#I thought of this and wrote it like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

majestyjun · 4 months

Text

# his girl !! … nsfw

synopsis. jaemin likes it a little too much when you’re a little dumb,,, after all, you’re his girl to spoil.

tw. minors dni + nsfw !! somewhat bimbo f!reader, cocky jaem, college au, breeding kink, size kink, fingering, dumbification, pet names (his girl, princess)

a/n. my apologies to feminism uM this was a bit out of my control at this point loll it’s been so long since i wrote an actual fic ahaha this took forever

################################

it wasn’t his really fault. if he tried, he could have prevented your cute little sobbing mess,,, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re cutest to jaemin when you’re a little useless. fat tears welling up in your pretty eyes, crying into his pillow because you just couldn’t understand anything on that last exam, your muffled whines still audible through your hiccups, it just didn’t make any sense! ’m gonna fail! and sitting at his desk, thighs slightly spread as his arm rests over the back of his desk chair, jaemin watches your little sob fest that inevitably comes around every exam season because it’s just so hard, isn’t it?

it wasn’t really his fault you failed again though… except for the fact that he could’ve had something to do with how you had next to no studying done,, given that you’re just so perfect when you’re preoccupied with jaemin making you feel a little too good, making you conveniently forget about the next day’s tests. and it certainly didn’t have to do with how often he lets you come over, slapping his thigh for your cute ass to come sit down, a hand on your hip slipping a little lower before you can even pick up your pencil. so maybe you couldn’t think straight when you already arrived late to your exam… not if jaemin fucked your cute brain out a little too hard the night before.

and it’s not like he meant to make you fail… it was going to happen either way. jaemin and his straight a’s, flawlessly making his way through his years and charming professors, recruiters, anyone who spoke to him could hardly resist slipping their business card into his hands. he really tried to tutor you at first, his darling girlfriend with a penchant for failure. somewhere mid way through a library tutoring session, your pretty lips pursed in a pout of confused frustration because for some reason, nothing he tried seemed to ever work itself out in your cute head. and maybe it had to do with your pretty lips also wrapped around his big cock and doe eyes looking up at him so sweetly rather than on the papers in front of you, fingers clinging to his thighs and his fingers threaded through your hair. and so maybe your little girlfriend-boyfriend tutoring sessions lost their original purpose, coming over to his apartment saying you’ll really try today,,, but jaemin knows better than that, and it’s not something he minds at all.

“c’mere princess,” jaemin gently murmurs as you peek out from behind his pillows, wet trails down your cheeks only enhancing your pretty features, your glossy eyes fixed on him as he pats his thigh invitingly, as if to beckon over his girl. when you hesitate, swaddled in his sheets, a soft sigh escapes his lips as a faint smile finds its way on his lips before he sits on his bed side. “this way better?” nodding tearily, your cheek resting on his shoulder when you crawl into his lap and arms, warmed by his presence and familiar heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “shhh, don’t worry about a thing, love,” jaemin breathes, tucking your face into the crook into his neck. and a slight smirk crosses his lips when you wrap your arms around his neck. his poor, dumb, sweet girl.

“i– i really t-thought i could do it–!” you whimper, “‘m so d-dumb.” true. “you’re just not meant for this…” jaemin murmurs, his hand resting on the small of your back comfortingly, “you’re meant for me, though.” lips pressed to the crown of your head, a reassuring kiss planted to your mind that’s a little useless for anything important. not that he’s against that.

“r-really?” your pretty eyes meeting his as you tilt your head back to meet his warm gaze, adoration warming his chest at your trust and faith in him, because he can’t help but love your innocence. “more than anything,” his fingers trail over your cheeks before holding your face as delicately as one would hold glass, “you know i love you, no matter what. even if you’re not meant for taking classes that don’t make sense to you. even if you’re always distracting me.” he smiles, unable to suppress the many memories of your cute self being the one obstacle in his life. ever. just as you’re meant to be forever.

“wouldn’t have put this here if i didn’t mean it,” he gently reminds you, fingers holding yours before pressing a delicate kiss to the promise ring sitting prettily on your ring finger, meant to keep his word. and he always means it,,, his sweet girl, can’t do even the slightest thing without him… just the way you’re meant to be. and the little smile that graces your perfectly shaped lips reminds him a little more how much he loves you, useless and all. “you don’t have to worry about a thing, i’ll always be here for you.”

and when his hand rubs your bare thigh slowly, soothing and reassuring, his lips slot against yours in a saccharine kiss, as if time pauses for a brief moment, time locked like your lips pressed to his. whispers exchanged between gasps of air, trapped in his arms against his broad chest, never a thought of hesitation. a string of saliva hanging from your parted lips for a second before his lips find yours once more, unable to bear parting for more than a breath of oxygen. heat pooling in your core, in only the way jaemin can trigger, thighs rubbing together in a weak attempt to alleviate the burning need, feeling warmth race beneath your skin wherever he touches because it feels so right if it’s him.

“j-jaemin,” you whimper, “want you.” your fingers slipping down to rest on his shoulder, because only jaemin can take care of you in the way you need, a smirk playing on his handsome features. “yeah? gonna let me take care of you, princess?” and without bothering to wait for a reply, his fingers deftly slip your top over your head when you obediently lift your arms up for him, turning in his lap to grind down on the prominent bulge in his jeans, skirt pushed up to let him rub your cute panties. thin, soaked fabric offering little resistance as you whimper and shift into his fingers, glistening slick wetting his fingertips.

“open up for me,” he murmurs, spreading your legs, licking his lips at the wet spot forming in your panties just the way he wants against his fingers. “j-jaemin, ‘s embarrassing–!” you whimper, avoiding his gaze as he grins lazily, still trapping you against his broad chest. “yeah?” his hand slips from your panties to discard his shirt, knowing his girl gets shy a little fast, “better now?”

skirt hiked up your thighs, two fingers buried in your soaked cunt, warmth spreading a little too quickly as he curls his fingers at just the right spot, only further encouraged as you whimper and arch into his arms, can’t hide anything from him, can’t you~? but as much as jaemin loves to spoil you,,, wouldn’t be as fun if you got tired from his fingers, would it?

and there’s just something to the way you whine his name when his fingers pull from your folds, tears brimming in your pretty eyes as you try to shove his hands back down, a little weak on deprived pleasure to really have an effect as he smirks and licks your arousal from his fingers, slowly as he makes you watch such a lewd sight. “don’t worry, love, i’ll make it worth it,” jaemin whispers, his voice dropping as his wet fingers lip behind your back to undo his belt. “just need to make sure i fit, yeah?” and in seconds he’ll have you on your back, legs thrown up over his shoulders, tip flushed an angry red as he drips precum over your glistening folds, the lewd squelch of your juices at the intrusion, your whimpers to his deep moans at your pussy taking the stretch of his girth, taking all his sanity to not fuck you full in a second,,,

“fuck…” jaemin groans as he bottoms out, the low sound emanating from his chest as his hands grip your hips a little tighter, teeth grazing his lower lip as he gazes down at the pretty mess he’s made of you. lips bruised from his kisses, remnants of wiped away tears glistening on your cheeks as your pretty eyes clench shut, adjusting to his size as incoherent mumbles fall free from your parted lips, begging just the way he loves to hear. “eyes on me, angel… that’s right,” he smirks as your eyelashes flutter open, so clearly flustered by the sight of your legs thrown over his shoulders, cock buried deep in your cute cunt. “j-jaemin, w-wanna feel you,” you whimper, even feeling so full’s not enough for you, after all,,, not until his fingers link through yours does it feel absolutely right.

lewd squelches of arousal, gasping mewls of flustered pleasure, your pretty voice filling his ears as jaemin roughly grips your waist, hips reading back to meet yours in a hard thrust as you cry out desperately, needing to feel him everywhere. “my pretty girl,” soft swears escaping between heavy panting breaths as jaemin fucks your cute cunt, tip roughly kissing your cervix as he thrusts deep, only for his girl.

“fuck, ‘m all yours, ‘okay? gonna be mine after this, gonna be mine forever, yeah?” “mm–! ‘m yours, j-jaem!” you hiccup, eyes glossy with tears of pleasure as your fingers tighten around his, the one touch keeping you grounded as jaemin roughly thrusts hard, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as his presses to yours. “gonna knock you up, make you mine—“ he groans, his voice cut off as your soaked cunt clenches down hard, “p-please, jaem— w-wanna feel full!” you wail, unable to hide the undeniable rush at the thought of being his, his forever, just meant to be his.

“yea? wanna be knocked up ‘nd let everyone know you’re mine, all mine—“ incoherently words slide off his tongue as if it’s the most natural act, as if he’s thought of knocking you up for so long now,,, what a lie it would be to say jaemin doesn’t regularly think of treating you like his darling, putting a real ring on your delicate finger and taking care of you the way you’re meant to be taken care of,, might as well put his baby in n make you his pretty wife, shouldn’t he? jaemin loves you a little too much, can’t even bear the thought of you lifting a finger when he could do it all for you.

he’ll take care of the rest, leave nothing for your pretty mind to ever worry or concern yourself with except being his,, “c’mon princess, cum for me, yeah?” and god, does it feel heavenly when your cute cunt clenches down as you mewl n cum for him all pretty, wet and warm release gushing around his cock as he fucks you through,,, n the way your fingers cling to his biceps has his head spinning, because fuck, you’re just a little too perfect for him, c’mon love, hold on to him a little tighter, need him.

and jasmin’s lost in another heaven when he fills you up, creamy n warm seed pouring in n painting your insides white with him, fingers gripping your hip hard enough to leave fingertip shaped bruises as you sob n milk his cock so well, hushed, panting swears groaned into your neck, chests heaving against one another, a sheen of sweat coating his skin pressed to yours as if there’s no way to possibly be closer.

“shh, i know, ‘m gonna keep you all full,” jaemin murmurs softly in response to your incoherent mumbles, his hand gently feeling your soft tummy, “feel how deep you take me… that’s my girl,” a light smirk on his lips when you whimper at the slight pressure as he pushes in, must feel so good to be a little too full of jaemin’s presence? and his sweet kiss to your cheekbone,,, sweet as he is, can’t hide the way lovesick grin he can’t hide when you meel at the feeling of his hips reading back again,,, after all, his pretty girl can take another, can’t you~?

reblog to sign up for jaemin’s princess treatment lol u just know he’s into spoiling his girl

#i almost wrote this for jeno but i was like jaem would be more fun lol sorry jeno #nct smut #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #also fr if this flops i will cry (again)

2K notes · View notes

stil-lindigo · 1 year

Text

shallow grave.

a comic about accepting when your relationship is dead.

creative notes:

all my other comics

store

#i wrote that monologue in like three minutes #pure train of thought but i actually like how it turned out #this has been sitting at 'almost done' for weeks now #i got sidetracked <3 but im back #and i hope that anyone who can relate to sai's plight is happier now #the only reference i have for an experience like this involves longterm friendships not romantic relationships #but the breakup still hurts #one of these days ill make a happy comic #comic art #lgbtq #queer comics #hearteaters #stillindigo art #stillindigo comics

4K notes · View notes

oatmilk-vampire · 17 days

Text

Steve, who accidentally overslept his alarm, who was supposed to meet his friends for weekly brunch 30 minutes ago: sorry, guys. I'm late.

Robin: this is how you tell me you might be pregnant? I expect much more fanfare next time.

Dustin: can I be the uncle? How about the godfather?

Eddie: don't worry, I'll be with you and our unborn child every step of the way. We'll be amazing parents!

Steve: ...

Steve: Fuck you guys

Robin: ew no

Dustin: I'm literally a minor

Eddie: you already have

#i thought this was funny #as much as I ship steddie i wrote this imagining purely platonic steddie #eddie just likes messing with him #steve can be cis or trans here #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #robin buckley #dustin henderson #platonic stobin #steddie incorrect quotes #stranger things incorrect quotes #platonic steddie #pre steddie

699 notes · View notes

poorly-drawn-mdzs · 6 months

Text

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl found dead in a hidden room.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #lan xichen #jin guangyao #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #qin su #EDIT: Tumblr published an earlier draft with only half the notes I wrote so: late entry on my JGY thoughts.#Unlike the mystic powers of the stockmarket (what the OG meme is referring to) I think this situation calls for more active investigation.#qin su is such a deeply tragic character to me and I really wish we got a bit more from her.#Love everyone who sent me messages about her after the last time she appeared.#I think she needs a spin off of her being a transmigrator SO badly.#MDZS has so many interesting characters - but it sometimes fails to give them the proper room to really develop past a role in the plot.#That's just the consequence of writing a story like MDZS. Not every character in a book *needs* to have a rich inner life and backstory!#To do so would bog down the story and obliterate any notion of pacing. It's just not possible.#Jin Guangyao (nee Meng Yao) is unfortunately not free from this leeway rule. He is the culprit of this murder mystery plot #and thus NEEDS to encapsulate the themes of the book. And personally he's a 7 out of 10 at best on this front (in the AD).#MDZS is about rumours twisting reality and working towards truth. And about how people & situations are rarely ever black & white #JGY has his motivations. He's well written in regards to his actions making sense for his character.#What started as good traits (drive to succeed & improve his image) became twisted over time (do anything to maintain his image)#and it's a good parallel to WWX! He has the same arc (with different traits)! Bonus points for IGY in that regard.#but man....by the time we confront this guy for murder there's not a lot of grey morality. He's just...deep in the hole *he* dug.#There's a beautiful tragedy to it! More on JGY in later comics - this is getting pretty long already!

1K notes · View notes

willowser · 18 days

Text

you call the baby growing in your belly a multitude of things, like lovebug and gum drop and sprout. cute things, that remind you of how tiny it is and how full of joy you are, and the names don't stop even after you find out what you're having.

katsuki doesn't follow along—at first. every silly little term out of your mouth is only met with an arched brow and a small shake of his head, the occasional roll of his eyes and the even rarer uplift of the corner of his lips.

"he," katsuki always continues. "he ain't gonna care what color his room is, do whatever y'want."

there aren't many appointments he's able to make, something you think eats at him more than you. being involved with a pro hero requires all kinds of sacrifices and you both knew that before your relationship started—but facing the realities isn't always easy; it bothers him, in some deep, dark way he's not able to talk about. even with you.

it's hard to tell how he feels at the first one he comes along for: he stands, quietly, eyes glazed over and lingering on the grainy image of your ultrasound, unmoving. when two little feeties are made clear in the picture, he silently crosses his arms and raises a hand to pick at the skin of his bottom lip—a nervous habit, one that gives him something to do and that hides his face just a bit.

he doesn't say anything for a long time. not until you're out in the car with your pictures in hand, going over them in the passenger seat.

"sooooo," you prod, "what'd'ya think? he's kinda...blobby, huh?"

he casts you a lazy glance, comes alive with a slow inhale before holding his hand out for the photos. the one with the little feet sticks out to him and he snorts, the corner of his lip raising. "yeah," he murmurs, before turning his attention back to the road. "but he's just a little bean, ain't he?"

#cw children #cw pregnancy #then once yall can see him moving around he starts calling him big foot LMAO #and he takes the lil photos with him 😌#keeps them at work 😌#and then once he's born he calls him all kinds of thing #like little snot LOL #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ willow writes #✿ theme: dad bakugou #from drafts i wrote this in feb hehe

745 notes · View notes

bleuu-moon · 5 months

Text

imagine you’re a civilian who’s held hostage with price, but you don’t know he’s in the special forces, until he’s forced to whisper it in your ear as a way to try and calm you down as you begin to hyperventilate. telling you how if your captors knew, they’d kill him straight away, but he knows his men are already out looking for him.

and then it all starts to make sense, the way he never seemed fazed by the two days that you’ve both been locked up for, the constant reassurance he offered when you began getting overly emotional, the checking in on you, the advice he offered to drink sips, not gulps and ways to conserve your energy.

he knows he gave you hope, as you become more talkative, making conversation about your outside lives. asking him personal questions that he doesn’t mind to answer for you, and seeing how you perk up talking about yours, he reciprocates the questions.

by day five, it feels like ten, but you’ve become a peace for one another. talking escapes you both, temporarily erasing the memory of your current situation.

you’re there, rushing to his side when he gets a blow to the face from one of your detainers, a result of his unsmart mouth, asking him how to help stop the bleeding from the gash on his cheek. he tries to shoo you away, ensuring he’s fine, but once you rip a piece of fabric from your t-shirt and press it to his injury, it’s almost like he rests into your touch.

he begins becoming protective, when a captor makes a beeline for you, he won’t hesitate but to use himself as a human shield. willingly taking another punch or kick a punishment for his distraction. when a small bottle of water and stale food is shoved underneath the gate, he’ll make sure you have more than he does, refusing to listen to your protests. whenever he’s able to sleep, he’ll place himself closest to the door, in front of you, yet always facing you. once you’re tired, he’ll urge you to sleep, making sure he doesn’t sleep for too long at the same time.

the only time that john panics in that cell, is when a gun is pulled up to your head, as a blackmailing tactic for information.

information that your brain doesn’t comprehend as your body is whirling in fight or flight. you watch on as he attempts to bargain with the man behind you, whilst still offering you comfort with the way his eyes soften as they meet yours, and a hand reaching out towards you.

and that’s when the cavalry arrive.

the chance to fall to your knees, free from the enemy’s grasp as he runs towards the gunfire, john lunging forwards to collect you in his arms. cradling you into his chest as you fall apart against him. he soothes you, telling you that it’s all over, that you’re okay.

you don’t leave johns side until you arrive at the hospital. glued to him from the moment he stood you up and walked out the cell with pulled into his side, hearing words of affirmation towards him from those who refer to him as “captain”. in the helicopter, he still had you right there, so close to him, you may as-well be one. that’s why the nurses have to pretty much pry you from him when you land.

conveniently, you both end up on other sides of the building, as your vitals are checked and monitored. not knowing that john was discharged almost straight away, and on his way to find you within the first couple of hours, to everyone else’s dismay.

he doesn’t know the emotion he feels the second he see’s you asleep, but all he knows is that the sight brings him to the verge of tears. the drip that’s connected to the top of your hand, the continuous beeping that mirrors your steady heartbeat, but most of all — how peaceful and healthy you look already. admiring you, he quietly finds himself beside your bed, his hand subconsciously wrapping around yours, instantly noticing the warmth that you now possess. and when you slightly flinch, and flicker your eyes open to meet his, the small smile that forms on your lips almost brings john to his knees.

and that, right there, is how he knows that even though the way you met wasn’t ideal, he wants you beside him for the rest of his life.

#this was one of them things that i wrote read it back got disappointed and then thought fuck it #i will write a longer version of this one day #love these two x #captain john price #this was done in like an hour so bare with meeee #price x reader #captain price x reader #cod prompts

1K notes · View notes

kingcael · 2 months

Text

artifact of wisdom

#cael does art #sheik #sheikah #the legend of zelda #light arrows #goddess harp #did u know I HC the light arrows and the goddess harp both represent what I consider the wisdom equivalent of the master sword or Ghirahim #and that sheik is an entity like fi or Ghirahim #I even wrote the start of a fic about it #my thoughts and theories on Zelda are vast and unspoken

676 notes · View notes

heartorbit · 3 months

Text

revstar emu save me

#please watch revue starlight #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #emu otori #proseka #Im so mad i wrote 8 million tags stream of consciousness style and then aposted this to the weong account #im not rewriting all that. you get NOTHING.#actually i will say again i have no idea why this kind of blee up on twit please WATCH TEVUE STAKRIGHTBTNGL #i KNOW 4 thiusand of you did not watch it Watch revue starlight Do not speak of yuri unless you partske in the revue #sorry. anyways #the jist of it was ahh the assignments -> making cosplay -> might post it here if i can take a bice photo for once in my life #because im proud of it. as mortifying as it is.#my best friend is cosplaying an im the clown Two lesbians walk into the metro convention centre(is that where toronto comicon is????)#Oh right i was thinking of making little drswings of pjsk charas or at least exs and printing them out in bulk on a dheet of paper #and coloring them in w markers and giving them to people at the pjsk meetup or vendors i get merch from..#i thought itd be fun. Also i swear to god i have a sheet of like MAGNET paper somewhere i want to make people emu magnets #Ok i fucking for real have to go to sleep i have to get up for class in 5 hours. wuit your college join my emo(daily affirmations)

714 notes · View notes

ruporas · 1 year

Photo

i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #despite it all though badlands rumble is like. the only universe where we get wolfwood thinking vash died first... and i think that means a #lot to their relationship and how it may bloom if there was more to badlands rumble considering vash literally saw wolfwood carrying a piece #of vash after his supposed death. u know! despite the short time they were together vash still meant so much to wolfwood that he couldn't #just move on or forget him in anyway. needed to keep a piece of him for himself and the rest of his days. but ofc vash lives and wolfwood #was like ill beat ur fucking ass into tomorrow. there's just so much honesty in vash being able to see that gesture bc he wouldnt know #otherwise just how much he might mean to him. ANYWAY. trimax with with the eternal pining featuring the two chapters where imo #where the both of them really fell for each other... i wrote my thoughts about this on another comic i did before #but vash solidifying his feelings during the hospital arc -- ww solidifies his when he realizes his allegiances are permanently with vash #98 my lovelies but also to me they are so one-sided bc ww pined like no tomorrow and vash only realizes after ep 23?24? his heart did tickle #whenever ww complimented his smile though #and tristamp vw my beloveds. it really just feels like they get the chance to be closer and closer and more honest with each other #with every version that comes about. in trimax they knew how little time they had but struggled so desperately to get closer. in 98 ww felt #more willing to forsake for vash. in badlands rumble theyre Angry but as mentioned earlier ^ more blatant truth... due to circumstances #mainly but has the chance to lead to discussions and tristamp literally. first day of knowing each other ww saves vash - 2 days later vash #saves ww like. Man. AND NOW THEY MAY POTENTIALLY GET EVEN CLOSER!!!! with s2....#ruporas art

5K notes · View notes

ribbonprincess · 12 days

Note

Secretly pining bestfriend!rafe?

soft!rafe soft!rafe soft!rafe soft!rafe soft!rafe soft!rafe soft!rafe

Thinking about bsf Rafe who's only soft with you,who lets you play your playlist while in the car,who carries you around when your feet hurt due to your shoes,who gives you new flowers every week.

You've been best friends since elementary school after you gave him a piece of your chocolate and befriended him since he was sitting all alone. You've been inseparable ever since.

You're so used to the princesses treatment he gives you,you don't think much of it. Not even when people point out how he's only like that with you. He knew he was smitten since the first time he ever laid his eyes upon you. He promised himself that he would protect you and love you,that he would raise your standards so high you wouldn't even dream of other guys.

And he kept that promise even tho he never had the guts to officially make you his.

He takes you to your favorite cafe every Tuesday,takes you to the salon and pays for whatever you're getting,guides you through a crowd by your hips,let's you sleep on his lap while you're on the boat,has learned how to bake your favorite dessert in secret when he was 15 to surprise you for your birthday.

Once during Christmas he booked a suite on the quiet side of a mountain for only the two of you,where you enjoyed spending the days just napping and cuddling with each other while watching a movie on the projector. You took a stroll around the tiny town at the feet of the mountain, snooping around for cute little trinkets and local alcohol. That same night you both slow danced in the snow and that night was the night where you both understood that maybe,maybe you were each other's soulmate.

464 notes · View notes

milkteamoon · 17 hours

Text

The first and only girl Martin goes out with is openly bisexual.

He doesn't know if she counts, if he's being honest — it wasn't a crush, he knows that, and years down the line, when he thinks back to it, he can't remember them ever having a proper conversation about the whole status of their single-night relationship. He knows she had short hair, and sat in front of him in math class, and needed a date to the fall semi-formal so she'd asked if he was busy that weekend, and he'd said no, and then she'd asked if she could borrow a pen, and he'd said yes. He couldn't remember her name if he tried.

He does remember the pink and blue bracelet on her wrist that she'd worn to the event itself, and then to get ice cream after, where he'd sat on the curb of some old parking lot at the edge of town with her and her friends and her friends' boyfriends and her friends' boyfriends' friends, none of which were his friends, because Martin didn't have many of those. Except maybe the girl whose name he couldn't remember. Though he's not sure if maybe-probably-not-girlfriends count as friends too when you're in high school.

"D'you like it?" she'd asked once she'd noticed him staring, holding up her wrist and not seeming to care as ice cream dribbled down her spoon and fingers.

"It's nice," Martin had said, because he's nothing if not honest. "Did you make it?"

She'd nodded. "It's a bi flag," she'd explained. "I'm bisexual."

"Oh," Martin had said.

"You know what that is, right?" she had asked. "Like, when you like boys and girls?"

"I know," Martin had said, even if it had maybe slipped his memory until she'd brought it up. "That's cool."

And then she'd nodded, and ate her ice cream, and Martin had taken her home with as little a fanfare as he had picked her up earlier that evening. And then winter break had rolled around, and she'd been put in another class the following semester, and then life and bills had finally caught up with him and there wouldn't be another semester after that. He'd never seen her again, so he'd never got a chance to ask. Never got a chance to choke down that knot in his throat when he'd left her house that evening, unable to get the words out.

He doesn't remember her name anymore, but he does remember the jealous ache he'd felt at her certainty.

Martin's first boyfriend is definitely gay.

That's how they meet each other, really — in a gay bar, where Martin has met plenty of other men (testing the waters, he's been telling himself; no harm in a little exploration) and gone home with them, except this one asks for his number afterward, and this one calls him back, and this one actually seems to want to go out for drinks the next week, and the week after that, and before Martin knows it he's quite certain that he's dating this man. It's wonderful, whirlwind of an experience. It's exhilarating.

It's bloody terrifying.

And it's not being with a man that sets his anxiety on edge. Martin...Martin likes men. That's definitely a part of his identity that he's been able to sort out, over the years. Martin likes men, and he likes dating men, and he likes having sex with men, and he'd probably even marry a man, if he had the chance, if that's where one of these loose and languid relationships end up.

It's just—

It's just that—

It's just that Martin always seems to be the odd one out in these groups. It's just that when Martin meets up with his boyfriend's friends at the bar, when they're all laughing and sharing jokes and clinking their drinks together in some toast that Martin had missed the dedication to, they all just...get it somehow. They know who they are. They all have some special word for themselves that fits them like a tailored suit: Jacklyn is a butch lesbian, and Lee is trans, and Tom is a bear, and Jordan is gay and genderqueer and Collin is a drag performer and—

He's a few drinks in, to put it lightly, when he leans over to his definitely-boyfriend and asks him how he knew he was gay.

"How did I know?" he echoes, taking a sip from his fizzy drink. "Easy, I liked men." And then he laughs like Martin has just told a funny joke, and maybe he has and doesn't realize it, so he tries to laugh along. Tries to ignore the ache in his chest.

Martin wishes it were that simple. And when the two of them break up, Martin wishes that he ached just as badly over the relationship too.

Tim and Sasha are bi. Well, no, Tim is bi, and Sasha is—

"Pansexual," Sasha says through a mouthful of reheated spaghetti. She holds a finger up as she chews, swallows, and then adds, "Well, I mean. It's like the same genus, I guess."

"Like a leopard and a cheetah," Tim chimes in, leaning over to put an arm around her shoulders. She puts a hand against the side of his face to put some space between them, knocking his glasses askew.

"Leopards and cheetahs are different genuses," she tells him. "You're thinking of leopards and jaguars."

"Nuh uh."

"Uh huh."

"Nuh uh nuh uh—"

"Uh huh uh huh uh huh—"

And it's—

He likes Tim and Sasha. They're easy to exist around. They don't make him feel like he's not welcome at the end of the lunch table, or like he has to be anything more than simply himself in their presence. Call it bonding over the shared trauma of all being trapped down here together. Tim's jokes about Jon never letting them see the sun are starting to feel less like jokes these days, and more like statements of fact.

Then Tim leans over, seating his chin in his knuckles, and says, "So, Martin, you going to pride this year?"

And then all of those nice, floaty feelings suddenly come crashing out of solution and dropping down into the pit of his stomach. It must show on his face, because Tim's smile falls as he backpedals.

"O-or not!" he says, holding his hands up peaceably. "I mean— geez, sorry, I usually think I'm pretty good at noticing these things, but if you're not—"

"What? Oh, no no, you're fine, I'm definitely—" There's something on the tip of Martin's tongue that he can't put a word to, hasn't been able to put a word to for a long time. "...not straight. Er, I— I like...guys, at least...?"

A smile curls across Tim's face — amused, but not cruel. "Hey, that's at least one thing we've got in common," he says and holds up his fist for a bump. The spark of anxiety hasn't quite fizzled away, but it's pushed far enough down that Martin feels he can humor him.

To his equal relief and horror, Jon strolls into the room not a minute later and sticks himself firmly in the crosshairs of Tim's sights.

"Boss-man," he greets.

"Tim," Jon greets back, neutrally. He strolls over to the kitchenette, digging out a tea bag out of the cabinet.

"Are you going to pride this year?"

Martin chokes on his drink.

"No," Jon says, retrieving a tea bag and filling his mug as if Tim had simply asked him about the weather.

"C'mon," Tim purrs. He reaches over and gives Jon a tug by his belt loops. "You're just gonna sit at home all weekend and leave us to have all the fun?"

"I don't particularly find crowds 'fun,'" Jon retorts, batting away his hand. He picks up his mug. "You'll have to suffer without me."

"How will we ever go on," Tim laments.

"You'll manage," Jon says, then promptly retreats to his office.

Martin simply sits there with his mouth hanging open, only daring to speak once he hears the final click of the door pulled shut. "...Jon...?"

Tim looks over to him, eyebrow quirked. "What?"

"Jon."

"Oh." A smirk tugs at the corner of Tim's lips. "You didn't know?"

"Wh— no!" It's not even that Martin has ever really assumed that Jon is straight. It's just that, out of people in the office to be open about their sexualities, there's Tim and Sasha, and then there's Jon. It's just— it's Jon. "Did he tell you that?"

Tim shoots a look to Sasha. "Well, no," he admits, "but you know how it is, you work with someone long enough and you just sort of...get a vibe, yeah?"

Sasha nods at this assessment. "Plus the fact that he did agree to go on a date with David that one time."

"Oh god, haha! I forgot about that."

"He's gay, right?" Sasha says, looking to Tim.

"I'm pretty sure he mentioned an ex-girlfriend once," Tim notes, poking his fork into his salad. "Bi, maybe...? I'm going to go with bi."

"Could also be pan," Sasha notes.

Tim thinks on this for a moment. "Mm, no, definitely bi I think. My bi-dey senses are tingling. Sorry Sash," he concludes, earning him a light kick to the shin from Sasha at the pun. He shoves a forkful of salad in his mouth before redirecting his attention back to Martin. "So, Martin. Pride, yay or nay?"

"Uh—" Martin blinks, viscerally aware of himself once more. He's not sure how to put I've never really thought about going into so many words that doesn't make him sound incredibly lame or formerly catholic, so in the end he decides on a redirect. He clears his throat. "I'm...not sure? Haven't really decided."

"That's fine," Tim says with a half shrug. "Though we'll be there, so if you do end up going, just text us and we'll meet up, yeah?"

There's a little plant inside Martin, something green and budding, but never able to bloom — always pruned too early, or watered too late, or bitten off by the frost. But some days, he thinks about opening the curtains and letting in the sun. Some days, he thinks about letting it bloom, finally, fully—

"Yeah," Martin says softly, looking up from his open palms. "Yeah, that'd...that'd be good."

And despite himself, he smiles.

Martin is—

Martin is quite certain he has never been sweatier in his life.

It's a wonderful time. It's bright. It's beautiful. He's seen so many colors and grins and glitter on more people than he can count today. People holding hands and people kissing and people dressed in outfits he can't even begin to describe, genders he can't even begin to put names to, flags he can't even begin to guess the meaning of. His heart feels so big in his chest he could die, pushing on the bars of his rib cage with each resounding thu-thump, and it's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful—

(And so very isolating. So very lonely when he feels like he's not meant to be there, like he wasn't invited, like he's invading this space carved out in neat rows of labels that he can't even straddle properly to get in line. He doesn't— he can't—)

Martin finds a moment of shade just as he feels he's teetering on the edge of heat exhaustion. He stumbles under the awning, smearing the sweat and residual glitter out of his eyes as he leans his head back against the wall. Music hums from the street over, voices carry on the warm summer air. He really needs to find something to drink, so he can appreciate it more instead of focusing on the way his shirt clings to his skin. He really should find Tim and Sasha, before they get off into any trouble.

Someone lets out a huff next to him as they lean back against the wall, and Martin peels open an eye to look.

And then both his eyes snap open at once, double taking at the man standing next to him. He doesn't seem to notice him at first, too focused on fanning himself with some pamplet he'd snagged along the way, but then his gaze shifts sideways, and the pinched expression smooths out into one of blank bewilderment.

Jon blinks, wide eyed. "Martin."

Okay, well that at least solves the issue of whether or not Martin is supposed to be pretending not to know him or not. He clears his throat, trying to smile. "Jon...h-hi."

It's not even the fact that— okay, well, yes, seeing Jon at a queer event is pretty weird, but seeing Jon outside of work, in jeans no less, is certainly not helping the sensation that Martin might very well be hallucinating this interaction. He looks him up to his thick-lensed glasses, down to his plain sneakers that have seen better days, and even pinches himself for good measure. Jon doesn't move. Martin isn't sure that he himself would be able to move either, even if he wanted to.

Then Jon's brow furrows, and he looks around. "Are Tim and Sasha around...?"

"Oh, n-no, they went off," Martin gestures vaguely in the direction he'd last seen them, "somewhere."

"Ah."

"Mm."

"Right."

"...What...are you doing here, exactly?" Martin finally asks in some burst of unsourced courage.

Jon's winces, red-handed. Not that Martin would ever say anything to Tim or Sasha about their boss going to pride without them on his own time — it's honestly none of his business — but he also knows that if the two of them suspect something is up, they'll never let either of them live it down.

Jon sighs, shoulders drooping. "I...an old friend, she— she didn't wish to come alone this year, and apparently I'm the only other queer she knows that doesn't enjoy getting plastered off my arse at these types of events, so—" Jon shrugs lightly.

There's something about the way Jon says it, the only other queer, that leaves a funny, prickling sensation in the center of Martin's chest, and it's not just the heat giving him a rash. It's just...it's nice. It's nice the way he says it, all casual like he's just giving Martin another report to follow up.

Jon pushes the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, giving Martin a sideways glance up and down. He redirects, "You know, I would have thought you'd be more, er..."

"More...?"

"...Well, dressed up, I suppose?" He gestures to Martin's outfit — a pair of khaki shorts with pockets stuffed to the brim in emergency snacks, a green t-shirt with the local football team logo, an old pair of sneakers he really needs to replace — in a vague enough gesture to slip just under the line of insulting, but still enough to make Martin feel horribly seen. Granted, Jon isn't much better in his plain blue polo, but the fact of Jon being in jeans at all is currently eclipsing the fact that he's a tad underdressed for the event.

But—

But it's not that Martin doesn't want to. It's not that Martin doesn't want to be a part of this moment, this moment, this microcosm in the middle of London of so many people like him. It's something he's always wanted. Something he's always dreamed of, something he'd thought about all the way back in his high school bedroom when he'd had all these feelings knotted up in his chest that he couldn't put a word to, still can't put a word to, doesn't know how to put a word to even though it's right there in front of him if he could just stretch out his fingers—

"I thought about it," he admits with a shrug. Tim and Sasha were each dressed in a blinding shower of color and glitter, and he knows they'd never make him feel out of place. "It's just...there's too many—" He stops, takes a deep breath, and tries to ignore the thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. "There's too many words, I guess?"

Jon pauses his lazy fanning, looking up at him. "Too many words?" he parrots.

Martin wets his lips. "Like— like— like, everyone has a word for themselves, y'know? They have a flag, they have a group, they have— have people that they can relate to, and then you feel like you find something that almost right, but it's not perfect, and you— you—"

And you don't fit in, Martin doesn't say, because the rushing stream of words has suddenly stopped up in his throat, choking him. And you definitely aren't straight, but you aren't queer like everyone else is. You aren't queer in the right way.

Jon looks at him for a considerable moment, and suddenly Martin is all too aware of his body, his bones, his sweat, the itchy prickling of his skin—

Jon sighs as he gives him a half shrug. "So don't be anything."

The music from the street over lulls into a faint hum.

"What?" Martin says.

"So don't be anything," Jon repeats, enunciating as if he thinks that Martin misheard him. He frowns as he chooses his next words. "I'm not...it's...I..."

Martin waits quietly.

"I..." Jon says, "I guess when I was just starting to— to figure things out, I was certain I was gay. And then I went to uni and I had...a multitude of other things to address, and then for a bit I was...straight? I guess? And that was a whole thing, and then I was bi, and— well, I guess I'm technically still bi, but it's not...not exactly correct—" He frowns, looking up at him. "I guess...it just doesn't really matter to me? You don't...have to be anything."

Martin opens his mouth. He closes it. "But—" he says, tongue feeling thick in his mouth, "but—"

But then I have to be me, he doesn't say, even if the words are trying to push out past his teeth. But then the only thing I can be is me.

"...But that's scary," Martin says without meaning to, only hearing the words as they pass through his own lips. His eyes blow wide as he looks down at Jon (at his boss), and knows the simmering heat flushing down to his chest has nothing to do with the weather.

Jon stares at him for a quiet, considerate. And then he turns his head away and lets out a very undignified snort.

Martin feels his world tip onto its side.

It had to be a snort. It can only be a snort, even if Jon doesn't snort because Jon doesn't laugh, and Jon doesn't laugh because Jon doesn't smile, and Jon doesn't smile because Jon is typically too busy snapping at him over some stupid mistake he's made for the umpteenth time—

Jon looks up at him again, and he's downright grinning. Martin is quite certain he needs to be doused over the head with a bucket of ice water, or pinched hard enough to draw blood, or sent off to the hospital to get his head checked out because what the fuck. What the fuck.

"As my grandmother was so fond of reminding me, 'if it weren't scary, everyone would be doing it,'" Jon says finally, peeling off his glasses to wipe the sweat from the lenses onto his shirt. He places them back on his nose, then pushes himself up. "You should find Tim and Sasha," he says. "And I should find Georgie before I get left here. Again."

"Uh," Martin says, still trying to mentally recover from the fact that Jon smiled at him, and now everything feels like its been knocked into an alternate universe slightly to the left. His head feels weird. His chest feels weird. "Right."

"There's a—" Jon points a thumb behind himself, "a place we can cut through, if you want to—"

"Oh. Oh, yeah! Yeah, lead— lead the way."

It's not perfect, Martin thinks.

It's not perfect, but it's close. It's close when they step out of the alley back onto that crowded street, when the colors all bleed into a mess of a million different rainbows as far as the eye can see. It's close when they both get sprayed with glitter, Jon scowling and swearing as he tries to get it off himself and sending Martin laughing so hard that his sides ache. It's close even with the heat, even with the noise, even with the shouting because there's laughter in between laughter in between laughter again—

"Would you like a button?" a girl with green hair asks as she sits behind a table of every flag Martin has ever seen and then some. He takes a moment to look over each one carefully. Jon wanders up beside him, looks them through, and carefully selects a pink, purple, and blue one, to which he silently deposits in his pocket.

Martin picks up a plain rainbow one, considers it, and then pins it to the left side of his shirt.

It's not perfect, he thinks, but it's close enough.

#thought too much about martin being demiromantic and complicated during my writing warm up and accidentally wrote ten million words about it #oopsies #sorry in advance if this has like. ten million typos in it i cant be assed atm #the magnus archives #tma #my writing

538 notes · View notes