothes?"

He would be mortified if he saw the look on his face now, what with him fawning like a lovestruck puppy. There wasn’t even a single hope in attempting to hold back my laugh while dragging him to my room.

"What else could I do? It’s not like you can stay in those all the time. Take whatever you want, something in there is bound to fit you."

"Whatever I - Thank you."

If I wasn't so unnerved by how he was acting a couple of moments earlier? I’d be melting at how cute he’s being. But that raw visceral hatred in his eyes when I brought up the other heroes, even though it only lasted for a split second?

No.

Worry about that later [name]. Focus on helping him adjust and to readjust yourself. Stop reading too deeply into things.

Luckily, it worked how I wanted it to. Sage is distracted for the minute giving me a chance to look over any messages and hopefully catch myself back up to speed. There can’t be much to have missed in less than a day though. Nothing that time-sensitive either.

A bundle of clothes shoved into my face wasn’t exactly what I thought would snap me out of dredging through messages and playing catch-up; it’s a clear tell he’s found something he's pleased with.

"These are mine now."

"Huh - okay, I guess?? Are you going to change into them or just stand there?"

Have I done something wrong??

He's never looked at me like this before, I can't tell what he's thinking.

"Do you want me to get changed into them here?"

"What!? No, I meant - Not here! You can change in the bathroom, you can have a shower as well then. You really need one…"

Seems he got his payback about me laughing at him earlier though, with how red my face is. Even if he did look a bit confused about my comment.

Wordlessly taking his hand in mine after regaining my composure, I led him to the bathroom; gave him a quick rundown of everything; then left him to sort himself out after I was confident he could manage.

To be fair to Sage it’s not like I don’t also need one, Hyrule’s hygiene left a lot to be missed. Soap, hot running water and even a soft towel sound like bliss.

Between Freshening up with some clean clothes; reminding myself that nothing has expired here despite feeling otherwise; preparing a couple of drinks, and shifting back into this mundane life feels almost overwhelming. If Sage weren’t here with me I’d be going insane, doubting anything and everything that happened in Hyrule.

But he is here, and I’ve not gone insane. Not yet at least.

There’s not exactly any harm in waiting around and enjoying some luxury either though. Physics isn’t advanced to the point of having portals nor do we have magic to do it; waiting is our sole option to get back Hyrule and the chain.

Has Sage wrapped his arms around my waist!? When did he even get out of the shower? Have I really been so lost in thought and oblivious?

"You’re sure nothing here has been tampered with at all, I wouldn’t put it past the shadow. I still have supplies you can use, we shouldn’t risk anything."

"I well- it should be fine, shouldn’t it? If the shadow wanted us dead, it would’ve killed us outright when it had that chance, surely?"

"Um, also Sage, mind if I ask why you’re holding me like this?"

He sounds so tired and defeated, it’s hard not to drop everything for him at the slightest chance to ease his burdens. While a quiet groan then being tugged closer to him, at any other time would have flustered me again, is concerning given that portal could have affected him in any number of ways.

"The gloom’s actin’ up like the portal did something. I'm just… You don’t mind do you?"

"Oh Lavender, do you want to take my bed for a bit, or at the very least sit-down? I should have some painkillers around here somewhere."

Must be agonising if he’s like this seeing as he's not willing to go into detail, to set aside his fear of being vulnerable, nor is he willing to let go of me despite the promise of painkillers. He’s got me wrapped around his finger like this; it wouldn’t surprise me if he knew either.

"Hold me? Please?"

"Of course, I’ll hold you. Although wouldn’t you rather sit somewhere comfortable?"

Now he’s not even bothering to speak, only whining quietly while he clutches me tighter in his embrace. Therefore it was a simple choice to lay him against me as I sat down, giving him unspoken permission to rest his head on me.

Oddly enough with how he’s got his face against me…

I could have sworn he was smirking.

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #lu sage #yandere lu sage

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vaspider · 3 months

Note

I genuinely hope this isn’t too prying or intrusive, I am strictly asking out of curiosity but…. What…. Is going on with that 16 year old and why is it on a post about a house coat? Are you ok?

I'm fine.

That kid has been fixated on me since I said, basically, that the French Revolution killed a bunch of innocent people and isn't something to be emulated.

For the past 3 weeks, since I told her to leave me alone on Tumblr, she's been stalking me across the internet, digging up every possible way to contact me, and sending elaborate death threats along with suicide threats. I've turned off the contact forms on my professional website and NK. She's sent asks here and contacted me from multiple Tumblrs, multiple Facebook and Instagram accounts, TikTok, LinkedIn, Reddit, YouTube, BlueSky, and multiple email accounts. I'm pretty sure I'm missing something, though I do have it all screenshotted and saved. She found my phone number and left multiple threatening voicemails, and she kept contacting my business, sending death threats to places where my employees, including my younger brother, had to deal with them.

She seems to think that I'm a man, and that I'm attempting to use magic on her, and that she can threaten me into doing whatever it is she wants. I don't really understand what's going on in her head, and I'm not trying to do so. I don't really read the things she writes.

At this point, the FBI is involved - she's been sending death threats pretty much every day for about a month now with a few breaks here and there - and I've been declining to respond to her for the vast majority of that time, hoping that she'd get bored, or, hopefully, that someone who cares about her would realize how deeply, deeply unwell she is and get her help before this becomes a criminal matter. I really, really don't want to be put in that position, but I also can't ask the people who work for me (some of whom are my family) to deal with a constant barrage of messages detailing how if I don't publicly apologize for ... fuck all if I know or care... she's going to "slit [my] throat like a Sicilian" and throw my body in the Willamette River.

I really, really, really just want this kid to leave me alone. I didn't seek her out - she sought me out - and I'm not interested in talking to or debating with a 16 year old. But, also, the things that she's been doing for the past month are crimes and truly beyond the pale.

As to why that's on a video about a housecoat... your guess is as good as mine. Her last comments before this were on the two public videos on my abandoned YouTube account, both of which were process videos about making patches, and she left death threats on a post on my old personal Instagram that I made on the day of the Tree of Life shooting. It has nothing to do with me or what I'm saying - she seems to just randomly pick things to add her bizarre urban fantasy VASpider fanfic to.

Please leave that person alone, everybody. She is a third my age and very clearly deeply unwell. I'd been ignoring her, but I'm kind of hoping against hope that knowing that, yeah, actually, what she's doing is a crime, people take that seriously, and I really really really don't want her to fuck up her life? will convince her to stop.

I'm not afraid. I'm mostly just tired and very, very sad. It is really upsetting to see someone who is so out of alignment with consensus reality, and it's even more upsetting when that person is so young. I feel deeply sorry for her, both that she's unwell in a way that's clearly causing her harm, and that she doesn't seem to be getting the help she needs from the people around her. I hope it's just that the people around her don't realize what's going on and that someone can make them aware, because it is just... rotten... to see someone that young making such a mess of things.

I don't want to talk about this further. I've been avoiding talking about it publicly at all, but at the point where we're closing on a month... I dunno. I hope saying something directly and making it clear this isn't going to go the way she thinks gets it through to her.

I'm gonna go play with my dog.

#harassment #harassment tag #asker is not harassing me #this just deals with my current stalker

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findingnemosworld · 8 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @a-little-bit-rascal

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥.

Y/N was a firm believer of fate, that whatever occurs was predetermined for her - and apparently going through two heartbreaks seemed to be the case, and while it does not seem that big of a deal to some, for her it was; as her heartbreaks were plastered online for everyone to see, Y/N was no ordinary girl, she'd been fortunate to break through the industry as a popular actor and dancer which had garnered her a sizable following, the exact following that saw her break down and come undone only to rise and get straight to work not allowing herself to fully grief the heartbreak until she was in her hometown, and yet somehow, after those heartbreak she was blessed, and it all started the day she had been invited to attend Wimbledon.

She was seated next to a handsome brunette man, around her age dressed in an all black casual yet stylish ensemble, with sunglasses over his eyes, and it wasn't until he removed them that she realized exactly who he was - Chelsea and England's star, Ben Chilwell.

The pair exchanged small talk which quickly formed into a conversation after the event as they exchanged numbers, Ben had even taken the initiative by asking her out on a date, then another and another when time was possible, yet in the midst of those six months nearing seven, they'd never discussed the possibility of becoming anything more than just two adults casually spending time together, while she didn't fault him for not labelling their relationship ( that's if it's a relationship ) she couldn't help but feel lost.

She knew she liked him, quite a lot yet the fear of abandonment, or worse, being dumped for the third time took over, hence why she never brought it up, firmly believing that Ben didn't see them going as far as they can.

Except he did.

You see, while Y/N was stressing over the prospect of them going far in their relationship, Ben was so enamored by her that his England teammates were the unfortunate victims of his affinity for the dancer, particularly James Maddison.

" Mate " James interjects, " I know you're obsessed with her, but for the love of all that is holy, stop! "

It was then that Ben realized that he had been oversharing a bit too much, " Sorry bout that " he murmurs.

" It's fine " James said, " I understand how you feel, I mean I was like that when I first met Kennedy, and here I am, three kids in and happily in love " he grew silent before smiling, " I have an idea, why don't we invite her to come? "

" I don't know mate, she's probably busy " Ben shrugs, as he knew she had a tight schedule of performances and the fact that he didn't want to scare her by making such a big move.

" Listen, Kennedy won't be able to come because she has to watch over the kids, I'll ask her to phone Y/N and see if she can come to Poland instead " James said, then adds with an eye roll, " If she says yes, you will man up, ask her to be your girlfriend and hopefully, get me out of my misery "

____

This is ludicrous, she shouldn't have allowed herself to be persuaded like this yet here she was, at the airport in the small shop looking at something to get for Ben - all the while she was debating if she should just walk out and miss the flight, her thoughts were soon broken by a familiar sound, she looks up to see Aine May in front of her, the girlfriend of Ben's teammate, Conor Gallagher.

" Y/N " Aine May smiles, embracing her before frowning. " You alright? "

Y/N attempted to wave it off with a smile, " Yeah, I just - I was looking for something to get Ben before the flight and I ... " she trails off and swallows the lump in her throat, " Am I making the right choice? I mean, we aren't even serious and here I am acting like a girlfriend " she chuckles.

The blonde girl shakes her head, " Show me your ticket? "

Y/N complies, giving her the ticket; Aine May grins, " we are literally sitting next to one another, come on, I'm getting a new cologne for Conor since he finished his last one "

They spent the next hour roaming through to get what they felt was fitting, and then boarding the flight. Y/N's mind felt messy, yet Aine May assured her that she'll be fine, that Ben would be happy to see her as several of the other WAG's would be there, the only thing she can hope for was that Ben would be happy to see her, otherwise ... this will be a terrible idea.

______________________________________________________________

( I know England flopped in the match but let's pretend they didn't )

The teams were in the tunnel, Ben stood behind James - and while he tried his best to focus, his brain draws back to Y/N and when James turned to him, he sighs. " Mate, relax! " he said, Ben sighs and shakes his head, " I should have asked her to come, I mean ... I miss her a lot, I know I sound like a sap but it's true "

" Yes, you do sound like a sap " James sighs softly, " Now, focus on the game and who knows, maybe she did come, I mean Kennedy didn't say anything but you never know " he shrugs.

They were ushered out onto the pitch, and Ben opted not to dwell on Y/N and instead try his best to pour his focus onto the upcoming match - they'd taken the pictures and were then dispersed onto the pitch in their assigned positions, the first half was definitely intense for England as clearly Ukraine were attempting their best to score early and unfortunately they'd done just that, the goal had definitely placed a damper on them throughout the first half up until the extra minutes when they walked in.

Y/N was able to catch the end of the first half and was heartbroken seeing the dejection on Ben as well as the England players as they had hoped not to concede, she took her seat next to Aine May who filled her on what happened earlier, the pair continued to chat until the second half began which seemed to pan out better for England who had thankfully equalized the scoresheet thanks to Kyle Walker's goal.

At around the 58th minute, England were awarded a corner which Ben jogged up to the corner to perform, and right then; he looked up and saw her, his face lights up almost instantly and just then, he turns around executing the corner which thankfully had the ball pushed into the net by Jude Bellingham thus granting England the lead over Ukraine, and provided them with momentum to keep the match in their favor until the very end.

Aine May nudges Y/N to alert her of Ben running over to greet her, what she didn't expect was to be greeted by a warm embrace followed by a soft kiss that radiated a deep sense of longing, " I missed you so much " Ben whispers.

" Yeah? " Y/N beams.

" Thank god you're here " James interrupts them, " He was driving us mad with how much he missed you " he laughs.

" Finally mate " Jude yells with a laugh.

" God knows how long we had to sit and endure him sapping over how much he missed her " Declan joins in.

" Stop it you two " came the voice of their captain and friend Harry Kane, " it's not his fault he's in love " he chuckles.

" But he had us wanting to drive heads up the wall Haz " Jude groans.

" Yeah, plus we couldn't sleep well " Conor said.

Y/N looks at Ben who blushes, " That bad huh? "

" You can't even imagine " Ben chuckles.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell fanfiction #ben chilwell one shot #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell fluff #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell x reader

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jayvolans · 1 year

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𝐥𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝗼𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 | 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝗺 𝐬𝗺𝐚𝐮

𝐗𝐈𝐕. 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒

Y: Good morning everyone, and welcome to another segment of our Stellar Lunar analysis!

A: As I’m sure you can tell, this was not scheduled, but some of you reached out to ask for help on a latent theme analysis of chapter 7.

Y: Wow, your intros have gotten so much better! Didn’t think you had it in you~

A: …thanks. I guess.

Y: Alright, enough chit chat let’s get to it!

A: *unintelligible noise*

A: Please, please, please tell me you don’t actually believe that…

Y: And why wouldn’t I? You can’t take everything she says at face value!

A: Yes, you can. Not everything has a deeper meaning.

Y: And I would agree, but in this instance our narrator has been proved time and time again to be completely unreliable because of her mental state. The whole point of this is that we absolutely can’t trust everything she says.

A: I guess I… didn’t consider that. So with that being said, what do you think she meant by her statement?

Y: Oh my god… is the Alhaitham agreeing with me AND asking me a question, all in the same sentence?! I think I’ve seen it all!

A: Technically it was two sentences.

Y: Ugh, way to ruin the moment.

A: But you-

Y: One of these days we’re going to have to agree on something!

A: As soon as you start making sensible points we will.

Y: What makes you right? Our classmates love my point of view!

A: …

Y: Whatever.

A: Anyways, hopefully I’ll rub off on you so you can look at this logically.

Y: None of this book is logical though! That’s like- the entire point! And the seventh chapter is the most convoluted and non-straightforward part!

A: You’ve… read the whole book?

Y: You haven’t?

A: Of course I have.

Y: We’ll talk about the ending later.

A: Agreed.

A: I think I might strangle you.

Y: Cut.

A: What?

Y: Cut the cameras. Deadass.

A: Can’t win the debate so now you have to fight me?

Y: For your information, I’d win both, no questions asked!

A: Oh yeah?

And the next thing you know, Alhaitham is towering over you, haughty eyes looking down on you. Only slightly daunted, you stood up to meet his glare.

It was quiet in the room, the only sound being his quiet breathing and the ticking clock. “This isn’t a fight you can win,” Alhaitham grinned, but it was less mocking than you expected.

In fact, his narrowed eyes danced with mirth, taking you by surprise. “Oh please, I could take a nerd like you down any day,” you huffed, hands on your hips. Alhaitham snorted out a laugh as he stepped closer, and now you were chest to chest. “I’d like to see you try.”

Your frown deepened at his taunt. “You’re insufferable sometimes, Alhaitham,” you bit out. There had been an odd tension that had been present the whole recording, and now it was reaching its peak.

Chest to chest, nose to nose, he was insufferable to you, but you couldn’t get enough of your back and forth with him, couldn’t get enough of him. And maybe it was just the lingering heightened emotions from your near arguments, but you couldn’t help but want to be closer still.

It might’ve been wishful thinking, but from the way he was staring, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way. “God, you talk too much,” He hissed.

But before you could make a retort, his lips were pressed feverishly to yours. Your noise of surprise was muffled by his lips as he pressed your body closer to his.

It felt as though a haze was clouding your mind and stealing your judgment, but you couldn’t stop your arms from curling themselves around his neck.

He was intoxicating, and you were falling deep. The way his lips moved against yours was a mix of precision and passion that pulled you further into him.

His hand carefully cradled your jaw, allowing him to deepen the kiss more than you thought possible. You needed to breathe, and thought he would too, but Alhaitham seemed wholly content to only breathe you in, showing no signs of stopping.

You had to force yourself to pull away, but you couldn’t find yourself regretting it when you saw his expression. Eyes half lidded, lips swollen, and cheeks dusted pink… it was not something you could’ve ever imagined seeing on Alhaitham’s face, but the last thing you were doing was complaining.

“What was that?” You mumbled, unable to escape his gaze. And just like that, his infuriating smirk was back in full force. “I told you; you talk too much.”

You groaned, flicking his forehead. “Shut up. Anyways, we definitely have to cut that part out,” You sighed, but you weren’t at all displeased, and it was obvious that Alhaitham knew it too.

“Why? I think it adds to the argument,” He shrugged.

A: With all of that being said, I hope this was as productive for all of you as it was for me.

Y: Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?

A: I think you know, yn.

Y: I-?!

A: Anyways, if you have anymore questions reach out to either Professor Lisa or us. Anything to add, yn?

Y: H-huh?

A: Tch. You were complaining about my intros when it’s really your outros that are the problem…

Y: Hey-!

A: Goodbye and thanks for watching.

Y: Alha-!

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝗼𝐮𝐬❧ 𝗺𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭❧ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭❧

:D?

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (open)❧

@ruisann @imma-too-many-fandoms @coffeecasket @kokxm1 @lunastarjay @dksfl920 @chiisananingen @itonashi @pidgey-ontheloose @ceylestia @jinxnotpowder @natsum-s @xirthia @adorablezhui @sunsethw4 @deartoru @baelloraa @nambii @simplyxsinned @aixaingela @whipped-for-fictionals @keithsaccount @blayxe @nekogakuro @richxelle @rifran @flutterawayx @nolvngerhvman @celestair @klementime @apinu @http-mewchuu @phoenix-eclipses @court-jester-stuff @dustofthedailylife @albedos-world @taoluv @salamiwrites @imkaaayy @turtl3-warr1or @zombieb1t3 @nachotrash @xiaossocksniffer @duckyyyx @spilloverlove @thenightsflower @feverish-dove @evilenchantresss @sharkiestory @yomamastitties

#genshin impact #genshin impact smau #genshin smau #alhaitham #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham smau #kaveh #cyno #deyha #kaeya #childe #yae miko

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