#i might put this to ao3 too later
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There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.
False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…
She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.
“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day.
There is no other reaction to her call.
False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.
She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.
The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though.
Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes.
The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.
Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.
It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.
She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”
Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.
“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”
Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.
She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.
“Oh, hi there, False!”
False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.
Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.
“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”
“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.
“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem.
More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall.
“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.
False takes a step back.
“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”
“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”
There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye.
“Um…”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.
Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.
“Etho’s not here, is he?”
False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back.
They taste of sweet rot.
“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.
Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead.
Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”
“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.
“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.”
False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.
“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”
Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”
False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.
“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”
“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.
“Oops! Behind you, False!”
Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.
The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes.
“Oh no.”
The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.
“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.
The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.
“...Dangit.”
[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]
~*~
Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there.
“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault.
Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.
It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light.
And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:
Half a stack of cherry logs.
#falsesymmetry#geminitay#red said eldritch gem rights#let her be cheerful and scary too she deserves it#also there needs to be more Vault Hunter fic in the world. and more False content.#this was inspired by a post of some enormous redwood trees I saw the other day with teeny tiny people at the base of them#along with Gem's tree building -- the cherry trees in her hardcore and s9 builds#and the headcanon from hc8 and empires that she's a worldhopper#anyway this is the first thing I've really written in (over?) a year so... I'm quite happy about it.#might polish and put it on AO3 later but for now it's just for the hellsite <3#redwinterwrites#oh also excuse for creeper/minecraft worldbuilding yaaay XD
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number 81 for the writing prompts: "It's cold, you should take my jacket."
(mostly cause I wanna see Tim wear Kon's leather jacket and Neither of them being normal about it but do what you want with it it's your fic <3)
“Here.”
Tim looks up as Kon waltzes back into the living room, two enticingly-steaming mugs in his hands. Hot spiced apple cider sounds absolutely divine right now—the blustery Kansas day outside is reaching its icy fingers into the farmhouse despite the fire blazing merrily in the hearth, and Tim has to admit, he maybe should’ve packed warmer for this trip.
Kon presses one of the mugs into his hands—the nicer one, Tim notes, without the chip in the rim—and Tim accepts it with a grateful hum. The warmth seeps into his palms immediately. “Thanks.”
“No problemo, Rob-lemo.” Kon plops down next to him on the couch, his TTK keeping his cider perfectly still in his mug as he makes himself comfortable. “It’s pretty chilly out today. Gonna be a good night to go skating—the pond down by the McAllister’s place is frozen over, and this time of year, they string up lights ‘n’ invite all the neighbors to come by in the evenings. Wanna go?”
Tim hums in consideration. “Could be fun, but just warning you, it’s been a hot minute since I did any skating, so I’m kinda rusty. And I didn’t bring any skates.” Mmm, the steam rising up from his cider smells amazing. “Did you make this?”
Kon’s eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. Then he puffs out his cheeks in mock offense, folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t have to sound so surprised! I’m good in the kitchen.”
Yeah, Bart keeps calling him malewife material about it. Tim grins into his mug; it’s not his fault it’s so easy to ruffle Kon’s feathers, or that it’s so funny to do so. “I guess it is Ma’s recipe, so it’d be hard to make it bad.”
Kon politely waits for him to lower the mug from his mouth and then swats him on the back of the head. Tim does appreciate the pause, even as he ducks away, laughing. The cider tastes like apples and cinnamon and honey; warmth spreads through Tim’s chest.
“You’re rude,” Kon tells him. “Just for that, if you fall on your face when we go skating, I’m not helping you up. I’m just gonna laugh.”
“Oh, it’s a when we go skating now?” Tim quirks an eyebrow at him in turn. “I just said I didn’t bring any skates.”
“We can get you some, that’s no trouble,” Kon says, flapping a dismissive hand. Tim opens his mouth to ask where, exactly, in Smallville, can they get a pair of new ice skates in a matter of a couple of hours, but then closes it again when it hits him that even if there isn’t a big sporting goods shop in Smallville, geography isn’t really a concern to someone who can crisscross the entire globe in a matter of minutes.
“Yeah, okay, sure.” Tim lightly elbows him. “Don’t tell me you’re actually good at skating. I bet you just TTK your way through it.”
Kon elbows him back. “Yeah, right! I’m pretty decent, no powers required, actually. Been going plenty with Jon. He particularly loves this one roller dome in Metropolis that always has Super merch in the arcade claw games.”
Okay, Tim has to admit, he’s melting a little about that. Kon loves his little brother. The image of him taking Jon skating is really cute—he can just picture Jon wobbling along, holding Kon’s hand, and rambling about his day like he loves to do. He bites back a truly sappy smile; his toes curl instead, where they’re tucked under a cushion to stay warm.
“Lemme guess. The claw games are where you TTK it up.”
Kon snickers. “They’re rigged as hell, but the kid wants his misshapen Superman plushies, so obviously I gotta win ‘em for him.”
“Obviously,” Tim agrees. He curls his fingers around his mug a little tighter, soaking up its warmth; he’s got an actual winter coat for when they go out, but he really wishes he’d brought some thicker sweaters or hoodies for hanging around in the house itself. He’s used to the damp, creeping cold of Gotham; the blustery Kansas winters might be about the same temperature, but the wind out here blows right through him.
Kon shifts next to him, setting his cider down on a coaster on the coffee table. Tim glances up just in time to see him unzip and shrug out of his hoodie—it’s fleece-lined and light pink with a strawberry cow printed on the front breast pocket, very cute.
And then Kon leans over and wraps it around Tim’s shoulders. Tim’s face heats.
“It’s cold,” Kon explains. “Take my jacket. I don’t really need it that bad, anyway, so you may as well get some use out of it.”
It’s still warm from his body, and Tim lifts one hand from his mug to pull it more tightly around himself like a blanket. His nose brushes the collar when he turns his head a little. The jacket smells like Kon’s cologne.
…It’s the citrus-and-spice one Tim bought him last Christmas. He’s wearing the cologne Tim picked out for him last year, the one Tim definitely didn’t spend almost an hour agonizing over as he imagined tucking his face into Kon’s shoulder and inhaling this specific scent from his collarbone. He’s…
Tim’s face gets even hotter. Abruptly, he takes a gulp of hot cider, hiding in his mug. Kon’s jacket smells like him, and it’s warm, and it’s big and cozy and soft, and…
Kon is staring at him, Tim realizes belatedly. He didn’t notice because he was busy, uh, processing, but Kon’s looking at him like he’s…
Like he’s the last morsel of dessert on the table, and Kon has a ravenous craving for some sugar?
Tim swallows hard. Deliberately counts to eight on his next inhale and exhale. If he lets his heart rate pick up, Kon will definitely notice.
“Thanks,” he manages, finally. “That’s, uh. Yeah. That’s nice.”
“I’ll say,” Kon mutters. He drops his gaze, his cheeks a little pink, and then reaches over to ruffle Tim’s hair. “Bring warmer lounge clothes next time, dumbass. The farmhouse is kinda old. Gets drafty in here.”
“Yeah,” Tim says wryly. He shifts his weight, rearranging his legs so that instead of leaning on the armrest, he flops himself against Kon’s side, dropping his head to his shoulder for a moment. “I noticed.”
Kon leans his cheek against Tim’s hair. “At least you got me to keep you warm,” he sighs, slipping his arm around Tim’s shoulders. “What would you do without me, huh?”
Tim bites back the first response on the tip of his tongue (“Go into a huge depressive spiral?”) and goes for something a little less insane. “Freeze to death before you even get to laugh about me falling on my face at the McAllisters’ pond?”
Kon snorts. He’s comfortably warm against Tim’s side, and Tim snuggles a little closer, relishing his warmth. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Kon agrees. “I hope I can get it on video.”
Tim just smiles to himself and raises his mug for another sip of cider. The honey and spices are heavenly on his tongue, but if he’s being entirely honest, he can think of something sweeter.
#answers#barbitchian#this ended up being less about the jacket than i intended but i AM thinking abt other reasons tim might end up wearing kon's jackets.#i just also think kon in a cute pastel pink strawberry cow hoodie is cute :)#timkon#rimi writes#its such an awkward length skdjhsdjk like this feels too short to bother putting on ao3 but so long for a tumblr ficlet. man#maybe i will expand timkon wintertime fluff (inspired vaguely by hallmark vibes) later into a real fic. idk!#tim#kon
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Do you write fh (jy) fan fiction? If so is there a way I can read it? Thanks :>
I'll say I am writing fh fanfics! but its currently in my computer and nowhere else. maybe one day I'll get what I'm writing done and somewhere not my computer and I'll let folks know!
#not art#thats what the riz sheet I posted the other day was for lol. and there is a screencap of a bit of what I wrote under the cut there#thats the fic I wanna finish. but also its playing second fiddle to the comic rn. bc I Really wanna finish the comic#and honestly thats just how I work in general lol. I am a cartoonist first a human second and a prose writer mayybe third#I do write fics! but I do it in a very petulant way lol. I always say I wield this medium like a bat#a very selfish writer I am. well that somewhat extends to comics too but funnily enough theres kind of a limit on how selfish u can be#in a comic setting. bc u have to draw All That#it makes for a good filter for what ideas u Really think deserve to see the light of day tho. case in point the comic Im trying to#fuckign finish is thirty squares/panels things long. and Im Doing It. bc I love being right and I Really wanna do it#I guess inversely I do write fics in a very... filterless way lmao. I just type shit and its fun for me#honestly if I finish this fic I'd probs put it on tumblr first and then figuring out ao3 posting later#so straight up u guys might get first dib there. but well! comic first always. halfway thru! soon itll be done
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the papers from the bankers say they doubt you’re coming home
So Cleo wins. Of course they win.
—
Scott has a garden. He used to tend it with his own two hands. He doesn’t anymore, but the garden finds its ways of being self-sufficient. It’s not witchcraft; Cleo doesn’t care and Scott drags decay in his wake like a wedding dress train. Gave up, at some point, trying to keep it in check.
That there’s life at all in the garden is nothing short of miraculous, so Scott hauls himself upright and down the stairs every afternoon to see the miracle for himself again. His old lizard-like friend—reanimated after an accident, and then what might have been sabotage, and then what definitely was spite—doesn’t keep names very well these days, but he roams the garden, and seems comfortable enough that Scott finds himself relaxing in his presence.
“Hello,” Scott says, voice rusty from disuse. He doesn’t need to talk much these days—whatever he’s about to say, Cleo reacts just the same, as if they’ve already heard it. “How are you doing?”
His friend flicks his tongue in Scott’s face, and the smell of rot—always there to some degree—intensifies. Scott’s had time to practise, to study. But a dead thing brought back has already split its self with death. There are points past which there is no return.
It could be worse. Scott and death are old lovers these days.
He tells his friend, “I haven’t seen Cleo since… two days ago? Two days ago for me.” Scott coughs. He gets two sentences before his throat gets dry, and if he cared, he’d be sad that this is the improvement. For all her power, it’s no wonder the Supreme Witch had to die eventually.
“Maybe I’ll ask where she went,” Scott laughs.
He won’t. He hasn’t. Nothing touches them out here. Cleo always comes back, swaggering or exhausted or sweet or fearful. Scott and the garden and death stand guard. It has been a long time since she let him fold her into his arms, but maybe Scott’s too hopeful for his own good. Someone, somewhere, keeping watch for her. He can do that while he waits.
—
“Okay. We can try again.”
Scott stumbles into Cleo’s study—library, really; it has long outgrown being a study, but Scott calls it such out of habit and Cleo can adapt—carrying a stack of books, a bundle of charred sticks, and a satchel round with shapes that Cleo is certain are familiar.
“What’d you find this time?” they ask.
“Golden apples. Enchanted ones.” There’s an exhausted gleam to his eye, and fiercer than that, pride. It is uncomfortably recognizable.
Cleo makes mistakes, okay? If their reputation is what it is in this world, it’s only because they’ve had the experience from a hundred prior failures. They don’t catch themself in time.
“Scott—” Cleo starts.
Instantly, Scott’s expression crumples. He recovers fast enough, lips pressing shut and eyes narrowing, but this other half, this ghost he’s carrying around, is like an open wound, and he has none of a time witch’s ability to let things scar over.
“We haven’t even tried,” Scott hisses. “Don’t look at me like that! How—”
It’s only the second time Cleo has seen this turn of events, so it still pierces them, quiet, as precise as if aimed. They shake their head. “It doesn’t work. I—We tried.”
“You’ve done this before? This exact thing?”
“Yes,” Cleo says, and nothing more.
Scars can still ache, and Cleo still feels it, like the remnants of a bad cut tearing from their sternum down to their guts. Despite the scar tissue, she had hoped too. She had forgotten she could hope like that. She had watched Scott retch in the garden afterwards and decided it wasn’t worth it.
“That’s—” Scott drops the supplies with a growl, and in perfect unison, he and Cleo flick their hands to catch everything before it hits the floor. “Did you—”
“Nothing yet,” Cleo interrupts, then winces. If Scott’s magic keeps him sallow and starving-eyed, keeps him a half-dead thing cannibalizing itself, hers layers over her like thin coats of paint. It’s the loneliest thing in the world to watch Scott reach for the book she’d been annotating and know exactly how the motion goes. She flinched, the first couple of times. Now, some wild, living part of her breathes, Catch it. Hold him. Please.
But it’s not Scott Cleo’s after, and it’s not Cleo that Scott’s after.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. We’ll… We’ll try something else.”
“Of course we will.”
Scott smiles as if that’s a new joke, and—Oh, it is, isn’t it? Cleo likes his smile, but it’s the same as being offered a handful of berries when what she wants is a feast.
Cleo has painted over their own past a hundred, a thousand times now. They wonder, quietly, privately, if they’ll know how to give up their time witch powers when this is all done, and worse, they wonder what they’ll be when they can’t.
—
“So,” Scott rasps. “We could test them out. Your new powers.”
They’ve had a total of one night’s sleep over the past four days, collapsed exhausted and shouting on Cleo’s couches as soon as the signal came through that she had won, that it had worked, that Scott’s death hadn’t needed to be permanent for a victor to be declared.
The jubilation seems to have vanished with the sunrise. They’ve woken up too early and are standing in the kitchen in a facsimile of domesticity.
“We could,” Cleo says. Closes their eyes. Spits without looking into one of the buckets on the floor—blood and rotted meat and inky-purple residue. “We… Yes.”
“Does anything… feel different?” Scott keeps his arms crossed; can’t lean on the counter because there’s buckets of offal and basins shimmery with amethyst dust and ugly smears all over. Neither of them have eaten. Neither of them are eating.
“I think I’ve been here before,” Cleo says, quiet, confessional in a way they haven’t been until now. “I had—I have nightmares.”
Scott thinks about making a joke. Looks again at the buckets of blood, and the fact that he stopped going back to his house after a while. Cleo caught him sleeping on their couch the first time and only said, “It’s fine. You can take my bed here if I can take yours at your place.”
“I know,” Scott says.
Cleo looks, briefly, surprised. It sparks some kind of surprise in Scott too. Maybe he shouldn’t be. There is no danger in being surprised once you’re untouchable.
“You too?” they ask.
Scott just nods.
They’re the same thing from two different angles—so they recognize each other, but can do no more than that. He’s thought about reaching over and wiping some of the rusty blood off their mouth. Can’t do it for the same reason he can’t go home yet.
Cleo’s hand comes up, hesitates, goes back to draw her wand and gesture with it. The buckets begin a slow, careful orbit around her. “Let’s clean up first? This place feels disgusting.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Yours.” A wry grin and no hard feelings, just like that.
“The all-powerful Supreme Witch doesn’t have a spell for that?” Scott flutters his fingers. “What do you need me for?”
“It’s better when I’m with you,” Cleo says simply.
They don’t elaborate. Scott doesn’t ask.
—
It’s the same thing from two different directions. Of course they help each other out. Doing favours, owing favours.
Neither of them have named this thing, but each repaid debt has a little extra to it, a leash if you’re cynical, a promise if you’re too hopeful for your own good. They keep count, each separate, private ledger book a see-saw or a double pendulum, tracing out the shape of something others might think to call a type of love.
“That’s cheating,” Scott complains, when Cleo tells him how they’ve learned to loop time and get three times the amount of studying in.
“It’s winning,” Cleo corrects smugly.
Scott scoffs.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” they murmur, teasing-sweet.
“Can you cast it on me too?” he asks. The bags under his eyes have never been just for show.
A different Scott once asked the same question, and the same Cleo agreed until they could both spit curses with as much ease as most people breathed.
The memory of sitting in the same room, up late poring over spell tomes and stepping out onto the balcony to attempt new hexes, is carved into Cleo’s memory.
Similarly carved, though they don’t like reaching for it, is the memory of how the two of them made themselves too dangerous too soon, how the other witches whispered behind their hands about them, how the two of them barricaded Kairos and settled in for a seige.
“They’re just meat,” Cleo had snarled, pacing the room.
Scott’s fingers had twitched. Each word heavy and sure in his mouth, he’d agreed, “They’re just meat.”
That’s the kind of philosophy that causes trouble, that gets you hunted, questioned, locked away. That’s the kind of philosophy that has no room for love.
The same thing from another direction, then.
“Time witches only,” Cleo sing-songs instead, in the here and now.
“I’ll curse you.”
“You won’t.”
The look Scott shoots them is so, so familiar. They’ll get to know that look, and then they’ll forget it. It’s a little scary, how sure they are of this.
“Fine, but can you help me with this? I can’t get it to go the direction I want it to…”
Cleo gets the funniest feeling suddenly, like they’re a child playing with dolls again.
—
Scott gets back home and shuts the front door behind him and puts away his materials all nice and neat in the too-big upstairs and that’s when it hits him.
A time witch. A time witch who hesitated a moment too long before dipping their head in some loose imitation of a bow. A time witch who was still picking glow lichen off their dress, but a time witch nonetheless.
Scott shuts his eyes and is suddenly, viciously glad he agreed to work with them. Fine. So maybe he doesn’t have to win this contest to get what he needs from it. His magic is already rot and horror; what’s a couple more pieces of himself for the meat grinder?
They seemed willing enough to extend a hand toward him. He gets the strangest feeling he would like them even without the competition, without the promise that they’ll help one another. Maybe he hadn’t realized how much he missed having company.
Absurd. Something about the way she looked at him like they already knew each other.
“Better study up on some curses,” Scott murmurs.
—
And so Cleo wins. Of course they do.
#sparrowsong#wcsmp#hey you wanna see me eat drywall?????#this idea (series of ideas?) burrowed directly into my brain and would not come out until i had written the ENTIRE THING in my NOTES APP#i just. time. death. cleo. scott. grief and love and insufficient substitutes. hrghhhhhh i am shaking them around in a glass jar like bugs#might put a nicer version of this on ao3 but that's for later#for now you live with my sentences that are always slightly too long#we all heard it though right?? scott said he was trying to bring someone back and cleo said that's what they're trying to do too??#anyway. can't wait for them to reveal next week that the contest is like. some fun potion brewing puzzles and an obstacle course
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a stranger on a couch - a kollok fanfic
chapter 1 - "a strange man"
summery - when a strange man suddenly appers on mallory's couch, the kollok radar doesn't know what to do about him or someone kicked the driver out of the driver seat and now he is apart of the story he was telling
word count: 1144
This isn’t supposed to be happening
Something is wrong
The story is wrong
What happened
“Hey you awake yet '' Billy said looking down at the strange man lying down on the couch. He had tried snapping his fingers in front of the man but he was still asleep. He walked around the living room frantically wondering what he was supposed to do.
“So none of you guys know who he is, isn’t he what, special like you guys” malloys voice can be heard from the far end of the room, scared at the strange man who just appeared on his couch.
“No he’s not … not every random person has powers like us” mickey said sitting down opposite to the man, she had to go home soon her dad might be worried.
Billy once again snapped his fingers rapidly in front of the man hoping for some kind of response but nothing came.
The man had short blond hair that was brushed to the side and a trimmed beard, he wore a simple black suit with a white shirt and a black tie, his facial features were scarcely similar to Billy's, a bystander would think they were related. He looked to be around his late 20s to early 30s. He was barely alive, but his breathing was irregular.
“What am I supposed to do? I don't have room for one more person” Malloy said, his voice getting shaker with every word said.
“We’ll figure it out” Mickey said, attempting to comfort Malloy, he’s the one that's going to have to deal with it.
“I’m gonna start shaking him!” Billy said walking back towards the man and his hands moving towards his shoulders, micky without missing a second ran up to Billy to hold him back. “Please, how else is he going to wake up”
“I don’t think shaking him would work”
“No, I agree with Billy, we need answers and he will probably give it to us,” Malloy added, wanting to see some results.
Micey, fighting a losing battle, calmly let go of Billy as he rushed towards the man, lifting him up and rapidly shaking him. As Billy kept shaking him, the man's eyes slowly opened up until Billy was satisfied and dropped the man back onto the couch. The man is now fully awake.
“See, I knew it would work,” Billy said, turning towards Mickey with pride in his voice.
The man slowly sat up looking around him, rubbing the back of his head. He glanced at everyone present in the room until his focus was on Billy baker.
“What did you do?” he said, his voice shaking, almost scared towards Billy.
“Hey I didn’t do anything, your the one who just appeared on Malloys couch” billy said defensively
“Roll- '' the man's mouth moved to reply but he stopped himself from saying anything. He moved into a more comfortable position as he wrapped his arms around his body while looking down at the floor as his mouth curled in on itself.
“So um hey, I’m Malloy Jenkins you might have heard of my dad, you seemed to have appeared on my couch” Malloy moved slowly closer towards the man hiding his fear within his voice.
The man kept looking at the floor and back to the people in the room and back at the floor, making no attempts to continue the conversation. He kept trying to move his body back, trying to hide from the curious eyes of the group.
“So … um what's your name?” Malloy continued talking.
Hearing the direct question, the man quickly looked at Malloy, looking surprised at the question. His mouth slowly opened but closed as quickly as it opened.
“I- don’t know” was all the words the man could muster.
“Do you know who you are?” Billy asked, wanting to contribute
“I do but…” the man stopped himself from saying more.
“Man this is too weird, I mean a guy just appeared in my living room” Malloy walked backwards visibly showing how scared he was of the man.
“I got it, what if we give you a name” Billy interjected, killing the silence. This idea had gotten the man’s attention as he looked surprised at Billy's comment.
“I do not need another name billy baker” the last part slipped out of his mouth, as now Malloy’s full attention was back at the man and Billy took a few steps away from the man.
“How do you know my name?” realising his mistake, he looked back down onto the floor struggling to speak.
“It's hard to explain, but I know more then you would think”
“How!?”
“I can’t explain it”
“Don’t worry i’ll believe you” the man's eyebrow raised at Billy's response, curious about Billy's reaction.
Billy has seen a lot of stuff. If anyone was going to believe this strange man it would be Billy or anyone apart of the kollok radar, there was stuff he had never considered to exist until the radar was formed.
“I know what you have been through, all of you, Malloy, MickEy, Embeth, Laura, I am not someone you should be afraid of, I know your story Billy Baker” his words came out like fiction, the group didn’t know what to think, if he was even telling the truth or not. They weren't expecting the man to know their names, Billy took a few steps back and Mickey moved to be next to Billy hovering over him.
“And why should we believe you?” Mickey chimed in, confronting the man in a defensive state, she moved closer to the man almost towering over him, as if Billy and Malloy left the room.
“I understand how you wouldn’t believe me, but please, something is wrong and I need your help” the man begged, he begged to the group. The previous fear from the group changed to confusion, as micky gave the man some room to breath
“Well you came to the right place sir, the Kollok radar is the best help you can get” Malloy said with pride, not understanding how serious this situation is.
“Guys we shouldn’t trust him, not yet” Mickey said, turning towards Malloy, slightly forgetting the man was still in the room.
“I understand how you wouldn’t trust me but please I need help. I don't know who else to go to” the man said with a hint of disgust like the sentence itself was unknown to him, he looked back down at the ground feeling his mouth with his hand.
At this moment Malloy moved towards the man and Mickey took a few steps back, they were speechless. They gave each other a look as micky mumbled something under her breath and pointed to the hallway.
“Excuse us for a moment” Mickey said, the man didn’t have time to respond as they all ran down the hallway.
A.N i had this fanfic in my docs for a while and now that i see that people are actually interested in kollok stuff, why not post it, its not beta read cause we die like men in this house, anyways so the chapter list might be all over the place so please don't mind that i have no idea what i am doing, anyways i will try my best to keep this upload regural but i will try
#kollok#kollok 1991#kollok driver#kollok billy baker#kollok radar#kollok mickey#kollok mallory#fanfiction#fanfics#i might put this on ao3 later i'm not too sure#i'll try to get more confident with posting more fanfics i've made
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*passes out facedown in a puddle of mud with a note in my hand but the only thing the note says when you look at it is just "HAIKYUU" in all caps and underlined eight times*
#(the context is that i think i've figured out How hq as a fandom might have catalyzed the migration of animanga fandom to ao3)#it seems the key is in that it's a sports anime and sports anime have Historically had a slightly higher presence on the site#in its early days when it Really was not for/being used by the weebs lol#like shounen battle manga series n stuff just straight-up migrated over later; i can prove it with number and my elaborate spreadsheet#even younger ones like b//nha or hell even s//nk started out w/a higher proportion of fic posted to ffn at the start#and although they too soon shifted to primarily existing on ao3 the posting ratio to ffn always remains higher than that for hq#literally 99.2% of hq fic exists on ao3; meanwhile ffn still has like a 30% share in s//nk and a 10% share in b//nha#these are Meaningful Differences; esp in regards to s//nk since its fandom was born at around the same time as free n hq#older and more weeby fandoms like na//ruto heta//lia and fai//ry tail didn't shift over until like 2018#i'd put money on the fact that this is influenced by the rise of b//nha which settled into ao3 earlier on in its life thanks to#older anime like s//nk and hq paving the way for anime fans to become familiar with the site#anyway then b//nha like Literally became the next naru//to and so that's why we're all on ao3 now! bc of SPORTS ANIME.#花話
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Fanfiction Authors: HEADS UP
(Non-authors, please RB to signal boost to your author friends!)
An astute reader informed me this morning that one of my fics (Children of the Future Age) had been pirated and was being sold as a novel on Amazon:
(And they weren't even creative with their cover design. If you're going to pirate something that I spent a full year of my life writing, at least give me a pretty screenshot to brag about later. Seriously.)
I promptly filed a DMCA complaint to have it removed, but I checked out the company that put it up -- Plush Books -- and it looks like A LOT of their books are pirated fic. They are by no means the only ones doing this, either -- the fact that """publishers""" can download stories from AO3 in ebook format and then reupload them to Amazon in just a few clicks makes fic piracy a common problem. There are a whole host of reasons why letting this continue is bad -- including actual legal risk to fanfiction archives -- but basically:
IF YOU ARE A FANFIC AUTHOR WITH LONG AND/OR POPULAR WORKS, PLEASE CHECK AMAZON TO SEE IF YOUR STORIES HAVE BEEN PIRATED.
You can search for your fics by title, or by text from the description (which is often just copied wholesale from AO3 as well). If you find that someone has stolen your work and is selling it as their own, you can lodge a DMCA complaint (Amazon.com/USA site; other countries have different systems). If you haven't done this before, it's easy! Here's a tutorial:
HOW TO FILE A COPYRIGHT COMPLAINT FOR STOLEN WORK ON AMAZON.COM:
First, go to this form. You'll need to be signed into your Amazon account.
Select the radio buttons/dropdown options (shown below) to indicate that you are the legal Rights Owner, you have a copyright concern, and it is about a pirated product.
Enter the name of your story in the Name of Brand field.
In the Link to the Copyrighted Work box, enter a link to the story on AO3 or whatever site your work is posted on.
In the Additional Information box, explain that you are the author of the work and it is being sold without your permission. That's all you really need. If you want, you can include additional information that might be helpful in establishing the validity of your claim, but you don't have to go into great detail. You can simply write something like this:
I am the author of this work, which is being sold by [publisher] without my permission. I originally published this story in [date/year] on [name of site], and have provided a link to the original above. On request, I can provide documentation proving that I am the owner of the account that originally posted this story.
In the ASIN/ISBN-10 field, copy and paste the ID number from the pirated copy's URL. You'll find this ten-digit number in the Amazon URL after the word "product," as in the screenshot below. (If the URL extends beyond this number, you can ignore everything from the question mark on.) Once this number has been added, Amazon will pull the product information automatically and add it to the complaint form, so you can check the listing title and make sure it's correct.
Finally, add your contact information to the relevant fields, check the "I have read and accept the statements" box, and then click Submit. You should receive an email confirmation that Amazon has received the form.
Please share this information with your writer friends, keep an eye out for/report pirated works, and help us keep fanfiction free and legally protected!
NOTE: All of the above also applies to Amazon products featuring stolen artwork, etc., so fan artists should check too!
#fanfiction#ao3#piracy#dmca#pirated fanfic#please signal boost#i'm mad but also laughing that my dmc fanfic is now a 'number one best selling novel' lol#i'm also a traditionally-published author#so this is both hilarious and deeply insulting to me
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So. I've written a slightly crack fic dethklok x our flag crossover one shot (Dethklok in the Our Flag universe in this case)
I can't decide if I should publish this one, if I do it just on here, or here and ao3 lol
#text post#it's primarily Izzy being like. lead customer service rep showing them around the ship their first night there#on a 'cruise' charles is paying stede and crew to take the band on#aka charles asked stede abt this in a random interaction at the dock at the republic of pirates and mentioned the band being wealthy#and stede may have his moments (don't we all) but he's not stupid in that way so he's like fuck yeah we do 'cruises' sure#and Izzy has little flirtations and even sweet/silly conversations with each of them before grouping them in the galley#for general band wrangling purposes but also#bc the crew is putting together a celebration of Calypso's bday to show the band the sort of party bard rockstars might be expecting lol#it's probably a little too silly/stupid but. idk I think it's cute lol#if you'd actually read this and want it published somewhere give this a like and I'll push myself to be brave and get it on ao3#before the end of today (being today the 25th bc it's nearly three am and I haven't slept yet so. later today i could publish it)
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unearthed a fanfic from like 2k21 (will check that unlike last time) and i think its worse than the straight agent 24 fic...it has like 10 chapters and its a school story abt these random ocs i had 😭
#read my shark river high fic its the better oc school story + chapter 2 is almost done ✨#cxlliefxn talks abt stuff 💕✨#I ALSO MADE THE OCS IN MEBUIKA MIGHT POST EM LATER THE MAIN BOY IS UGLY LMAOOOOO#ofc the mc is a tsundere why was i so obsessed with them 😭#THERE'S THE ASTERISKS TOO LMAO#theres too my chapters to put it on ao3 today tho#rxsh's silly fanfic updates 💗#<- technically
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Just found out (should have known) that if I needed to go on disability (short term or otherwise) now or after my job ends I would not qualify bc I’m being paid under the table. Knew this abt unemployment but 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲 everyone please advocate for yourselves and inform yourselves in the workplace and don’t accept illegal pay if you can help it. Not having to file taxes is not a benefit. You’re being screwed over.
#big ol car accident yesterday#I don’t have a concussion but I think I may have had some kind of minor brain injury#or maybe it’s just the trauma sneaking in since I like had no emotional reaction to the event#my brain is too good at delaying emotional responses I swear#but now I feel like doom doom doom doom doom dread dread dread dread dread dread etc#why does so much shit have to happen at once and RIGHT when I am like feeling a little more optimistic#and like have good things in my personal life#it’s so fucking ???? like of course#of course I’m not allowed to have this without that too#the world gives me [the power of being so fond of someone] and then it hits me with a truck#ok universe jesus I get it#lmao#I’m afraid to post vents here now that I’m ??? famous????? whehhdbsbe#f&c has been great for my notes here & on ao3#I hope I don’t disappoint y’all#feeling pretty weird (bad) abt Simon rn I’m just. I’m just putting off thinking abt that lmao#ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggh#anyway I’m afraid but I’m still impulsive so y’know what can ya do#might delete later who knows I am impulsive#vent ish#personal ish#I do believe the family I work for probably doenst realize how shitty this is for me but#I genuinely didn’t even realize until this year bc the year before I’d started too recently to have made enough to need to pay taxes#(if that makes sense)#so i didn’t realize they didn’t claim me and then thought I was an independent contractor maybe but then found out I’m a household employee#which is obvious now but I didn’t know shit#idk I don’t think they knew but I also don’t think they care that much either :/#*knew the extent of how shitty this is for me
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jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)
hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤
a- angst s- smut f-fluff
series
dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a
↬ DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.
block party by @minlucent f s a
↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l
a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg
↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it?
lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a
↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l
secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a
↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au
i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a
↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you.
fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth
↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller
pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s
↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l
animal by @cutaepatootie f s a
↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST
things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a
↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.
entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth
↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.
when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a
↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?
new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a
↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?
horizon by @/sokooks f s a
↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au
searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a
↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.
twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a
↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.
when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a
↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on
better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a
↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him
our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7
↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au
dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a
↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au
together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm
↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au
hot bot by @/httpjeon f s
↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.
stardust by @iamtaekooked f
↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his
serendipity by @rohobi f s a
↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.
chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a
↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.
I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a
↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au
sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a
↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.
three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin
↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au
sleepwalking by @taexual f s a
↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a
↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury.
OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.
as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a
↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”
hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a
↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a
↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.
J’aime by @baepop f s a
↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.
Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth
↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend
make me forget by @roseannekook f s a
↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.
one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm
↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song
boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a
↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc
the boy who left by @/gujoonim a
↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au
love sewn by @jvnghxope s a
↬ You��ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.
not yet by f s @bratkook f s a
↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.
one shot
blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a
↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au
southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a
↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.
house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a
↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.
enouement by @littlemisskookie s a
↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au
miss taken by @junghelioseok f s
↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l
the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a
↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.
the proposal by @hansolmates f s a
↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l
red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s
↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money.
burning bright by @snackhobi s
↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim
but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a
↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.
the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj
↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need.
illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a
↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.
the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a
↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au
rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a
↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.
lowkey by @joonbird s
↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.
part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a
↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.
sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a
↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'
i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj
↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man.
white lies by @noteguk f s a
↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you.
yes coach by @/taleanewastime s
↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.
spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s
↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.
fifth wish by @jiminrings f a
↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.
blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth
↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.
↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library
#kiki!fic!rec#moon's recs#jungkook#jungkook:oneshot#jungkook:series#jungkook:smut#jungkook:angst#jungkook:fluff#favourites!jjk#jungkook fanfiction#bts fanfiction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook fic recs#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook series#moonchild1#jungkook scenarios#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook
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Making you a mother
Laois x Fem!Reader
!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!
A/N: this is a request from AO3!! Short but sweet ^^
warnings: big breeding kink, reader gets pregnant, Laois is really insistent on filling you up with his cum, biting, overstimulation
Laois held onto your hips, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulled you close to rub his bulge against your needy pussy. “You’re so pretty…”
His eyes were slightly hazy with lust, and you couldn’t help but whine, rubbing against him desperately. “P-please, Laois! I need it!”
The feeling of his calloused fingers tracing over your belly made you shiver in anticipation. Lately, you had noticed how focused on making sure you were well fed he was, along with fascinated with your tummy.
“Gonna…” he murmured, his fingers pressing down on the fatty part of your belly that protected your uterus. “gonna put a baby there, okay? Gonna…”
Your cheeks flushed with heat, the wet spot in your panties growing. Laois had never talked like that before, you didn’t even think he wanted children…
His thumb rubbed against your clothed clit as his lips pressed against your neck. “You want it? Want me to make you a mommy?”
“P-please…” you managed to choke out through your whimpers and panting. “Need it so bad!”
“Anything for you, sunshine…”
He pulled off your underwear, his cock rubbing against your dripping pussy. Usually he was insistent on eating you out, but today he desperately needed to fill you up with his cum. Laois needed to breed you more than he needed to breathe air.
He pushed in, groaning against your neck as your pussy clenched around him, eager to drain him of all his cum from the get go. “That’s my baby, gonna fill you up, promise…”
Laois fucked into you, biting down on your neck hard enough to have you yelp. But the pain ebbed away into pleasure, and his teeth were replaced with his lips, kissing away at the red mark.
“Sorry, love… can’t help it…”
He was hitting that special spot, making you cry out his name. “L-Laois, please don’t stop!”
Your nails dug into the soft flesh of his back, making him let out a sharp hiss. “Won’t, I promise…”
And he was right. Even hours later, when you were beyond exhausted and stuffed full of cum, he was still hitting that special spot, making you cum on his cock over and over.
“T-too much…” you were being fucked stupid, barely able to speak.
“Shh, you can take it. Gotta make sure it takes…”
He lightly pressed down on your belly, making his cum squirt out of you. Laois pouted a little.
“Looks like I’ll have to go again…”
———————
A few months later, you sat with Marcille as she fawned over your baby bump. “Oh, I can’t wait to be an Aunt! Do you think the baby will call me Auntie Marcille?”
You laughed, glancing at Laois as Falin and him watched the two of you through the doorway. “Probably. Marcille might be a mouthful for a baby though.”
“What about Marcy!?”
Laois and Falin cracked up, causing the blonde elf to blush. “W-what are you two laughing at?”
“Nothing… it just seems like you’re more eager for the baby to come than (Name) and I are.” Laois said, taking you into his arms. His hand brushed over your belly, his thumb rubbing against the bump softly.
Falin smiled warmly. “I think we’re all excited. Senshi has already started mapping out a meal plan for (Name)’s pregnancy.”
“Haha, he said he’ll teach the baby everything he knows, and Chilchuck is already giving me advice,” you said, laughing. “It’s sweet, you know they say raising a child takes a village… you guys are our village.”
Marcille started crying, hugging you. “Oh stop it, I’m going to cry!”
“Dear, you’re already crying.” Falin replied, kissing the top of her head.
You and Laois shared a kiss before he led you away by the hand. “Sorry ladies, but my wife needs a nap.”
Laois curled up next to you in bed, his face nuzzled into your neck. “Rest, my love.”
And you did, curled up with your beloved.
#laois x reader#laois touden#laois dungeon meshi#requests open#x reader#anime x reader#reader insert#smut requests#anime x chubby reader#chubby!reader#chubby reader#female reader#fem!reader#fem reader#smut fanfiction#x reader smut#laois smut#dungeon meshi smut#dungeon meshi laios#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon smut#delicious in dungeon#imagines#laois x you#laois x y/n#smut fic
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miss sunshine
pre-outbreak Joel Miller x neighbor!reader [7.3k]
summary: He's always been out of reach. A fantasy. Joel was too much of everything—too handsome, too friendly, too una-fucking-vailable for any of you. Too bad his kid adores you. (What a blessing.) Too bad she uses you as a scapegoat and lands him right on his door. One bottle of wine, and Joel shows you he might be closer than you thought.
📝 I wanted to try something different. Less hurt, less end-of-the-world bullshit. Let me know your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated.
⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex, oral (f and m receiving), riding, missionary, passionate neighbors sex, yay.
read on ao3 | masterlist
ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Summer of 2002.
When the bell rings, you think it's best to ignore it.
Living alone equals a lot of privileges, but the ability to go out alone and answer the door on a random Wednesday evening was not one of them. You're wearing compromising clothes and a robe, the bottle of wine you craved was finally open, and the last thing you wanted was to be murdered before enjoying it.
Then, you hear it. Your name, followed by, "It's Miller. Joel."
Fuck.
Well—this is exactly how many of your dreams started. Although this wouldn't go like them, for him, you'd open the door.
His eyes do little to hide the once-over when the door slides open.
They go down, then back up, and he seems to catch on to the fact that you saw it. Then, he shakes his head just a little, and says, "Is Sarah here?"
Well, well, well. You lean against the door. "Did she say she was?"
Joel pierces you with his Dad Look. "Yes." Obviously, it goes without saying.
What other reason would he have, right? Clearing your throat, you feel the anxiety bubbling underneath the surface. "Uhm. She isn't," you look apologetic as you say it. As if it's your fault his prepubescent daughter uses you as a scapegoat.
His sigh is enough to make you feel how tired he is. Overworked. Exhausted.
You try to understand what might've happened before he loses his mind, "What time d'you usually come back from work? Maybe she's at a friend's. She probably thought you'd be back later than this."
He finishes rubbing both palms all over his face, and he threads one hand through his hair. "I'm usually back at nine—well, I'm supposed to be back at nine. I'm usually home by ten." That checks out, then. "But—that doesn't explain why she lied to me."
"Any special occasions coming up soon?"
Joel frowns. "Uhm. My birthday's in a few days, but—"
"Ahhhh." It shuts his mouth, the way you exclaim it so clearly. "She's brainstorming, Joel."
"Brainstorming...?"
"A gift." No daughter had easy access to what made their fathers happy. You take pity on him. "C'mon—let me scare the little one."
You walk inside without waiting for his reply, knowing Joel will make his way in. "What d'you mean, scare her?"
The noise of his boots hitting the floor makes you happy.
You take the phone out of the wall and look at him. "She always keeps that cellular phone with her when she goes out?"
"Always," he nods.
"Perfect." You know it by heart already. As you dial, you feel Joel's eyes on your house. It's the first he's ever been inside, and it makes you hyperaware of every movement of his. "It's ringing," you inform him with a grin forming.
He looks confused. More tired than anything else, but it'll make sense in a second.
"Hey, miss Sunshine!" the nickname she gave you always brings a smile to your face.
Time to put on a show. Feigning panic in your voice, you yell-whisper on the phone, "S, love, would you mind telling me why on Earth is your pops—" you fake cover your end of the line to yell, "one minute!" then you're back at whispering again, "why is he parked outside my house right now? Is there something I should know?"
"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit—"
You're glad he can't hear her end of it. "No time for panic. Explain."
"I am so sorry, Sunny! I thought he'd be back in like, two hours or something. Oh, god, can you please cover for me? I wrote a note saying I was at your place. Sleeping there. I was gonna call you before he came back home but Jenny and I—"
"You're at somebody named Jenny?" you repeat the information, looking at Joel with a question in your eyes, and when he nods, your heart soothes at knowing she's safe. "And you didn't think to mention your brilliant idea earlier?" going for the full effect again, you yell out, "One minute, Joel!"
At least she's fast in her rambles. "Yeah, yeah. My best friend. She's trying to help me come up with a surprise for him. I'm not there often and it's never on his birthday. I wanna make it special."
"Okay. Cool. Next time, fill me in as you make the plans."
"I will, I promise. Pinky promise. You think you can convince him I'm sleeping there?" the plea in her voice is adorable.
You chuckle. "I've got you, S." Joel sighs in relief in front of you. "Just one thing."
"Yeah?"
"Be back here tomorrow first thing in the morning. 7:30 sharp. I'm gonna invite your dad for breakfast, as punishment for your lack of planning, and you'll be the one making us the pancakes," before she can even answer, you go, "Toodles!" and hang up.
When you put your phone back at the base, you turn around with a proud smile.
Joel's looking at you funny. "You're good at that," he says.
"At what? Acting?" you laugh when nods. "I was a trouble child. I'm great at lying."
"Aren't those the same?"
"Eh. A thin line separates them." You can sense his awkwardness creeping up, so you do your best to think on the spot. "Is she one to escape?"
"Not really, no." He's shuffling on his feet, uncertain of what to do in your home. "She's never done this before."
"From what she told me, she's never around for your birthday."
"That's true."
"She wants to make a surprise for you," you inform. It puts that smile on his face that makes your knees a little weak. "And now she has to be back here at seven in the morning. All is well."
He laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."
He's gonna see himself out. You swallow all the nervousness that being in his presence creates and just... goes for it. "Is it hard? Having a kid?"
That relaxes some of the tension in his shoulders. He leans on the counter of your kitchen and shakes his head. "Not really. It's a lot of work, but it's not hard. It's rewarding."
I wish my mother felt the same. You smile at the truth in his words. "I can see it's hard work." He laughs again. "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell," you point at the Pinot on top of the counter. "Want a glass? Unless you tell me you're 'only beer' kind of guy, then I can't help ya."
Joel looks between you and the bottle a couple of times, then looks down at himself. "I'm uh—I'm all greasy and gross from work. You sure that's the company you want for wine?"
Rolling your eyes, you walk towards your glasses cabinets. "If I told you that you can go home and shower, you'd never come back."
"And that'd be a bad thing?"
"Sure it would. You're the only person in this entire street that hasn't interrogated me on my life so far, I feel left out. Offended, even," you add with a dramatic twist. Your robe flows around you, and you can't help but smile when you see his eyes following you.
It's the way he swallows visibly, almost audibly, that plants a seed of maybe inside your head. "I'm not usually one to pry."
You place both glasses on the counter. "Neither am I."
"I know. It's why I like ya," Joel says it with eyes on the glasses instead of you. "That and the way you talk to the plants."
Your hand on the corkscrew stops, and you want to slam your forehead against the wood. "Oh, god."
His laughter is so nice. "Nah, don't be embarrassed. 's why I gave you your nickname."
"Don't be embarrassed? That's mortifying, Joel. I thought no one—wait." Had you heard him right? "What d'you mean you gave me my nickname?"
Joel's head tilts, and he's definitely a charmer kind of guy. If you do have a chance, you might be fucked. "Your nickname."
"Miss Sunshine?" He nods. "I thought that was Sarah."
"No, Sarah used it first in front of you," he pulls one of the glasses closer to him. "I said it first."
Well... that made it just as special but in a different way. You pour the wine into both glasses. "Good to know. I was under the impression she was the creative genius in the household—I just. Quick question that I never asked her: Why?"
"'Cause every mornin' before I left for work you're there on that big window," he points at the glass window that's occupies ceiling to floor, the very reason you picked this house, "talking to your plants as if you're the sun itself waking them up. 's cute."
Cute. You hate how he has the ability to make you blush. What is this, fucking high school?
"That makes sense."
Joel wipes his palms on the side of his t-shirt and then looks up at you. "If I go home with the promise of comin' back, will you let me shower?"
Let me. You're thankful your arms are covered because you're unsure of what this man is capable of when he knows the effect he has on somebody.
"I'll let you," you answer.
Joel nods and his smile is so genuine that you wonder why you never tried before.
"'kay," he takes one sip of the wine, hums in approval, and then takes a deep breath. "'m gonna go. I'll be back to interrogate you."
"I'll leave the door open."
"No—Jesus bloody Christ, are you and Sarah mad? Lock the door, Sunshine." You like it so much when he's the one that says it. "I'm serious."
"Alright, jeez," you laugh.
It's less tense than you imagined as he puts his shoes back on and walks out of your door. Joel crosses the street with a little wave in your direction, and all you can think is—what on Earth am I gonna do to him?
When he's back, Joel smells so good it's intoxicating.
It makes your brain melt.
Minty and fresh. That's what his stuff smells like, and you know the idea of that scent's now painted on the walls of your brain.
He does that stupid little dad pose, widening both arms and lifting them up in a display of 'what do you think' before walking in.
It makes you want to push him against the wall, but you do your best at behaving.
For now.
"Brand new man?" you ask.
He points at his glass of wine, untouched since the moment he left. "Will be in a sec."
You wait for him to take a sip before extending him what you held in your hand before he arrived.
Joel eyed the cigarette and, thank fuck, there was none of the annoying judgment sometimes people carried. He stops his movement to sit on the stool and asks, "You smoke in here, or are we goin' outside?"
"There's a table there. Weather's nice. D'you mind?"
Joel grabs his glass, shaking his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Lead the way."
"Ma'am," you echo him, sounding disgusted. He laughs behind you, "Who am I, Mrs. Adler?"
Still laughing, Joel answers, "Nah. Too talkative for that."
You turn around with your mouth hanging open, trying very little to look offended. "I beg your pardon. We never spoke for longer than, what, five minutes?"
Joel shrugs his shoulders. His smile is as intoxicating as his presence. "I hear things."
"You hear things?" you ask, pushing open the door that leads outside.
"I do," he sips his wine, looking to the small terrace where your little table is. "My daughter's a gossiper, little Sunshine. I think y'should know that."
Little Sunshine. Goddamn this man.
"Should I be scared, here? I haven't even told her anything, but I feel like I should be."
"If you didn't tell her anythin', than why would you be?"
"Because!" you laugh, feeling just a little out of your depth with his smoothness. You expected more closeness from Joel. Less teasing, easy banter. "You're talking like someone who knows a lot, that's all."
"And I do," he says, sounding every bit as serious.
You sit down on one of the chairs — your chair, precisely — and watch as Joel walks around a little, taking in the environment. He adds, "Did ya know," pausing for a dramatic effect, he sips again, "that in all of three months, you became one of my daughters' favorite people?"
He pins you under his gaze.
You cross your legs, and watch happily as his gaze drops to the motion.
"Did I?" if you sip at his pace, you'll be throwing yourself on his lap in an embarrassing amount of time.
Joel nods behind his cup, touching one of the many plants that cover your backyard area from floor, to walls, to ceiling. "You did," he smiles, dropping the fake seriousness. "Are you ready to deal with the six months absence? 'Cause from personal experience," he points both hands at his chest, "you try convincing yourself you won't miss her all that much 'cause, y'know, it's "just" a girl, but—fuck," he spits the last word, smiling widening around the fact. "She's so cool to have around. You'll see. Your phone's bill's about to create life."
It grounds you.
The way Joel speaks of Sarah makes you feel comfortable sitting here, and any doubts you had are sucked by the green life around you and returned as oxygen.
Joel talks about anything, no reservations.
In his absence, you doubted whether this could be any different than most times.
Would Joel be like that—like any of those other guys?
He wasn't.
Joel, as much as you hated to admit it, was an exception.
Maybe these things were fated. Simple chemistry. Similar mindsets. Whatever it was—you had it every once in a blue moon.
Your expectations settings were long ago molded to expect the least, and it takes only half a bottle of wine for you to notice the need to rear it in.
He's so damn easy. Joel goes from one topic to another like he's interested. He answers your questions with full interest, sometimes going on tangent stories, and he's the one who keeps the glasses filled.
Attentive, you take note the second time that happens. Before any of the glasses got empty, he served you both.
He compliments your taste in music and sounds genuine about it.
The weird silences you most dreaded never happen—if he's not answering you, Joel asks things. Interesting things, unlike any other neighbor.
"Was it you who decorated your place inside? 'Cause, there are very specific things in there. And you seem like the type to know what you like."
Joel was very attentive.
He asked, "and is this what you like to do with your free time?" pointing at the books you put away when you both arrived, "Drink wine, read, talk to your plants?"
"I still can't believe you've seen me doing that."
He laughed at that. "It's a pretty big window, Sunshine. Jesus Christ—you don't lock the door, you don't know people can see through your gigantic-ass window—I'm genuinely starin' to get worried here."
"Okay, first of all, I do lock my door."
"Do you?"
"'Course. Most days."
"Oh my—"
"—and! Now that I was reminded of my window's size, I'll consider buying drapes. Long, white ones. That'd be cool."
It was easy.
Talking to Joel—sharing a table with him, a glass of wine—so easy.
He never looked uncomfortable. Even if he moved a lot, Joel looked good—so damn good you lost focus every now and then—, but good with himself.
In his skin.
That was intoxicating.
When he does more than just talk and asks things; it's almost too damn easy. Was time supposed to go this way?
The first bottle end, but it's too soon.
You know it. He knows it—plays with it, in fact. Waves the empty bottle after pouring it for you and him in the air very lightly then places it on the floor.
Offering another one is almost a visceral reaction.
You don't have the same finesse he does, or at least, you think not, but if his smiles and closing proximity are anything to go by, he's enjoying himself as much as you are. "I dance around opening these a lot," you say pointing at the empty bottle. Pulling your legs closer to yourself despite the voice of your mother telling you that's a body language sign of insecurity—fuck insecurity. "Don't wanna be the wine lady on top of the plant one. But they're good. I like it."
"I only drink wine when my brother cooks," he offers.
The glass in your hands makes you feel safe enough to land this conversation where you want it. "Really? He cooks a lot?"
"More than me," Joel confesses with a shrug. "He likes to match the wine to the dish and that type o' stuff."
"I was taught how to be picky, but if I'm being honest—" you like the way Joel leans in closer when you pause it. You smile, "it's all just grapes tastin' really, really good." The sound of his damn laugh. This man's gotta have a flaw, you think. "As long as it's wine, I'm happy."
"I think that about a good beer after a day of work."
"We're all just trying to give ourselves little positive reinforcements for playing nice at doing our jobs, huh?"
Joel pauses at that. Lifts his eyebrows, then bursts out laughing. "Oh, wow—"
"Oh god", while it took you a lot of alcohol to get drunk, being open-mouthed about weird things came with the territory of feeling comfortable.
Joel made you comfortable, even if you were mortified at how amused he was.
When he's done laughing, he looks at you. "That's cute. You're the philosophical type."
"Isn't everybody who enjoys wine?"
"I don't know. I enjoy wine and I'm not one to go that far, I think."
"Hmm. Philosophizing can involve different topics. Lenses."
Joel wolf whistles. "Well, I think I'd need a couple more glasses to unlock that side of me."
"Not a problem," you get up, and resist the urge to wink at him. "I'll be back."
Your reflection in the kitchen mirrors is the confirmation of how fucked exactly you are.
It's more than just the color on your cheeks—it's the glassy screen over your eyes, making it shine like...
Well, very few times.
Fuck, you think.
Maybe that's why your palms are sweating.
He's more than you bargained for—Joel's looks were hard to move on from, but this?
Once in Rome...
Fuck it.
It's not as if either one of you was blinded to what a moonlight late-night conversation leads to.
The air outside could be felt.
When you're going back with the opened bottle, another pin drops in your mind.
He has the whole night free.
You don't break the bottle, but it's a close call.
Joel asks you the second you're back, "I have a depressing confession to make—I was tryin' to keep to it to myself, but honestly, it's all I taught about when you left."
You place the bottle in the middle of the table carefully and sit back down with your eyes on him.
He moved his chair closer again.
"Do share," you urge.
Joel looks around the yard—he seems to do it a lot when he's dipping his toes into personal places and says, "This is the first time in a—uh—I don't even know. A while. That I just... sat with another adult. Drank something nice. Talked about more than just—fucking politics, or whatever." Joel's eyes on you make you feel honored. You know he'd say that's a silly thought if you said it out loud. "It's really nice. And—the depressing part comes in now: I'm only here 'cause of my brother."
You tilted your hair. "You're here because... of Tommy?" you tried connecting those dots, but came up short.
Thankfully, Joel was here. With his smile, and his explanation.
"You see, before Sarah's mom and I decided she could spend some months here instead of just a few weekends, I was already... shutting in. His words, not mine," Joel picks up his glass for a sip, and you hang onto every word he says. "So when she came, he took me out one night. That little bar a few blocks from here—y'know Mr. O'Donovan's place?" when you shake your head, he waves a hand, "I'll take you someday—'s the only place around here that's worth a dime."
"I'll take your word for it." I hate bars. You'd go for him. With him.
"I think I know what beer you'd like," it comes off as a whisper, and you have to hide behind your glass again. "I only remember that talk because he made me promise. He's not one to ask for promises."
"What did he make you promise?"
"He was upset 'cause I kept turnin' him down every time he wanted to do his 'meet my friend and you'll be good friends' match-making shit, so he said, 'you promise that the next time someone invites you do somethin' you actually wanna do, you're not gonna turn 'em down? You'll actually fucking go, without makin' excuses to yourself'. And that sounded fair. So I promised."
You take note of the effort he's making.
The subtle 'this isn't just about what's about to happen'.
'I'll take you someday'.
'Next time someone invites you to do somethin' you actually wanna do'.
So more than just neighbors. You nod at that, smiling at him. "He seems like a good brother," you say. "Siblings can be a pain in the ass."
Joel stops his glass on the way to his lip to shake his head at you, "Oh, no no," he takes the sip first, and says, "one doesn't negate the other. He very much is a pain in my ass, trust me."
You laugh. "Older and younger?"
"Younger," he nods. "I had a lil' bit of peace here and there before he was born."
"Can't imagine you'd have it any other way nowadays."
He agrees with you.
When he doesn't, Joel scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.
He does silly faces. You wonder if he's aware of how unfair it is that he gets to look like that. Tender. Charming.
He proves your theory to be right with only half another bottle.
Put two or more adults plus a certain amount of alcohol in a closed environment, and sex will be on the table.
It makes you blush when you think... it could literally be on the table.
Joel pretends he doesn't see you growing hotter. He keeps his eyes on you as you take off the robe instead of looking at your arms. Listens to what you're saying without losing focus.
Only when you're done and asking him something in response that he looks.
It makes your throat dry when he does.
Joel has an unabashed, almost cocky tilt to his mannerisms.
You thought he'd be quieter than he is—more serious.
It's a welcomed contrast.
When sex is laid on the table, it comes because he brought up the joke you made at the beginning of the night about his lack of interest in your life, and decided to ask you things. Where you grew up. If you were always like this.
"Define 'like this'."
"Smart with the calculating glance, and sweet-talking."
"Is that me?"
"Sure is, Sunshine."
None of the questions that people usually ask.
It makes you bite your lip more than you wished—his manly, tall presence gets under your skin in ways that no previous partner managed to. Tucking your hair behind your ear, avoiding leading the conversation to the exact places you liked, giggling—those weren't things you did.
He pulled them from you.
When he does ask you the 'usual' questions, it lacks the malicious curiosity inflating others whenever they did.
Sex is laid on the table because Joel looks you in the eyes with that easiness in his shoulders and asks, "I'm not as private as you, though—all of my neighbors already know Tommy, and Sarah. You, on the other hand... the mysterious crime and horror novelist, who talks to her plants and moved from so, so far. I might not be the prying type, but I was curious about you long before my gremlin set her little claws on you. How come I never see anyone coming in or out of here? You tellin' me not one friend of yours followed you here to god-forsaken Texas?"
Your glass is almost empty, and you focus on the twirling of the red inside it to avert your mind from the way he's sitting. "The point of moving was getting away from them. All of them, as bad as that sounds," you cover your eyes with your free hand, and Joel's hand touches your forearm.
"Hey—it's fine. Don't feel bad. 'm happy you had the privilege of gettin' away. If you wanted to move away from all of it, I'm sure you had your reasons."
Looking between your fingers, you try appraising his face. "Really?"
"Really," he nods.
"Okay." You sit up straight. "And I do have people over, sometimes. You're just always at work."
"Yeah? You made friends already?"
"A few, yeah."
"Where?" he removes his hand from your forearm but drops it to your chair's armrest. The proximity is doing something to you. "I thought you worked from home."
"I do," you agree. "But I do other stuff. I'm not always here with my plants, Joel," you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly.
Joel laughs, "I wouldn't know. If I could work from home and stay with my tools and wood, I would."
"And I believe you," you nodded.
He bites on his smile before asking. "What other stuff d'you do?"
"I joined a book club," you reply, feeling all levels of boring.
From his look, he disagrees. "You got the patience for that?"
"Sure do," you nod again.
He nods, pouting in awe. "Nice," he says. "Are your book club friends givin' you the right impression of Texans?"
"I'm warming up to them," you smile.
Nodding, he asks, "Should I ask now the questions all my neighbors already know the answer to? 'Cause I am curious. Did you know Mr. Adler tried tellin' me what he 'discovered' about you? He tried looking blasé when he said that, but I'm sure he just wanted to gossip about the pretty girl who moved across from him."
"Ew, Joel," you laugh.
His eyes never leave you—you feel it even when you're not looking at him. He's laughing too. "What? It's true."
When you look back up at him, you wonder—when did you two get this close?
"You can ask," you say. "It's not that exciting, the answer. Actually, it's not exciting at all."
"Hmm, I'll be the judge of that," he sips his wine, and leaves the glass on the table. "You already know my backstory, so kill my curiosity now," he pierces with his eyes for a moment, "how on Earth is there no ring on this finger?" he points to your ring finger, then he leans in closer, and you can smell the wine in his breath; you want to kiss it until it's taste is gone, "and how is it that I never see anyone leaving here early in the mornings?"
Well. "No ring 'cause I didn't want one so far," you reply. To him, you give more honesty than anyone else who's asked. "And I have the luxury of living without it. I know many friends of mine who don't—and actually, that was part of..." don't go there. "Nevermind," you shake your head, pinning yourself to here.
"You just didn't want it?" he echos.
You nod, "Never did," there's no reason to lie to him. He smells so good—why would you lie to him? "Most men bore men, Joel."
"Wow," the smile that widens is a little baffled. A little dirty. "Should I be scared?"
At that, you burst out laughing. "Really?" You have no clocks outside, but the starry sky and the deep silence in the houses next to you are a good enough indicator. "It's been... a couple of hours, at least. We're one bottle and a half," you say, looking at your glasses shining on the table, "deep into conversation... and you wonder if you should be scared?"
Joel's still looking at you when you look back. His arm is around your chair, and your back touches it when you lean back against it. "I'll take that as a no."
"You are very far from boring."
"'m happy you think so," he smiles. He lets his eyes drop to your lips, without a care for the two palms of distance that separate your faces. It's meant to be blatant. Obvious. "Just another question..."
Here it comes, you thought. Why no kids? Why so alone? Do you feel lonely?
"Why me?" he asks.
It's nothing more than a breath.
You could ignore it. Give any answer, and close the gap. Instead, you give him honesty. "Honestly? I was so attracted to you, the second I saw you, that I was willing to even hear somethin' stupid coming out of your mouth if I could just—," do it, do it, do it. Seeing his eyes darken from up close is torture. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat between your legs. "Now, if I were any smart, I'd be wishing for you to be bad at all the rest, because..."
This was amazing already.
Joel laughs, just a single, breathy laugh, and then does something you would never see it coming.
He pushes his chair back with the weight of his hips and drops to his knees.
The gasp you let out is enough to put the most insufferable smile on his face.
"Don't say that," he feigns hurt, as if he wasn't smiling with his eyes and lips. "It might've been a while, but I don't think I lost my touch just yet."
Joel's hands envelop your knees and slowly pull them apart. You feel like an open wire—aware of every breath your body takes and each minimum reaction to him.
You feel the wet pulse inside your panties when he kisses the skin of your inner thigh, right above your knee.
Joel smiles up at you, blinking his eyes.
Damn him, you think. His hands caress their way up your skin, and you wished you were naked already.
He seems like someone to enjoy the torture—when his hands reach the curve of your ass, they stop there, holding onto your waist.
"Have I?" he asks, kissing the other inner leg. You feel a hint of his tongue in the short kiss.
What could you say to that?
"You really haven't."
Feeling the hot breathing of his laughter on your inner thighs was not in your list for tonight.
"Do I get a kiss, then?"
He would never have to ask you twice.
Your legs wrap around his torso when you lean down to meet him for the kiss. Joel seems to love the position—he smiles at first, gripping you by the neck.
He takes his time to look at you before he dives in. A mental check-in. Maybe just admiring, just as you were from the second he kneeled.
His kiss comes from experience. A lot of fucking experience.
If you were weak in the knees before, you seal the notion that you're out of your depth there and then.
Joel kisses like no one's ever kissed you before—like he wants to explore, discover, conquer.
He licks his way inside of you with the first kiss.
His tongue isn't shy; he makes you adjust to his rhythm, to let go and open up, and when you, you're rewarded with it—he pulls up just an inch, just to whisper, "that's it," and then dives back in.
Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and neck in a possessive manner. It's why he makes it so easy for you let him guide it—he's holding you, and you moan as you melt into him.
He wants to feel your body.
The more you press yourself against him, the more Joel grants you little sighs of his own pleasure.
He never pushes his hips against you. Never presses you towards him.
It makes you want to scream.
When he pulls away, Joel sighs happily. He presses his right thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and nodding, kneels on his heels again.
"Joel..."
Your face remains close to his, gravitating to where he does. He whispers, "Lift your hips up for me, Sunshine," wrapped around a smile.
You do as he says.
His hand takes off your shorts without your eyes ever leaving you, and when the item is on the floor, Joel releases the robe you foregone earlier tonight from your backrest to slide down where you sit.
To not make a mess, it says.
Your face is burning up, but not as much as the rest of you.
"Is this ok?" he asks.
He waits for your nod of approval before pulling you by your knees. "Good," he's strong enough to get you where he wants in one pull. Your hips are nearing the end of the chair and from this angle, Joel gets to look.
He eyes the underwear as if it's personally offending him.
"I like the color," he says. He traces a finger across the baby blue lace and looks up at you. "Suits ya," he says. That's when he hooks a finger on the fabric, pulling it to the side. "I dreamt about this."
That gets to you.
Joel's fingers are thorough—able. He uses his knuckles to spread the lips apart, uncaring about the whines you let out above him, still holding on to the shame of being the only one exposed.
It lasts until he places two knuckles on each side of your clit, stimulating it with back-and-forth movements.
You were right about the torture.
He enjoys it.
Joel waits for your clit to be hard between his fingers before he puts his mouth to it.
You can only cling onto his hair.
I dreamt about this, too.
"Fuck—I dreamt about this too," you confess.
His moan vibrating against the core of your pussy makes you clench.
Joel's only starting.
He takes his time in finding the rhythm you most feel pleasure on your clit. He never bites, never nibbles, and doesn't go softly, like other men.
He eats.
Joel's mouth is stuck to you—the way he laps and slurps and sucks on your hardened nub only makes your volume go from whines and pleas of his name to moans in very little time.
That's when he dips his tongue inside. When he uses it as muscle and proves to you why the idea of oral is so good for men.
Because it's good.
Joel gives no indicator that he wants to stop at any time, and it turns you into something that blossoms.
At some point between him almost making you cum just by sucking on your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you, your legs made their way to his shoulders, and his hands have secured themselves groping your ass.
He pulls back for air, once.
His fingers enter you instead, two at once.
"So wet already," he says. You only hear it, until, "look at me," he asks.
As if his thick, long fingers dripping into places inside of you weren't enough, you get to look at him.
His face glistening on your back porch is something that burns behind your eyelids the second you see it. You feel incoherent, needy, and exposed in more than one way.
Joel looks like he could eat you like this.
"Joel—please. Please," you're begging, but for what, you're not sure.
"Cum for me first. I'll give you whatever you want later, just," he pumps his fingers inside of you, keeping a steady and strong pace, and then says, "You look so good like this, Jesus fuckin' Christ."
Profanities.
That's what he says before getting his mouth back on you—his tongue sucking and vibrating against your clit.
It's too much. Too fucking much, and, "Joel, Joel—"
He pulls back just to say it, "That's it, doin' so good, Sunshine—" and that's when you lose it. The coaxing. It's so earnest. Sounds so pleased, dipping in honey as if it's him who's feeling this good.
"'m gonna cum Joel, fuck me, just like that—"
"Like this? Hm? Show me. Cum on my mouth."
All it takes is for him to put it back on you. Joel knows how to push himself inside—knows how to explore the hot and tight confines of your cunt, because he coos a first orgasm out of you with the right pace only.
No strength. No speed. Just sucking, and curling right against your spot.
Your vision whites out.
The time you take to come back to yourself, he keeps playing with your pussy and the mess he made in it, seeming as satisfied with the result as you are. Somewhere in white land.
What a little death.
After that, it's more a mess and clashes of teeth and desires than you knew you were even capable of.
He pulls you in for a kiss, and you pull him inside the house.
The idea is to make it to your room, but you never make it past the living room.
When you press him against a wall to finish taking off his clothes, seeing him only in briefs makes gravity pull you in.
Nothing but black briefs.
You have to drop to your knees.
Joel curses under his breath and tries his best at keeping his posture, but you're with a mind entirely clouded by raw need.
To him, you want to do only your best.
You're addicted to the way he mutters, "atta girl," every time you discover something that brings him pleasure. It sounds so fucking dirty.
"That's it. Atta fuckin' girl, god."
With him, you use tricks your friends once told you that are buried in the back of your mind. You hold the part of his cock your mouth can't cover and move it in sync with your lips. You make it wet, make sloppy, make it whatever he leads it to be.
Joel hisses and moans louder when you find the special places hidden—the sensitive skin between his balls that leads up, you lick it from start to finish and are rewarded with a full-body shudder.
He shows you what strong body means.
"Where's your room?" he pulls you by the arms, and you somehow end up jumping on him. Exactly what you wanted.
"I'm not makin' that far," you tell him with a grin.
He has his thumb on your lips again—he seems to like your mouth.
"Didn't think you'd want my bare ass on your couch."
"That is exactly where I want your bare ass right now," you tell him.
He's good at following requests, just as he is at giving them.
Joel sits with you already straddling his lap, and bless his gentleman's heart, he says, "I left my pants outside—wait," he curses under his breath with your hips circling his shaft. Letting it slide between your pussy lips. "Fuckin' hell."
"Fuckin' hell indeed," you sigh. "Wait here."
You run outside for it, only because you're not on the pill. Maybe you'll start taking it. Maybe you shouldn't think that far.
Joel's waiting for you alright—he has his hand at the base of his cock, sitting on your couch like a modern-day Adonis.
A sluttier Adonis. Sexier, too.
"Stop starin' and c'mere," he demands;
And who are you to say no to that?
Joel does you the favor of putting it on as you make yourself comfortable on his lap again, taking all of your out of the way. He looks like he wants to eat you alive piece by piece, and you love it.
"Lemme know if you want me to take over," he tells you.
"Yes, sir," you whisper in a taunting manner.
Joel rests his forehead against yours when you line himself up with you, and it's a reward of your stupid, gigantic-ass window letting in the light from outside that allows you to see the pleasure on his face as you sink around him, burying him to the hilt.
His digits press so hard on your sides they'll brise.
You'll be bruised tomorrow morning.
Fingerprints on your hips, beard burns on your inner legs, palm shapes across your ass.
When you start moving, none of you say a word about how it feels.
It's criminal.
Only curses and your names are allowed in the thin space separating your wet bodies.
The thin layer of sweat makes you two glide on each other, and the drag of him inside of you is almost too good for words.
You're scared of the ones that'd make their way out, anyway.
So you let out what you can. You call for him, and he calls back. Joel slaps your ass, both sides of it, and urges you on to take him as you want it.
"Fuckin' christ, I'm never gonna—fuck—never gonna sleep again."
There it is. Being pussy-drunk makes him loose-lipped.
Your own are aching with how hard you bite on them.
Joel lets the reigns remain on your hands as you stay on top. He lets you ride him painfully slow, and faster, just because it feels good. He lets you climb all the way up only to slam back down, praising you through the fog in your brain.
"Does it feel good, Sunshine? Mm? My cock feels that good for you?"
You're sure it'll all come back to haunt you once your brain can be coherent.
He takes charge when you start begging him, and for what, you're unsure of. It's a mixture of please and his name, which Joel takes as his permission slip.
He flips you onto your back, hooks one of your legs on the middle of his back, and fucks you both into another orgasm.
It should be concerning the way he does it—like he's familiar with your body and your cues. He just follows your pace and moans until you're clawing at his back, and when his name comes out over and over again, he coaxes it again. Coos at you, holding your face in one hand. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Do it. I'll cum for you when I feel you shakin' around my cock, Sunshine. Cum for me."
It comes so hard you almost faint; blackout.
Joel takes care of you afterward.
Of course he does.
Even with the weakest legs and the minimum sense of reality around you, he manages. Joel leads you upstairs, tells you he's collected your clothes, and even lays down when you ask him.
"Just for a while," you ask.
He lays in front of you in bed, and pulls your arms around him. "I'm puttin' an alarm."
Little spoon. "You gotta be back here in the morning anyway."
"I know," he kisses your wrist. "Can't wait."
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Celebrating
Dean Winchester x F!Reader
hi, heres what i promised to the dean girls! i don't know what to say, this is long and i don't know if the smut is good enough, might edit later, also, dean in this red jacket is my favorite
Summary: It had been a while since you got some and at night of celebrating a successful hunt you expected to finally, after a long time, get laid
Warnings: SMUT, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), finger sucking, jealousy (? if you squint), oral f. recieving, fingering, dean is so in love ohmygod, english is not my first language, not proof read (if i forgot anything let me know)
Read it on AO3
WC: 4.7k
You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here
enjoy!
It was difficult for you to find anyone willing to spend the night with you in the current settings of your life, having to lie about what you do, who you are…Basically create a whole new personality just to be able to bring someone to your motel room. In that sense, it was frustrating, both sexually and mentally to be put in this scenery but, either way, saving lives was more important than getting laid, even if you were thoroughly stressed beyond comparison by your inability to find a guy (or girl).
You, Sam and Dean had gone to California for what you discovered, after great questioning and piles of research, was a simple salt ‘n burn of a poor ghost of a roadkill and was haunting that particular highway and crashing trucks of drivers who were mildly intoxicated behind the wheel.
After finding out where the bones were buried you went to the cemetery and started digging up the grave. Shovel after shovel of dirt fell behind you while you panted in exhaustion until you hit something hard at the bottom of the hole you dug up.
You harshly broke the wooden casket, revealing the remains of the ghost and a putrid smell hit your nose like everytime it happened when you had a salt ‘n burn. You scrunched up your nose and threw the shovel on the ground beside you, reaching with a hand towards Dean for him to help you get out of the hole.
“There it is.” You say proudly as you stare down at the decomposed body being covered with salt by Sam while Dean reaches for the alcohol in the bag and the lighter in his pocket.
You three watch as the bones light up in an orange fire, burning away what’s tying the poor soul to this world, the heat radiating in your skin. After some time you bump your shoulder with Dean’s, making him look at you.
“Let’s go, I need a shower so we can go out and celebrate” You say with a grin as you turn back to walk towards the Impala and Dean follows suit along with Sam, the fire slowly extinguishing itself behind you.
You opened the door to the backseat, the creaking of the hinges echoing through the night, getting inside and closing the door with a thud. Dean and Sam sat in their designed seats at the driver and shotgun, respectively, and you drove into the night towards the motel.
“I saw a bar not far from where we are staying” Dean said and you hummed and Sam nodded. “You two might have to come back alone, you know” He suggested with a smirk and Sam scrunched his nose and let out an amused huff and you chuckled dryly, a weird nausea bubbling in your stomach.
Deep down you wished Dean could see you the way he sees the bartenders and strippers in bars or clubs you three often go to. You didn’t know if he thought you were too rough, too scarred, both mentally and physically. You usually dressed up nice, using makeup from time to time when you noticed your eyebags were getting darker or when your lips looked too pale. You also tried your best with clothing, well, the best someone could do when you were a hunter. Either way, you never looked like those girls, they were absolutely stunning, even for you, and you couldn’t compete with them.
You shook your head. You were probably thinking these things because it had been some time since you last got laid. Tonight was your night, you were feeling it, you were taking someone to your room.
Dean turned the car off after parking and you got out, going to the trunk to get your bag.
“You guys meet me in my room? I’ll most likely take longer to get ready” You said with a grin and the boys nodded. You took out the keys to your room and got in, throwing your bag over your bed and going to another bag you had in your room, where you kept your “fancy” clothes and makeup.
You took out a beautiful black dress with long sleeves that ended in your mid thighs. It was a dress you thrifted when you went on a hunt alone a while ago and never had the opportunity to use it. When you tried it on, though, it hugged your curves in all the right places, made your body look amazing and you felt as confident as one could feel.
You left the dress over the bed and rushed to the bathroom to take a shower, smiling to yourself. You took your time, washed your hair thoroughly and finished it off in the usual way. In the hunting life you often get your hair very dirty almost everyday with blood, dirt, ectoplasm…you name it. So, keeping it lucious and healthy was a process that you grew fond of doing to recollect some of that normalcy that hunting didn’t give you.
You came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body and picked up an underwear set that was, well, sensual to say the least and dropped the towel to the ground to put it on, the dress going over it, careful not to mess up your hair in the process.
You looked at yourself in the mirror and whistled in surprise at your own appearance, you looked good. Time for makeup.
You didn’t do much, a simple concealer, contour and blush with mascara and a smokey eye was enough to drop any man to the ground.
You decided to put shoes on because, first, if you really had to walk back, heels weren’t helpful, second, you didn’t have your heels with you at the moment.
While you were finishing up you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and there they were, Sam and Dean, practically on the same looks, just cleaner, waiting for you.
They both eyed you up and down, drinking your appearance in, Dean dropping his jaw slightly as he stared at your exposed thighs. Sam let out an impressed sigh and cleared his throat.
“Wow Y/N you look…amazing” He said and you smiled, looking down, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.
“Yeah…” Dean agrees, half on earth, half in his head trying to get rid of the thoughts of those beautiful legs wrapped around his neck while his nose deep into your–
“Well, thank you, I hope it isn’t too much.” You said.
“No, n–no, ha, it’s not, at all,” Dean said to quickly, finally grasping the courage to look into your eyes, the beautiful colors drowning him and your shy smile making him want to smash his lips to yours that moment. He cleared his throat. “Shall we go?” He offered.
“Yes, let me just get my phone” You said and went inside for a couple seconds, coming out with it and your wallet. “C’mon!”
You passed through them and went towards the car. Sam elbowed Dean to make him turn to him.
“You are staring at her like she’s a cheeseburger and you haven’t eaten in days, man” Sam teased and Dean frowned at him “You were practically drooling”
“I–I was not, okay? She just looks…pretty, that's all” Dean said, ignoring Sam’s ‘Yeah, right’ and going to the driver's seat in the Impala, you already sat down in the backseat. After Sam got in you all went to the bar and you felt particularly excited this time.
“Okay, every single one who tried to flirt with me was a disaster” You said, coming back to the table with a sigh, Sam and Dean almost laughing at you as you handed them their beers. “Seriously, who do I have to kill to get laid in this shit”
You took a swig of your beer and looked around once more, trying to find a decent man for you to take back tonight when you eyed a handsome black haired guy a few feet away. You smiled to yourself and got up from your seat.
When you walked up to him you didn’t see it but Dean was fuming with jealousy, this feeling bubbling up inside him that made his fists unconsciously clench over the table. He tried flirting with other women that night, chatting them up like he usually did but it all went down the drain the moment his eyes darted to you again, a guy practically snuggling up to you while you gently pushed him away and refused his advances, either not finding him attractive or just not feeling a spark.
He should be the one you looked at, he knew everything about you, how you liked your coffee, your favorite drinks, the faint lines that would appear around your lips when you smiled, the way your eyes lit up when you were talking about something you enjoyed. He knows you.
Sam noticed his brother’s demeanor and called out to him to snap him out of his jealous haze. Dean turned his eyes to Sam and he had this stupid smirk on his face, sipping the beer once again to hide his amused smile.
“What?” Dean snapped, his hand wrapping around the bottle, the cool glass doing nothing to ease his temper down, his knee going up and down under the table with nervousness.
“Nothin’” Sam answered and finished his beer, getting up and leaving a couple dollars, enough to pay for the beers he drank. “I’m going back, y’know, tired. Tell Y/N”
Dean nodded, he didn’t know if Sam meant for him to tell you that Sam went back or that you’ve been in his dreams for months now, not all of them cute and fluffy, some made him wake up with a hard-on, sweating and longing for you.
He looked in your direction and you were coming back with an annoyed face, arms crossed in front of you, feet stomping the ground. Dean made a confused face and when you got back to the table you sat down on the chair with a scoff, his eyes never leaving you.
“He has a girlfriend” You murmured and then realized you were one man short “Where’s Sam?”
“He called in, tired” Dean said and you hummed. He had a weird look on his face, something you couldn’t make out what was. You sighed and looked down.
“I think we should go too, this night was disappointing to me” You breathed out a laugh “I’m impressed you didn’t find anyone, I saw some girls eyeing you”
“Nah, I’m fine,” He said and finished his beer. You widened your eyes at him but didn’t say anything, just nodding hesitantly in shock. “Let 's go?”
He said getting up and you mirrored him, pulling your dress down a bit, Dean’s eyes on you all the time. He bit his lower lip and mentally told himself to cool it.
As you two walked towards the car you couldn’t help but look at him up and down, silently appreciating his figure. His strong jawline, his green eyes now dark thanks to the night, his slightly crooked nose that made him look unique.
When you got into the car, in silence, you drove back to the motel and you felt an unmistakable tension in the air and you were worried you might’ve done something to upset the man. You started to fidget with your fingers over your lap, the street lights going past the car through the window as Dean sped up through the pavement.
His hands gripped the wheel, holding back the urge to pounce on you right there and then. When he parked the car and reached for the door handle you held his wrist.
“Wait! Dean, is something the matter?” You asked, big eyes looking into his as he looked at you, noticing the trouble behind those beautiful orbs. He wanted to punch himself in the gut for making you feel bad. “What happened?”
“Nothing it’s just…” He trailed off and looked at your hand wrapping his wrist. His other hand enveloped over it and your skin flared up with goosebumps. He felt warm, rough, his strong grip comforting. You took your hand away from his wrist, allowing his hand to wrap over your and pull you into him.
You yelped and was about to question him when you felt his plump lips against yours, his other hand hesitantly holding your cheek and you melted. It took you a while to process what was happening. Dean Winchester is kissing you. Though, when you did, your free hand went to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.
Everything felt like a fever dream and you were afraid that if you pulled away you’d wake up and Dean would be gone. His lips had a taste of beer lingering from the night out, they were full and smooth. You felt like you were drowning in this feeling until Dean pulled away, seeking a breath of air.
You looked between his eyes, your breaths molding into each other from the closeness. You moved the hand he was holding up his chest, to his shoulder, up to his cheek, his eyes closing and his head snuggling against your hand, his fingers fidgeting around your wrist.
He opened his eyes, a thousand feelings swimming behind his green orbs as you both communicate in silence, an agreement, a revelation. You smiled and pulled him in again, this time with no hesitation. His hand went down your arm slowly, your skin warming up where his hand passed by, and settled by your waist, pulling you closer. His tongue teased your bottom lip and you eagerly opened your mouth with a low moan.
At that, he smirked into the kiss and pulled you over his lap, the steering wheel digging into your back, his hands both placed at your hips as you unconsciously rocked against him. He let go of your mouth again and you stared down at him.
“I wanted to do this so bad” He whispered and you smiled, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck mindlessly. He placed a loving kiss at your jaw and pulled away again while you hummed, content.
When you looked at his face again there was a frown and he was avoiding your eyes. You grabbed both his cheeks and made him look at you.
“What was that thought, hm?” You ask lightly as to not push him away. You didn’t want this to end, not ever. He seemed nervous.
“What does this mean to you?” He asked and you furrowed your eyebrows. “To me, Y/N,” he continued, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs “you’re everything, I mean, you– you’re perfect. You’ve seen everything I’ve done and never let me down, you’re beautiful and so much more. If to you I’m just a way to get off then–”
You cut him off with a peck on his lips.
“Stop. Right there.” You started, looking deep into his eyes. “Dean I– you are everything I’ve ever wanted, needed. You mean more to me than words can describe, you’re not just a one night stand, you’re my dream”
When you finished, he didn’t waste a second to wrap a hand behind your neck and steal your lips again, his mouth addicting. There was so much passion, feeling and desire pumping through your veins.
Your dress was high on your thighs and one of his hands squeezed the flesh hungrily, making you groan in his mouth. He went further with his hand, his thumb caressing over your covered sex and you opened your mouth in a whimper.
Dean attacked your neck with kisses and hickeys, his teeth leaving a pattern over your skin as his hand ghosts over where you need him the most.
“Dean…” You say, a beg behind your words and he pulls away, both his hand and his mouth, making you shiver from the lack of contact and the cool feeling his saliva left behind over your neck.
“Sweetheart, as much as I’d like to have you in the car,” He said, his voice rough and deeper with lust, his pupils wide as he opened the door, a cool breeze coming in that did little to nothing to cool your skin off. “you deserve a bed, another time” He finished, leaving an open mouthed kiss under your ear.
Another time. You nodded, words failing you as you stepped out of the car, adjusting your dress and hair the best you could to seem decent. Dean stood up behind you and let a hand linger on your waist, eager to touch you at all times and all ways.
You both walked towards the door of your room, Dean’s fingers tightening on your skin the longer it took for you to get the door open. The moment you were able to open it, he pushed both of you in, turning you around and pinning you to the door inside, closing it with a loud noise behind your back and his lips were on your again, his hands roaming over every inch of your skin.
You yelped in shock but soon reciprocated the touches and kisses, your fingers wrapping around his jacket and pulling it off, his hands momentarily leaving you to drop it to the ground. When his hands came back he grabbed both your legs and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips for support, his fingers digging into your skin yet again.
Your hands pulled on his hair, your tongues battling in a messy kiss when you feel your body move to the bed, your body being gently placed over it.
Dean pulled away, standing up fully and you took him in with a bite of your lip. He unbuttoned his flannel, slowly and you lifted your dress over your hips, lifting them off the bed to help, revealing your panties and over your head to take it off completely and throwing the fabric away.
Dean’s breathing got heavier, the confine of his pants bothering him as he finally discards the flannel, torso naked to you. You drink his defined physique with hooded eyes and he smirks down at you, his head going close to the waistband of your panties, eyes never leaving yours as he leaves kisses from your hips to your stomach to the valley of your breasts until he came face to face with you again, a smile lingering in his lips making one of your own appear on yours.
Your hands grab at his cheeks and pull him in again as he holds you by your waist, pulling your near naked torso into his. His fingers ghost over every inch of new exposed skin as if he was memorizing every atom of your being like you were going to disappear.
Your hands start to explore over his chest, the strong muscles flexing against your palms, your nails scratching at his wide back and shoulders.
His hands travel behind your back to unclasp your bra and you let him, letting the undergarment go loose against your breasts and Dean takes it off. He drinks the view in, staring and you start to feel self-conscious and take your hands to cover yourself up. Dean catches onto that and kisses you again, one big hand grabbing at your right breast and you whimper in his mouth.
“I always knew you were beautiful” He whispers against your lips and pulls back to look at you again “But you are the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on”
This time you turned away from him with a stupid smile on your face.
“Says you” You say and turn to him again, your hands over his shoulders and moving towards his back “Your back is a perfect place for my nails to dig in” You whisper seductively on his ear and leave a hickey on his neck. He groans and lowers his head to wrap his mouth around one of your nipples, the warm feeling against the sensitive nub making you arch your back into him and your fingers to tangle in his hair.
“Dean, fuck–” You moan as he gently bites your nipple and moves to the other breast, his eyes looking at you from below and drinking in your noises.
One of his hands sneaked up your inner thigh and teased your clit over your panties and you shivered, a smirk on his lips against your breast. He slowly took your panties off, discarding them on the ground and now you were completely bare below him, vulnerable.
His middle finger pressed over your clit and you arched again.
“Dean, please…” You beg, your best attempt at puppy dog eyes looking down at him and he adds his ring finger, starting to do slow circles over the sensitive nub as he kisses up your neck, your noises of pleasure egging him on.
He lowers his fingers to your entrance and he slips both in with no restraint given your wetness, the feeling making you let out a moan and grab onto his shoulders as he hooks his fingers inside you, touching that special spot.
He smirks smugly and continues his ministrations, your pussy clenching and tightening around his fingers making him groan.
“You’re so wet” He mumbles “I wonder how you taste like” He gives your nose a peck, your mind too drowned in pleasure to respond to his words. He kisses down your body, his fingers never leaving you, until he's facing your cunt. He places both your legs over his shoulders, your thighs resting around his cheeks, the light stubble leaving a tingly feeling behind.
He leaves a lingering kiss over your clit and you buck your hips, looking for more friction. He teases a bit more, biting and sucking at your inner thighs, everywhere but where you needed his mouth to be. You took charge and grabbed at his hair, pulling his face closer and he complied.
“Oh, fuck!” You groan.
His tongue licked at your sex and your loud moans echoed through the walls, the warm muscle doing wonders against you and the mix of his fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge, your eyes fluttering close in bliss.
“Dean, God” You moan as he squeezes your thigh. All the ministrations send shivers down your spine, your core tightening inside you, that familiar rush of warmth spreading through you. Your thighs try to close, forgetting Dean’s in between and he hums against your cunt, the vibrations making you feel like you were in heaven. “I’m cumming”
“Cum for me princess” He mumbles and you let go with a chant of his name. The feeling washes over you, making you feel lighter for a couple seconds, Dean helping you ride out your orgasm. When the stimulation becomes too much and you whine and squirm away, he gets up from his knees, chin glistening in your juices. He took his fingers out, a grunt scaping your throat at the emptiness. It was a sinful sight.
He crawled over you again, his middle and index finger teasing at your bottom lip.
“Open up” He said, voice deep and demanding and you obeyed, opening your mouth and letting his fingers in. You lick your juices clean off his fingers, never breaking eye contact, humming and moaning against his digits as Dean bites his lips with force. Your hand travels down to unbuckle his belt and he takes his fingers away from your mouth to kiss you.
Once you got the belt open, Dean backed away, taking his shoes off and unzipping his pants. Meanwhile, you drank in his appearance. His hair was a mess, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, his arms flexing as he lowered his pants along with his boxers. He was divine.
When he dropped the jeans his eyes drifted back to you, catching you staring and he smirks.
“See something you like?” He asks, closing the gap between you again, smashing your lips to his in yet another breathtaking kiss.
He completely lies you down on the mattress, his elbows supporting his weight over you as his cock bumps against your sensitive sex and you gasp, hand gripping the back of his neck.
“Fuck me” You say, bluntly and whiny but he gets the hint and aligns his member to your hole.
“Yes Ma’am” He says and starts to insert himself inside you, an immediate groan coming out of both your throats, his forehead dropping to the nape of your neck as his fingers dug into your hips, holding himself back to not slam into you at full force. You felt amazing around him, the warmth of your walls made him never want to go away.
“Oh my God” You moan as he slowly goes deeper, his cock throbbing inside you. Once he bottomed out you were breathing heavier than ever, pupils blown and nails teasing at his back. “Dean”
“I’m right here sweetheart” He reassured you and left kisses over your shoulder to distract you. You grinned at his sweetness and rolled your hips against his, a sign that he could move.
“Move, please, I want to feel you” You mumbled and he obliged, instant pleasure going through your body.
“God, Y/N” He moaned close to your ear as he went faster, your moans getting louder.
He smashed his hips against yours, eyeing the way it went in and out, being deliciously consumed by your cunt, glistening with your slick and cum. He stared at you, your fucked out state, the way you were a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him and he felt proud to be the reason you were like this.
You felt every inch ripping your insides, Dean’s hands roaming through your body as his lips left bite marks and kisses around your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and everything just added more to the pleasure when his tongue circled around your nipple.
“You’re so pretty” He groaned after pulling away from your breasts and felt that familiar feeling go through him as your pussy clenched tighter around his cock. He was close and he knew you were too. His hands traveled both down to your lower body, one pressed over the skin under your belly button and the other circled your clit messly.
When he pressed down over your lower belly you felt him impossibly deeper and grabbed at the sheets underneath you to ground yourself to reality.
“Jesus– Fuck Dean, please!” You moaned incoherently as that bubble inside you was about to pop “I’m gonna cum, baby, please” You moaned again and you knew he was close to, his hips stuttering and losing rhythm.
“Cum with me Y/N” He said and not even seconds later you unraveled beneath him, your high hitting you like a bus, a loud moan rippling through your throat and Dean pulled out, cumming over your stomach, his chest heaving with his breaths.
Dean forced himself to get up and get a wet towel to clean you up in the bathroom, coming back and gently wiping away the fluids. You were spent and at the same time as happy as you could ever be.
You adjusted yourself in the bed while you waited for Dean to come back from the bathroom after discarding the towel, his naked shadow visible thanks to the light inside. When he walked out he smiled at you and snuggled beside you, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around your waist.
You were both silent for a while until he spoke up.
“I love you so much” He said “And no, this is not post sex haze, I’ve loved you for so long” He admitted quietly above you and you felt your heart beating ten times faster at his words. You looked up at him and placed a gentle hand over his cheek to make him look down at you.
“I love you too, dumbass” You say with a chuckle and kiss him deeply again, pouring all the love you knew you felt towards him into the kiss.
A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo.
#supernatural#dean winchester#jensen ackles#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fic#dean winchester smut#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean x you#spn#supernatural fandom#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#supernatural imagine#supernatural smut#supernatural x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester x y/n
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saw this prompt @newgrangespirals @steddieas-shegoes; needed to write it but also i kind of derailed it bc my brain has a mind of its own and its focus is steddie so i apologize
also on ao3
He’s met with silence.
Eddie supposes Murray Bauman must only ever be met with silence after speaking; he doesn’t seem the type of man to hold an easy, casual conversation. Especially now.
Even Argyle is silent, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth as he looks from Murray to Jonathan, whose face is red, then Nancy, who’s equally flushed.
Eddie looks at the table, his vision blurring. His hands are shaking.
“Murray,” Joyce says in a lethally calm voice. Eddie had forgotten she was here. “Go.”
“What do you mean, go?” Murray says, his voice quieter like he’s starting to sense what he’s just done. “We’re in—“
“Murray,” Joyce snaps. Eddie flinches. His fingers are knotting with the hem of the tablecloth, his food uneaten on his plate. “Go. I will deal with you later.”
There’s a moment of quiet before Murray’s chair scrapes across the uneven tile floor, and his footsteps retreat. And then there’s silence again. Tense, tense silence.
“Steve,” Nancy says quietly, and Eddie looks up at her, glaring even though she hasn’t done anything to him. Jonathan looks at her too, anxious. Joyce sips her water, her hand shaking, and Hopper has his head down, his face hidden in his hands.
“I’m good,” Steve says shortly, and Eddie looks at him, his stomach flipping. Steve is smiling a little, but it’s an awful smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his plate away with a breath like he feels just as sick as Eddie does, and he nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s really here. “I’m…”
“Steve, it— it wasn’t—“
“You told him my name,” Steve snaps, looking at her across the table, his eyes wide. Nancy looks like she’s going to start crying, and Eddie finds that he really doesn’t care if she does. “And you still…”
He laughs. Dryly, humourlessly. Eddie feels like he might throw up.
Steve closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a migraine coming on, and he laughs again.
“Steve—“ Jonathan tries to say, but Steve just holds his hands up, shaking his head.
“I’m just…”
He pushes his plate farther away, moving his chair back with a loud scrape, and then he’s leaving too, going upstairs. Eddie watches him go, watches Robin get up to follow him before she deflates, seeing the way Steve gestures for her to stay, to leave him alone. Robin’s hands are shaking, and Eddie can practically feel the anger radiating from her.
The silence is back after a door slams upstairs.
Joyce sets her glass down loudly, and she puts her hands flat on the table next to her plate, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hopper says her name softly, but she holds a hand up, shushing him.
“I have never…” she starts slowly, her voice shaking with anger. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”
“Mom—”
“Jonathan,” Joyce snaps, fixing a look on him, and he falls quiet. “…I did not raise you to be the other man. And Nancy, I…” She puts her hands on the table again, taking a measured breath before she looks at Nancy. “I am not your mother, but I think I am well within my rights to say I’m disappointed in you, too.”
“Ms Byers—”
“I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you,” Joyce says calmly before she touches her face, rubbing her chin anxiously as she stares at her plate in front of her. Nobody is eating anymore. Eddie still feels sick, but he also feels like he’s blended into the wall, like everybody’s forgotten that he’s here at all. He looks at the table, at the fraying tablecloth that’s clutched in his fingers.
“Unbelievable,” Joyce mutters to herself. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Nancy takes a shuddering breath. She might be crying.
“Eddie, dude.”
Eddie looks up, his eyes meeting Argyle’s. He’s looking over at Eddie anxiously, his head tilted a little bit, and as they look at each other, the others look at Eddie too. And suddenly he isn’t in the wall, but he’s the centrepiece of the table, the showstopper, the freak.
It’s like they all remember what Murray said at the same time.
“Eddie,” Joyce says, her voice softer than it was a moment ago. Kinder. Eddie looks at her. “Honey, if… if it is true. None of us have any problem with it.”
If it is true.
They all know it is. Eddie can tell just by looking at them that they all know.
He feels so… small. Like he’s fifteen again. Like he’s new in high school, like he’s walking down the hallway and feeling all the stares, the eyes and eyes and eyes looking, watching, analysing, judging. Even though Joyce’s gaze is kind, and Hopper gives him a slight nod when their eyes meet.
Eddie’s chest feels so tight he can’t breathe, each breath shallow and weak, and he’s kind of lightheaded, and he feels fucking nauseous.
“I, uhm.” He clears his throat, his stomach churning, and he untangled his fingers from the tablecloth, taking a sharp breath. “Excuse me,” he says quickly, breathlessly, moving his chair back so fast it tips on the uneven tiles. He feels like he might pass out as he goes upstairs, hearing Argyle say something quietly behind him.
Upstairs feels even quiet than downstairs. Like every room could have an echo.
Eddie finds a room that’s empty except for some cardboard boxes, and he shuts the door behind himself before he goes to the opposite side of the room, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to the wall. It’s cold.
He’s breathing too fast, and his head feels light, like if his eyes were open his vision would be dark. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, squeezing as he exhales until he wheezes, until there’s nothing in his lungs, and then he inhales as slowly as he can. In, in, in, until he can’t anymore. He holds it. Exhales. Does it all over again.
Until he can breathe without suffocating.
He turns to rest his back on the wall, and he slides down to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest, exhaling shakily.
He’s never felt like this before.
He feels so… lonely.
He feels almost cold, even though sunlight is streaming through the window, beams of golden light glowing across the floor.
He cries. Even though he tries not to. He can’t help it, and the tears are absorbed by the sleeves of his hoodie.
Steve’s hoodie. Eddie hates that he’s wearing it, even though Steve brought it just for him. Even though Steve specifically made sure he brought a black one, even though it smells like Steve. Eddie hates that Murray noticed that it’s Steve’s.
He stays there for a while. Until the sunlight dims.
He only lifts his head when the door breaks open, and Steve’s voice says, “Eddie?”
Eddie stands quickly, wiping his face and sniffling as Steve finds him and shuts the door behind himself.
“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice wavering. “You okay?”
Steve nods. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his eyes are shining blankly. And Eddie aches.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Steve blinks at him, hesitating.
“I kind of already knew,” he says like it’s a question. “I just…” He exhales, swallowing, and Eddie knows he’s talking about Nancy and Jonathan. It. “I, like, convinced myself I didn’t care? That it— it didn’t matter?”
Eddie listens, leaning against the wall, watching Steve push his hair back anxiously.
“I mean— the world was ending, who gives a shit if— if I get cheated on? It’s so fucking stupid.” He doesn’t seem to realize he’s even talking to Eddie. He’s just talking. Saying what he didn’t say downstairs. “But I’m so… Jesus. Hearing it out loud, like— like Murray was fucking proud, like it was funny, I’m just… I don’t know.”
Steve deflates, leaning against the door, looking at Eddie, and his eyes are shining.
“Embarrassed?”
“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“...I trusted them,” Steve says quietly, weakly.
“You trusted them,” Eddie repeats. “What they did is their fault, Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting them wasn’t wrong,” he adds adamantly, watching the way Steve’s eyes shine. “You thought they were— they were trustworthy. You didn’t know they’d do something like that.”
Steve sniffs, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, and Eddie hates himself for thinking he looks beautiful.
“You have every right to feel hurt,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him. He swallows. “And to feel angry.”
“What about you?” Steve asks quietly after a moment. Eddie blinks.
“What about me?”
Steve looks at him. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, intent and searching before he speaks. His voice is so soft. Kind.
“He just outed you in front of all of us,” he says quietly. “You’re not angry?”
Eddie blinks again.
Steve looks at him so kindly. Eddie likes being looked at like this. Like Steve is listening to him even though he isn’t speaking. And Eddie realizes that Steve just knows, that he doesn’t question it. That he knows how Eddie is feeling, but is waiting for him to say it himself.
Eddie’s lip quivers, and he feels like a child again.
“I…” He hesitates, taking a breath as a wave of nausea washes over him again. Steve just looks at him. “I’ve never come out to anyone,” he says weakly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ve never gotten the chance to. My— My dad found some zines in my room when I was fourteen, and I didn’t… I didn’t have to say anything.” His voice is shaking. He’s never told anyone about this, not even Jeff. “The only time I ever heard that man say anything about God was when he was trying to beat the queer out of me,” he says, laughing the way Steve laughed downstairs. Humorless. Almost hysterical. “And he— he called Wayne to tell him everything because he…”
Eddie trails off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
“I told myself no one would ever know when Wayne took me in, but I swear it was like overnight, the whole town knew,” he chokes. “Because of— of my hair, or my clothes, or— or because people associate queerness with evil and— and Satanism, I don’t fucking know, but everyone knew and I…”
He covers his face, his face hot with embarrassment as a sob escapes him, and it feels so stupid to be so upset right now, but Steve just waits patiently, listening and looking at him.
“People keep taking it,” Eddie chokes, his face wet with tears now, looking at Steve desperately. “It’s mine, and people keep taking it from me.”
Steve nods.
And then he’s coming close and wrapping his arms around Eddie, and Eddie is crying into his shoulder, his hands clutching at Steve’s shirt the way they clutched at the tablecloth earlier, his fingers gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles ache. He’s shaking. But Steve’s hands feel steady as they run over his back, and Eddie wants to die.
Because Murray told them to have sex. And Steve is still here, holding Eddie while he cries, even though he knows Eddie is gay, even though Murray told the whole table that Eddie likes Steve, that it’s so painfully obvious that he likes Steve. That he’s pining, yearning.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Steve’s neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, and Steve moves a hand to hold the back of his head, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s curls to cradle his skull. And it’s almost fucking tender, and Eddie doesn’t know how he got here. Or where he’s going to go.
Steve is murmuring to him. Quiet I got yous and It’s okays, his voice breathy and soft in Eddie’s ear. Eddie melts against him, and Steve holds him tightly, swaying with him, rubbing his back and scratching his fingertips over his scalp carefully the way he does when Eddie has nightmares.
Eddie whines into his neck, choking on his breath, and Steve’s arm tightens around his waist like he’s preparing to catch Eddie if he falls.
“I know,” he whispers softly. “It’s not fair.”
Eddie shakes his head.
It’s not fair.
It’s fucking bullshit.
The whole world thinks it knows him better than he knows himself. Even if they’re fucking right. It’s not fair. He’s never gotten to speak for himself, never gotten to really introduce himself.
He aches when he finally stops crying, his fingers relaxing but still holding Steve’s shirt loosely, and his hands are sore. Steve runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. He waits, holding Eddie close even though he isn’t crying anymore, touching him gently, kindly, as Eddie catches his breath.
“You know what I’m angriest at?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, his voice weak and breaking from his crying. Steve touches his head again.
“What?” Steve whispers.
“...He’s fucking right.”
Steve is quiet. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn again.
And then Steve is shifting, holding the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at him. Steve looks into his eyes intently, and it’s almost too much, but Eddie can’t look away, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt.
“About everything?” he whispers softly. Tentatively.
Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes, and he nods.
He feels sick again. He can’t breathe.
Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s face, and he’s so fucking warm. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheek so lightly Eddie can barely feel it. And Steve’s face relaxes, like he’s deflating, as he touches Eddie’s face, as his other hand presses into the small of his back.
“I really fucking hate him,” Steve breathes. His eyes flicker across Eddie’s face, and they linger on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie whispers his name. Steve hesitates, stammering silently for a moment before, “Can you say it?”
Eddie steps back a little, and their hands fall even though they’re still close enough for Eddie to see the green in his eyes.
“...Say what?” he asks hesitantly. Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, and he looks so desperate suddenly.
“Everything,” he says breathlessly. “I wanna hear it from you.”
Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, but Steve looks like he’s begging, and Eddie is weak.
“I’m gay,” he says softly, whispering like he’s worried someone outside might hear. “And I…” He takes a breath. Steve’s eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s looking for it. “I have, like… a huge fucking crush on you.”
Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth like he’s watching his lips form the words. Eddie is trembling. Steve suddenly feels like he’s across the room, like he’s far away even though they’re standing so close.
“I might fucking be in love with you, Steve, I…”
He chokes on his breath, and Steve is touching him again, reaching for his face and wiping away his tears carefully, stepping closer. Eddie’s hands find his waist, and he grips his shirt again.
Steve says his name.
It always sounds so nice in his mouth.
“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Eddie says, trying to tear himself away, closing his eyes as Steve holds his face and wipes his tears. “I know, it’s…”
“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on Eddie’s cheeks, and he’s so close now, their noses almost brushing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
Eddie’s eyes widen. He leans back to see Steve clearly, and Steve looks so nervous that Eddie aches.
“Really?” Eddie asks weakly.
“I…” Steve pauses, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and licking his lips, hesitating. “I might be fucking in love with you too,” he whispers.
Eddie closes his eyes, exhaling as Steve strokes his cheeks again. He gasps for breath when Steve’s forehead touches his, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt before he slides his hands over his waist gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric.
“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Steve asks again, his breath soft on Eddie’s face.
“Yeah,” he chokes.
Steve’s palms press to Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie’s hands clutch at Steve’s waist desperately when Steve’s nose nudges his, when their lips brush. He feels like he’s dying.
But Steve kisses him so softly, so sweetly. Holding his face tenderly in his hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him, to check, even though Eddie is holding him against himself, even though Eddie’s chin lifts like he’s subconsciously searching for his mouth again.
Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and Steve is smiling at him. It’s such a soft smile, and Eddie forgets everything that’s happened today. Except Steve’s lips on his.
“Please,” he breathes. Begs. Pleads.
Steve kisses him again. One of his hands slides to hold the back of his head again, his fingers threading into Eddie’s curls, and his other shifts down to Eddie’s neck, his fingertips slipping under the hoodie as his thumb brushes over Eddie’s throat so lightly it tickles a little bit. Eddie’s hands press to Steve’s waist and slide to press into the small of his back, and he’s probably wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, but neither of them cares as they tilt their heads, as their lips part.
They pull away to look at each other after a few moments, close enough that they’re sharing breaths as they both breathe hard, as Steve’s fingertips scratch over Eddie’s scalp lightly and Eddie’s eyelids flutter for a second. And then Steve is tilting his head and leaning down to kiss Eddie’s neck, his fingers twisting in his hair to hold him in place, and Eddie is dying, letting out a whimper as his eyes close and his hands reach for Steve’s arms. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his upper arms, squeezing as Steve presses a slow kiss under his ear. His mouth is so warm.
Steve kisses him when he lifts his head, and Eddie kisses him back desperately, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck, whining when Steve’s hands find his waist and pull.
Then Steve pushes, reaching up to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie stumbles back, his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair and tugging when his back hits the wall. Steve’s hand blocks his head from the wall, and Eddie smiles against his mouth, gasping when Steve’s tongue slips across his lip.
“Steve,” he gasps, lightheaded as Steve sucks on his lower lip, as one of his hands slides under the hoodie to touch his skin. His palms are a little rough with calluses, scratching the sensitive scar tissue on Eddie’s waist lightly, and Eddie groans.
Steve pulls away with a gasp, looking at Eddie desperately, frantically, his other hand holding his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his lips are shining, and his hair is a mess, and Eddie wantshimwantshimwantshim—
“Do you wanna leave?” Steve asks, his voice rough, and Eddie looks at his mouth, still panting. “I… I don’t wanna see any of them, I just…” He’s breathless too. His hand runs over Eddie’s scarring again almost mindlessly as his thumb brushes his cheek. “Do you wanna go?”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.
Steve smiles softly, his eyes shining at him, and he leans in to kiss him one more time, caressing his cheek. (Caressing. Jesus.) Eddie hums, savouring it before they part with a quiet, slick noise that seems to echo in the empty room.
Eddie feels lightheaded again, but he’s smiling like he’s sleepy as Steve shifts his hands to press his chin up, smiling at how pliant Eddie is. Eddie laughs under his breath, his hands holding Steve’s shoulders.
“I’m so fucking… relieved right now,” Eddie whispers, his head falling to rest on the wall behind him. Steve kisses him again before he pulls him close, hugging him tightly.
Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, wanting to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist, to cling to him like a koala, wanting to climb inside him, to be as close as fucking possible. Steve exhales roughly, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair.
Steve holds his hand as they leave, ignoring the others that are gathered in the living room, even though they’re clearly waiting for the two of them. Eddie lets the door slam shut behind them. Steve drives. Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently as he looks out the windows and watches the world go by.
He’s kind of anxious about this, whatever it is. Anxious that he isn’t what Steve thinks he is, what Steve hopes he is, anxious that he isn’t enough for him.
But he’ll try his best, he knows he will. He’ll bring Steve fucking flowers, he’ll write him fucking poems if it makes him smile. He’ll ravish him the way he deserves, touch him the way he likes, tell him every chance he gets how fucking beautiful he is. He’ll kiss him good morning and learn how to make his coffee just right. He’ll memorize the pattern of his moles and name constellations on his skin.
He’ll remind him every single day, as long as Steve lets him have him, what he deserves.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie prompt#steddie one shot#steve harrington one shot#eddie munson one shot#stranger things#stranger things one shot
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Text
Routine Check Up
Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Fem!Reader
Also on AO3
Summary: The good Dr. Lecter stops by to check up on Will Graham's favorite pet.
Word Count: 2.3k words
Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, i think i was possessed while writing this, Plot? What fucking plot?, light petplay... but in the female gaze ig, Dom/Sub dynamic, light dehumanization, threesome, Hannibal gets to put his PhD to good use,Oral, unprotected p in v (don't you dare) ,dirty talk, self indulgent afffff, ....breeding kink?
A/N: I DECIDED TO SAY FUCK IT. @glitchedpup dedicating it to you here too!
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You woke to the sound of a car pulling up the gravel road, and Will’s dogs barking outside.
On the bedside clock, it read eight thirty AM. You usually woke up around the same time as Will, but you supposed he’d let you sleep in a little longer this time. It was a Sunday, after all.
Moments later, there was knocking on the front door. Will padded over from the kitchen and he opened it to reveal Hannibal. You sat up in the bed, curious, and crawled forward a little to get a better look.
“Hannibal,” he greeted in an even tone, even if you could tell he was a little surprised. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Just a routine check-up, Will,” he said with a small shrug, looking over his shoulder at you. “Have to keep her healthy, right?”
“No courtesy call beforehand? That’s uncharacteristic of you,” Will noted, stepping aside to let him in. “I suppose you meant to surprise us.”
Once more, Hannibal smiled enigmatically, a glint of mischief in his amber eyes. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by.”
He hung up his jacket by the door, and Will motioned for you to stand up and come closer.
You shot him a quizzical look, but made no questions as you scurried over to them, standing at attention next to Will.
“Hello, there,” Hannibal said amicably. “Mind if I take a look at you?”
You nodded quickly, almost eagerly. Will raised an eyebrow at this, but Hannibal kept his eyes on you.
This was one of his little games, a constant reminder of who had the upper hand. You knew what he called you to others — Will Graham’s favorite pet.
Still, you didn’t mind playing along, and it seemed like Will didn’t either. You weren’t sure what that said about you, but you found it wasn’t quite as mortifying as one might expect.
“I’ll need her to…” Hannibal trailed off, gesturing at your figure.
“Strip,” Will commanded, barely glancing at you.
You did as told, eyeing the doctor peripherally. He was appraising you as well, slightly impressed at your unflinching obedience.
You’d been well trained, after all.
You weren’t wearing much, just one of Will’s t-shirts and cotton underwear, both of which fell unceremoniously to the floor. You didn’t cover yourself as you were bared to the room, instead keeping your expression neutral and arms at your sides.
“Where do you need me?” You asked, voice low.
“Just where you are is fine,” he said, setting down his bag. “Now let’s see…”
First, he checked your pulse, fingers resting gently on your wrist as he looked down at his watch. When his fingers moved to your neck, you kept eye contact as he felt your lymph nodes, tracing up to your jaw, behind your ear and down to your collarbones.
His eyes watched your throat work as you swallowed hard, glancing at Will. Hannibal knew just how much you trusted him to guide you. You cared for him the same way he cared for you, and surrender was a price you gladly paid for it.
For a long time, you had a constant need to be in control of not just yourself, but also your surroundings. Every detail had to be accounted for; Every single possibility dissected and analyzed. It was essential for survival.
That was until you met Will, and you grew sick and tired of control. There were no more ruins to scurry out of, or prevent. Devotion was all that was left, and that was something Hannibal could understand.
“Open your mouth, please. Let’s see these teeth,” Hannibal instructed.
Once more, you did as told. He hummed in thought as he looked over your canines and front teeth. Then he stretched your lips back with two fingers so he could see all of your molars, too.
“Good,” he murmured under his breath, and for a brief, wild moment, you wanted to sink your teeth into his hand.
His thumb then swiped over your bottom lip, and it was then that you gave in to your urges. You nipped at it, holding it between your teeth for a moment.
“Ah, ah,” Will tsked, reaching over and grabbing the back of your neck firmly.
He gave you a stern look, and you let go of Hannibal’s thumb grudgingly.
Hannibal chuckled, delighted. “Sharp, as expected. Apologies, had to coax that out of her.”
Playing with fire, you thought, figuring that was exactly what he wanted. You wondered if you’d get a better taste of him at some point.
With a stethoscope — because he took his role very seriously — he checked your heartbeat and your breathing, both of which seemed to quicken a little at his nearness.
“No need to be nervous,” he said reassuringly, but his smile told you he was very much enjoying making you feel that way.
The end of the stethoscope was cold against your flesh, which made you shudder a little. Your nipples hardened, too, which was a detail he did not miss.
A soft, pleasured hum escaped you as his fingers grazed the skin right under your breasts, his touch not entirely clinically detached.
“Quiet, now. Let the doctor do his work,” Will chastised.
For his part, Hannibal inhaled deeply, closing his eyes momentarily.
“Someone’s in heat,” he noted, sharing a look with Will. “I could take care of it, if you like.”
Will’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Hmm, that explains why she’s been humping my leg. But is it necessary?”
“You wouldn’t want to leave her unattended, would you?”
You tried not to let a traitorous blush spread across your cheeks at Will’s analyzing gaze, dipping your chin slightly in confirmation.
“I might just have to check your temperature, too,” Hannibal added, tilting his head to one side. “Could I have you bend over the couch, please?”
Will nodded towards it, and off you went, kneeling on the armrest and placing your hands on the cushion.
You kept still as the doctor approached with slow, easy steps. His fingers traced the curve of your ass before dipping lower, to the source of your ache.
Will sat beside your head, tucking your hair behind your ear. He watched you shoot Hannibal a frustrated look as he teased you, fingers gliding up your slit. He gripped your chin just as you bared your teeth, wanting to bite once more.
Then, you swallowed back a low whine as he easily sank his middle finger into you. You heard his huff of amusement as you pushed your hips back needily.
“Running a little hot…” Hannibal mused. “We’ve got to remedy that, don’t we?”
You shot him another look, pleading this time. Your pupils were blown wide with desire, almost swallowing your irises, and your breaths came out long and slow.
You gripped one of Will’s arms, urging him towards you, desperate to touch him as well.
“Think you deserve a treat?” He murmured, raising an eyebrow. “Go on, earn it.”
Will scooted closer, your head now on his lap. You breathed in his familiar scent, and you licked his crotch through the thin fabric of his boxers.
Hannibal chuckled. “Oh, but she’s being so good…”
Will glanced up at him. “Hmm, she’s been showing off a little for you. Can’t let that become a habit.”
Hannibal’s hand retreated, and a complaint was starting to form in your throat when you heard the metallic clink of his belt, followed by the rasp of his zipper being pulled down.
You also heard a wet pop as he sucked your arousal off his finger, loving the taste of you. Oh, he’d definitely need to try it directly from the source, too.
“Not to worry, we’ll take good care of her,” he purred, bending closer to your ear. “Just needed some extra attention is all, didn’t you?”
You nodded, spreading your knees further apart. Will’s hand rested on your head as you continued to lap at him. You felt him hardening against your insistent tongue, lips tracing the outline of his shaft. The smell and the heat of him were making you delirious with lust, driving any sort of coherency out the window.
Behind you, Hannibal spread you open with both hands in order to get a better look at his next meal. He knelt, pushing his slacks down and gripping himself.
His hot breath blew against your soaked core for a mere second before he licked you clit to ass in one long, languid stripe. His expert tongue then dipped into the deep well of your cunt, and you felt the vibration of his groan.
He stroked himself as he continued his ministrations, closing his eyes as all his other senses were invaded by you.
You let out a choked whine, eyes fluttering closed as you pressed your cheek against Will’s growing bulge. He had you lift your head as he shifted his hips, pulling off his boxers and finally letting you get your reward.
You practically melted at the taste of him as you took him into your mouth — musky and slightly salty. You knew the exact way he liked to be tended to, guiding yourself by the sounds he made.
You moaned around him, and he gathered your hair in his fist, keeping it away from your face. He kept your head down for a moment when he was all the way down your throat, and you breathed slowly through your nose.
“There we go,” Will sighed, petting your head. “That’s it.”
Your mind went blank for a moment as Hannibal lapped up all your arousal with gusto. Will let you come up for air, gently pulling you up by the hair to meet his lips in a sloppy kiss.
Before your head descended once more, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and smiling beatifically. The same adoration was mirrored in his eyes as he tenderly ran the back of his finger down your cheek.
“Atta girl, taking it all so well,” Hannibal praised, standing up. “I think you’re ready for me.”
He slowly eased into you, letting out a low groan as he bottomed out. You sucked in a breath, adjusting to the delicious stretch. Instinctually, you moved against him, seeking much more friction than he was currently providing.
“Don’t have to do… much of the work myself,” He grunted, grabbing your hips in a half-attempt to slow you down. “So very eager, this one.”
“Loves to please. Everything she gets, she earns,” Will said proudly. “Makes it so much better, doesn’t it?”
“Well trained indeed.”
At such an angle, you could feel Hannibal reaching impossibly deep, hitting a spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull. You moaned against Will’s skin, teeth digging lightly into his inner thigh.
As bad as you might want it, you knew he wouldn’t let you make him come with your mouth. He was next in line after Hannibal, and he intended to leave a lasting impression. That wasn’t to say he didn’t want you to keep touching him, though.
Hannibal’s grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder, in which he chased his release. You were already clenching him hard, close to the edge yourself. Then one of his hands reached between your legs, rubbing your clit in quick, tight circles.
Heat spread throughout you like wildfire, all-consuming. You reached back to grip one of his forearms, unsure if it was a plead for mercy or for him to never stop. It didn’t take long for you to come undone, mouth slack in pleasure as you moaned wantonly, melting into the heady feeling of them both.
Soon after, Hannibal’s hips stuttered, and then they stopped when he was fully sheathed inside of you. You could feel him pulsate as he was gripped in his own euphoria, branding you much like Will had done countless times before.
Once more, Will kissed you, murmuring a soft good girl against your lips. Hannibal pulled out of you, panting as he bent forward to plant a kiss on your spine.
“I think she can give us another one,” he said. “In fact, I highly recommend it.”
Will nodded in agreement. “Doctor’s orders.”
He moved you onto the couch cushions as they switched places. Hannibal presented himself before you, leaning back with a lupine sort of smirk.
Will’s thrusts were swift and savage as you licked Hannibal clean. It was only polite to tend to the doctor after being so very helpful. Your tongue was especially enthusiastic as you neared your second orgasm.
His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough to bruise. By his more unrestrained sounds, you could tell he was right there with you. When he came, his body slumped forward, chest flush against your back.
His hot breath was against your neck as he pressed himself tighter against you. He was still buried to the hilt, making sure no drop was wasted.
When he unsheathed himself from you, you collapsed onto the couch, body spread between the two of them. You felt boneless and utterly sated, swimming in dopamine.
“Good job. That should hold you for some time, hmm?” Hannibal said, looking down at you resting on his lap.
Will huffed in amusement, caressing your legs. “You’ll find she’s quite insatiable.”
The two shared a look, all too happy to shoulder the so-called burden of your constant hunger.
“You should’ve just said you missed me, Doctor Lecter,” you said with a teasing grin. “Could’ve saved us the theatrics.”
He smirked. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that?”
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#hannibal fanfiction#hannibal smut#hannibal lecter x will graham x fem!reader#will graham x reader#hannibal lecter x reader#will graham smut#hannibal lecter smut#hannigram x reader#minors dni
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