#and this is your good reason? that's where you throw your hands up and go well. i'd understand?

[gavisfanta]

WHY I LOVE YOU - GAVI

summary: you and gavi are parents and its a normal day of driving your kids to school and finding out about your pregnancy...

warnings: none

"Pero papá, no quiero ir a la escuela." Ale cried out and Gavi let his head hang low while he exhaled deeply.

"No whining around, you're gonna be late." Gavi said and Ale threw his head back.

"But I don't wanna go!" He yelled and was on the verge of tears.

"I dont know how your mother does this every morning." Gavi mumbled in a low voice and then looked away for a second. "You know what, fine. But if you stay at home, you wont be going to practice tonight either." Gavi started walking towards the door and Ale immediately jumped up to get dressed.

"Thought so" He whispered and walked downstairs. He saw you standing in the kitchen, facing the stove while making scrambled eggs for the kids and Gavi.

You jumped a bit as his arms wrapped around you from behind and then put his hand on your lower stomach.

"That smells so good." He moaned out as he loosened his arms again and went to the fridge to pour himself a glass on cooled water.

"What time is it?" Ale came running down the stairs, followed by Ana who was still sleepily rubbing her eyes.

"You still have an hour and a half, chill." Gavi mumbled and then went over to the stairs to pick up Ana and spin her around.

She was about to turn 5 but you absolutely loved the way Gavi treats her. He treated her like she was still 2 and thats adorable in your opinion.

"Did my princesa wake up too?" Gavi smiled at his daughter.

"He splashed water over my face." Ana pointed at Ale who smiled while sitting on his chair at the dining table.

"Ale, I told you to stop waking people up with water." Gavi walked over to him and sat down Ana on her seat. Ale on the other hand was about to turn 7. He was more of the wild kid while Ana was calm and collected.

"It was an accident." He crossed his arms and Gavi raised his brows.

"If I throw you into the pool was it an accident too?" Your husband pointed outside in your garden where the huge pool was.

"No, that's mean!" Ana pulled the bottom of gavis shirt and he looked at her while he smiled.

"You're such a good kid." He leaned down to kiss her head before walking back to you into the kitchen. You were currently cutting some tomatoes while the scrambled eggs were already on the plates.

"You need help amor?" He asked but instead of replying, you put a plate between the two of you and nudged your head towards the kids.

"Okay boss" Gavi smiled while putting down the plate infront of Ale and soon you returned with all plates in your hand and put them down infront of each person.

After you were all done with eating Gavi stood up and walked over to you.

"Thanks babe, that was amazing." He kissed your temple and you smiled. "Okay kids, lets carry our empty plates into the kitchen and then brush our teeth." Gavi said and grabbed his plate and yours too. You smiled as he also took their forks out of safety reasons.

You watched all three of them go upstairs and then you went to the kitchen to clean everything up.

"You take this" Gavi told Ale and gave him his electric toothbrush that was made for kids and he sat down on the toilet seat and took Ana's toothbrush.

"Come here amor." He waved her over and she walked to him, she was still half asleep, her eyelids hanging heavily and she barely managed to hold herself on her own feet.

"Open up" Gavi told her and as she did he began brushing her teeth since she somehow still wasn't able to do that on her own.

"Why can't you just brush your own teeth?" Ale asked Ana after he put his toothbrush down on the edge of the sink.

"Did you brush your teeth good?" Gavi asked while he then reached Ana a plastic cup full of water and she then stood on the little staircase infront of the sink to spit out the remaining toothpaste.

"Yes, look!" Ale said and opened his mouth, showing his teeth. Gavi nodded his head while he grabbed a hair brush and then began brushing Ana's soft brown hair.

"What hairstyle do you want to do today?" Gavi asked as he took her hair into his hand.

"Can you make the one mom made yesterday?" Ana asked as she looked at herself in the mirror. Ale sat down on the toilet seat as he watched his dad and sister.

"What did mom do yesterday?" Gavi turned to look at Ale who smiled a bit.

"A braid, you should remember that." As soon as Ale said braid, Gavi made a face.

"I mean I can try but it wont be as pretty as mom's braid okay?" He looked at her through the mirror and she nodded her head.

"Why isn't mom doing it today then?" Ale asked Gavi as he began try to braid her hair. You had taught him once how to and he often tried to braid your hair and he got visibly better at it.

"Because she's tired, her cleaning the kitchen takes less energy then dealing with the two of you." Gavi answered, Ana yawned a bit to which Ale shook his head.

"Is she alright though?" Ale asked and Gavi nodded his head as he smiled. It was heartwarming to him to see that his children actually cared about the wellbeing of their mother.

And after Gavi was done with the braid he looked at it proudly. There were some parts that weren't perfect but he was satisfied.

"It's not that bad is it?" He turned Ana around so that she was facing Ale with her back. His son admired the braid and nodded his head.

"You did a good job dad!" He said loudly and grinned. Gavi brought down his hand a bit to mess up his hair.

"Okay, grab your bags and lets go to school!" He clapped his hands together and went downstairs while the kids ran into their rooms.

"Babe, you need some help?" Gavi yelled as he just walked into the kitchen. He saw you putting the final plate into the dishwasher and close it up. The kitchen looked clean, you turned around to face him and opened up your arms.

"No, I'm done, are you driving them to school?" Gavi hugged you as you asked that.

"Yeah I am, you go back to bed. You look a bit pale." Gavi moved his head back a bit while still standing close to you.

"I will. Thank you for driving them." You said and pulled him back to yourself again. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he held you close.

Just a few seconds later you heard steps coming down the stairs. You opened your eyes and saw Ana smiling at the two of you, her bag in her hands.

"Okay, lets go dad." You patted Gavi's back who immediately raised his head and turned around. He crouched down infront of Ana and took her bag, she turned around and slipped her arms into the straps.

"Where's your brother?" He asked and just then Ale came down the stairs.

"I'm here, bye mom!" Ale just simply waved at you while walking to the door.

"Bye Ale" You smiled at him. Ana on the other hand walked over to you and you crouched down to give her a kiss.

"Bye mom, love you!" Ana smiled while she walked in front of Gavi to the door. However as Gavi looked back at you, he walked back to you real quick to give you a kiss.

"Go back to bed and try to catch some sleep yeah?" Gavi smiled at you and began walking backwards to the door.

"I will, bye!" You waved at him and he left.

"Okay, are you both ready? Last day of the week." Gavi mumbled while sitting into the car and fastening his seatbelt. He looked back at both of the kids sitting in their seats.

"Yes!" Both yelled in excitement and Gavi drove them to school. After he returned home again, he found you in bed, looking at the tv infront of the king sized bed.

Money heist was playing, so as soon as Gavi entered the room you stopped the tv and looked at him walking closer to you.

"How is my love?" He kneeled down next to your side of the bed and pressed a kiss on your lips.

"Can I be honest?" You turned your head to look at him, he nodded his head. "I think I'm pregnant again."

Gavi froze for a couple of seconds, he broke the eye contact and looked down at his hands which were on top of the mattress.

"Did you take a test yet?" Gavi asked while you looked deep into his eyes and shook your head. "Let's take one, come on." He stood up and you pushed the covers down from your body.

Gavi went into the bathroom first and grabbed a pregnancy test from the top of the shelf so nobody was able to see it. You kept two up there at all times incase anybody or you needed it.

"Okay, here" Gavi handed you it and you went to sit down on the toilet and Gavi sat down at the edge of the bathtub while looking at you.

You didn't mind him watching you doing whatever, he saw you from all angles already so there wasn't much to hide.

He smiled at you as you finished taking the test and put it down onto the counter so that the upside was facing the counter.

"What are you all smiley for?" You asked and walked over to Gavi to hug him. one of the things your friends noticed was that you two were still very affectionate with eachother. Some people grew apart after they had kids and you two didnt at all.

"It'd be so nice to have a third kid." Gavi mumbled and kissed your forehead. Gavi and you have talked about having more children previously. You both agreed that three was the max number of children.

"It would be amazing. I'm just not as excited for the actual giving birth part but whatever." You joked and Gavi chuckled.

"I braided Ana's hair today, did you see it?" He changed the topic to distract you from the test.

"No I didn't." You gasped and covered your mouth. He shook his head and parted his lips into a thin line.

"I did such a good job, also, I need to leave for practice at 11. So you'll have to pick up the kids." Gavi informed you ro which you only gave him a nod.

After enough time had passed which contained the two of you just chatting, you looked at the pregnancy test infront of you.

"I can't do it, you do it." You tokd Gavi and took a step aside, he took the pregnancy test between his fingers and then turned ut around slowly.

Pregnant.

"Oh my god, I'm pregnant." You jumped into Gavi's arms while you smiled widely.

"You're pregnant." Gavi repeats while a big smile covers his own lips. After he loosened his grip around you, he immediately grabbed your face and kissed a long and passionate kiss on your lips.

"Oh my god, we need to go and shop for the baby. Do you think it will be a boy or a girl? I'm hoping for a boy because then-" You talked way too fast, before you could continue Gavi crushed his lips into yours again.

"I'm so excited." He stated after the kiss. Gavi was so happy that he was gonna be a father of three. You and him had planned having three children even before Ale was born. Even tho you didn't try to get pregnant right now, it happened at that was so beautiful about it.

Things happen and sometimes they're the best things to ever happen.

#barca #fc barcelona #football #gavi #futbol #fanfic #mustread #espana #pablo gavi #gavi x reader #gavi fluff #pablo gavira #pablo martín páez gavira #gavi fanfiction #fanfiction

[sophieeeet]

My Reason to Exist °‧🫧

Pairing: Husband! OT5 x Wife Femreader x your baby

Summary: You always endured your Husband's protectiveness but you didn't know that you have to cope up with your kids too

Genre: Fluff, Kissing , protectiveness from your husband's as well as you kids

Warning: Nonidol! OT5 x Nonidol! Fem!reader, Husband x Wife x Baby/toddler trope, sweet fluff, protectiveness, mention of (baby , princess, wife )

CHOI YEONJUN

Two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they're not wrong. your son has his father's looks from his fox eyes to his pouty lips -Yeonjun swears he has your nose and ears but anyway-and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can't count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with Yeonjun against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what's happening right now for example.

you're out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor-especially since Yeonjun got this new type of paint for s/n and it's quite an endeavour to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can't take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, "what's a pretty lady like you doing alone?"

"buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone."

he quickly frowns, "don't be so stingy doll," his hand extends towards your arm, "I can show you a good time; I promise--"

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, "what's your wrong with your kid, man?!" he yells at the person behind you.

He then grumbles, "ruined a potential good night."

"My kid was absolutely right in what he did," you hear Yeonjun’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you're pulled into a chest you're all too familiar with, ""junnie-"

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, "that last throw was very good, son ! throw another one but just below his stomach."

A Cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband's face as your boy prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son's face as he yells, "don't you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!"

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn't be the son of Choi Yeonjun if he doesn't manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

So Yeonjun picks both you and your son and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, "wait, ‘junnie, the groceries!"

"we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!"

your son grumbles, "but I want to hit the rude man!"

"me too, champ, but-" Yeonjun’s sweat-drops and glances behind him, "I doubt the angry security guards wouldn't like that!"

CHOI SOOBIN

Your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

In a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

The sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. Luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially-in any argument at least one will try to win you over. As you know the girls have inherited their father's professional yapping mechanism since birth, the trinity force uses that card whenever they're in an argument.

If it’s Soobin trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. If it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

So it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

You turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

You’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

She smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

Soobin’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

Your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

She grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

The woman gasps, “how dare you-!”

You cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

Your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

A snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

Your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman,

“shrek! You look like shrek!”

Then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

Your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final -subtle-blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline Anymore, "

"Also ma’am you should look at yourself in the mirror before saying something to Others especially my wife, as you can see she gave birth to my beautiful daughters and she looks like a absolute Goddess to me and we actually didn't ask for any of you opinion, so keep them to you shallow of a life and excuse us please” Your husband concludes.

It seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as She starts muttering how the society is and the new generation is disrespectful.

A moment of silence is shared across the four Of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil Girls!”

They squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

Soobin chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

You pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

The colour drains from your husband’s face, and he Watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

You giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. He reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

CHOI BEOMGYU

Your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

However, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

For example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

Not to mention that your son wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

It was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. He was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

You have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

Even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

He giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

He laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

You nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?-“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a-“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

You son squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

The guy was about to reply to your son, but Beomgyu pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “My son’s right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

The guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him. On the other hand, your-shameless-husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

You hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before Beomgyu makes even more of a bigger scene.

You also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

The guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky-since he is too scared to cuss out your husband. Once the man is out of sight, Beomgyu ruffles his child’s hair, chuckling, “good job, Bud.”

Your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks Away, “…thanks.”

You’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “Gyu, literally why?” you grumble, patting you Kid who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged Beomgyu.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” Beomgyu grumbles, staring down at his and your little version.

Unfaltering, Your son looks up at him, “dad, I want ice cream.”

“- or else I’ll call Yeonjun uncle to-.”

“god damn it, listen here you-“

You laugh at their bickering

KANG TAEHYUN

There is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both- are very smart-as they compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally talk senses in your child whenever it comes to taking care of you whenever he wasn’t around and your son, in turn, lecture his father to stop being clingy to his mother as he is old enough to sleep by himself.

It's eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

So their very smartass nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

A person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

For example, today when the three of you are sprawled in grass of the public park as all of soak the sun up, as you Are making a flower crown for both your nerds when suddenly you feel a tap on your shoulders

You turn to look at the person being a men with creepy smile gracing his face, “yes?”

He clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I wanted to ask where are you from ?”

“Um-I ‘m sorry but ---”

“Don’t worry love, I’m gonn’ treat you good” as he lays his hand on your shoulders, your about to give him a good push before you son speaks up

“take your disgusting hands off my mother shoulders , you unnatural looking fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s presence as he pulls you behind him as the man hurriedly takes his hand off your shoulders, slightly annoyed as well as scared from your husband's buff figure from the two more company of your son and husband.

“who are you to lay your limping hands on my wife and speak to her so casually?” Taehyun presses, and the man cowers away at the intimidating look Taehyun gives him as well as his dead stare as the man grumbles a quick Apologise to your husband.

As the man tries to walk away your son stands in his tracks, hand folded and just like his father, that boba eyes glaring at the man

“ Aren’t you going to apologise to my mother properly for causing her inconvenience ? Don’t you have any manners, or not ? Is this how you treat a woman ?” Your son questioned him making the man conscious of his action followed by your husband’s comment

“ Well my son just said something, aren’t going to answer ? Or should we make-” Meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything but the man immediately replies in fear.

“I’m so sorry for the inconveniences I caused you ma’am I didn’t mean to do that, please forgive me ” bowing his head to you as you bowed back a little to acknowledge and accept his apology as the said man in question runs away after he saw your husband nod his head at him.

Your son hugs you tightly and glares at the man’s retreating figure “ Dad why did you let him go off so easily? ”

You immediately reply before Taehyun does “ he already apologized my Little man , so that’s enough of torment you and your dad gave him by your stares”

You can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son grumbles. As you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your Neck.

Your husband watches both of you with a smile as He rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care about the stares ? He shouldn’t have interrupted our time together And neither should’ve touched your shoulders .”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not-“

“Yes you are father, don’t lie! ”

As both of laugh at your son words, you realise your creation as you ask both of them

“ Who’s gonna wear these cute flower crowns I made ! ”

“No- no Mama, you and dad can wear that not me ” Your son says quickly to get away from looking cute, as you thought to yourself how much he is like his father in nature too, always want to be more of intimidating rather than cute but they're so cute and adorable you can't even explain

“Nope baby you and your father, both are gonna wear them—”

Before you can finish the sentence both of your boys runs off away from you, laughing as you chase after them

HUENING KAI

You and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

You can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

It also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. His hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

You remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

The way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

Today, you were going on an outing with your- now 6 months old-baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

Your husband has always been happy about helping you out with you throughout everything, as he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

You have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this Is the least I can do.

So yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever at his cuteness and his care and love for you and your daughters but that’s not the point.

You’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. You hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. She takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

Kai reply to the lady with a frown on his “with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

Your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

On the other side, your husband is just as speechless. Your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! You wouldn’t know that! You immature nugget!”

Huening frowns lightly, “princess, that’s not nice-“

And for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

She starts babbling some nonsense that you’re Pretty sure are curse words in baby language. Having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter Disrespect,” and starts walking away.

The rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. Finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

You giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

Kai cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them-“

Your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. She starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

Your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more-she was successful.

Meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, Babe; it was kind of funny.”

His resolve softens at the sound of laughter from All three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but-“

“yay!!”

Ladies: 1

Huening Kai: 0

#choi soobin #soobin x reader #tomorrow x together #txt #txt smut #txt soobin #beomgyu #choi soobin x reader #kpop #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #hueningkai #kang taehyun #txt taehyun #taehyun smut #fanfic #txt moa #moasource

[applejuicebegood]

Hi gorgeous!! I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to your message about jason x booknerd!reader, but I wanted to quickly message and tell you that I’ve read it and I’m absolutely in love! You literally always come up with such good ideas, idk how you do it!! You’re awesome and ily!!

-(@midnightorchids)

Jason with a Bookworm!S/O

A/N: I know school has started back up for you again babe, so I don't blame you :((( I was originally planning to expand this for you, hopefully you can read this during a study break or some down time (i might repeat some stuff - just look away). It's IB exam season where I am so I share in your pain. Hang in there dude!! Summer is almost here!!

Masterlist

He's a vintage paperback and leather-bound kinda guy. Crime, Sci-Fi, historical-fiction/romance, magical-realism, and non-fiction are his go-to genres. Favourite authors include; Margret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut, Haruki Murakami, Frank Herbert, and probably M.T Anderson. He's only a little pretentious about it.

He can spend hours in used book stores digging through the big plastic bins and stuffed cardboard boxes. You help him find specific authors or titles, your basket heavy with your combined finds. He'll carry the bags back to your apartment, his other hand tucked into yours as you gush about excited you are to sort and organise your new additions to your shared library.

He still has some books that Bruce and Alfred gave hm before his murder. Leather bond additions of the Liliad and rare printings of Dracula and Frankenstein. They have these little notes left in the front pages from Bruce that he couldn't bring himself to tear out or throw away entirely. And if you thought his home library was huge- wait until you see the book shelves in his old room.

Since he doesn't spend that much money on himself, he now has every chance to spoil you with your own special additions of your favourite stand-alone's, expensive book-marks, and lavish coffee dates where both of you enjoy your books over the smoothest of richest of espresso.

In the early months of your relationship, most of your dates were spent at bookstores, thrift-shops, and libraries. Your love quite literally grew from the yellowed, torn pages your would both get lost in.

Once his home library combined with yours, most of your bedroom and living room wall space became covered with his floor to ceiling bookshelves. Your bedside tables would each have a small stack of books that you were currently reading.

He absolutely loves how you look with your reading glasses. He thinks it's too cute when you push them up with the back of your hand, entirely focused on an intense passage. Your eyes going wide or your breath stopping at a beautiful line. Your adorable focused stare and sweet round cheeks are accentuated fully. He should be reading the book in his own lap but he's entirely distracted by you. You shut the book with a thump and immediately turn to him to gush about the chapter you just finished only to have his hands catch your jaw and bring your smiling lips against his. And suddenly, you forgot what you were going to say to him.

Jason finds lines and prose in his books that remind him of you and highlight them. He would keep them in a note stack on his phone, just to read them back to remind himself of your beauty. It's something that he could never put into words himself, hence one of the reasons why he adores reading so much. He can find the right order of words that properly express his infinite adoration and care for you.

I've explored this before but you guys have a set date once a month where you'll sit in each-others arms and just read all day. You'll curl up in one of his sweaters with one of your thick Sanderson novels and he'll tuck a blanket around his lap with his special addition of 'Little Women' open in his lap. He'll refill your tea mug because it's always hard to pull you out of your book during your reading days.

You'll order in some warm comfort food for supper and talk about your books respectively. He'll gush about how Jo March is such a revolutionary character and how Amy is actually a metaphor for the loss of innocence girls experience when attempting to emulate patriarchal standards of womanhood.

All while you gaze lovingly back into his eyes, your chin resting on your palm - wondering if a marriage proposal would be too sudden for your evening conversation.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #robin jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #batfam #jason todd x you #jason todd comfort #red hood x fem!reader #dc robin #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #batfamily #jason peter todd #dc red hood #the red hood

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 4

The living room and kitchen were deserted, neither Danny nor Jazz expected anyone as it was normal for their parents to essentially live in the basement only coming up for meals once or twice a month to ‘eat as a family’, these would consist mostly of fast food as no one trusted anything cooked in their kitchen.

They shared a glance as they opened the basement door and headed down. The dimly lit basement held the giant hole in the wall, the so-called portal, a massive metal spectacle with wires and interconnected circuitry met together to create an unholy abomination of science. Or at least that’s what Jazz called it once when they were in her room venting about the situation. 

“JAZZ!! DANNY!!” their overzealous father yelled as he bounded over.

Their mom walked over too, seeming to be happy for their return, “your father and I could barely contain our excitement all day!! Go on put on your hazmat suits.” their mom gestured over to the lockers that held the suits. Both of their parents' lockers tended to be quite empty since they practically lived in them, to the point where they had several copies of the same suits that they’d wash and reuse. Danny and Jazz only had the ones, Jazz had a nice dark violet color with black gloves and boots. Danny had black gloves and boots too but his was white to make it look like he was an astronaut, something that he had mixed feelings on. Both of these used to have a giant picture of Jack’s head on it but it was quickly removed by both siblings. 

They quickly put the suits on over their uniforms and joined their parents behind some glass near the portal. It wasn’t closed off or anything and Danny didn’t think it would be able to prevent something like an explosion from charing all of them but it’s hard to have faith in parents who've missed so much because of the stupid portal, or at least that’s how Danny felt. 

Jazz and Danny huddled together behind their parents as their mom did some final checks on a clipboard, “alrighty we should be all good, Hun you ready to throw the switch?” their mom asked their dad. “As ready as I’ll ever be!” Jack yelled as he threw down the switch.

…

A few sparks erupted from the portal but other than that nothing happened. 

Their dad, frustrated at this angrily tried turning it off and on again but nothing but another smaller spark and then truly nothing. 

Another low frustrated growl left their dad as he and mom walked back up the steps, “alright I’m taking a break.” Jack said, almost defeated, sounding, “I’m sorry but I really thought we had it this time.”

“Oh come on, Jack, let’s go out, I’m sure the kids were probably going over to the Wayne’s again anyways. Let’s go out and have a fun night then sleep on it.” their mom said, patting dad on the shoulder. They shared a fond look and then went upstairs probably to get ready. 

Danny and Jazz stood at the bottom of the stairs and shared a look.

“They gave up too fast again…” Jazz noted.

“I guess, what do we do now?” Danny asked.

“I’m still a little curious about the portal but I don’t want to keep Damian, Tim or Alfred waiting,” Jazz said with a hand on her cheek.

“We could invite them in, I know we haven’t before but maybe Tim would know how to get it working, he is pretty good with technology.” Danny reasoned. Neither of them really wanted to involve the Wayne’s in their family’s shenanigans but at this point they were all friends and Damian and Tim were bound to find out how weird their family was at some point anyways.

Jazz stood there seeming to think things over before she nodded, “alright I trust your judgment but we’ll have to be careful okay?” 

Danny smiled at her, “of course, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

This is what led to the four of them standing at the bottom of the stairs. Their parents had left about an hour ago. Danny and Jazz were still in their suits with Tim without one and made to sit with Jazz behind the glass and Damian and Danny planning to explore the actual tube.

“I don’t want to chance you getting hurt,” he said to her as he made her stand next to Tim.

Damian and Danny shared a look and nodded before heading into the tube. 

They looked around for a while but didn’t see much besides the interconnected wires on the floor of the lab. Damian took the right side while Danny took the left. They worked their way up and down the tube. Damian was a little ahead of Danny on their way out. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

When they were almost out Danny lost his footing, his hand flying out in front of him. A soft click was heard and time seemed to crawl to a stand still.

Danny couldn’t stand the thought of his friend getting hurt because of him and he felt a rush of adrenaline. He ran as he felt a swirl of energy and electricity surround his body. 

“DANNY!! DAMIAN!!” he heard both Tim and Jazz shout as he reached Damian who was at the mouth of the portal.

A quick shove was all it took to get Damian, who had turned towards him at the sound of the shout, out of the portal. 

“DANIEL!!” he heard Damian shout as the portal activated on top of him, surrounding his body with swirling green.

Blinding pain shot through Danny, feeling as if he was being torn apart and put back together again and again.

He figured he was dying but at least he could protect those he cared about. He was able to shove Damian out of the portal in time, and Tim and Jazz were safely behind the blast glass.

He wouldn’t ever be able to fly among the stars as an astronaut but he was able to protect. His family and friends were safe and that’s all that mattered. 

He could allow himself to succumb to the darkness as the electricity and pain consumed him whole.

#dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #poor danny #Main character death #Danny died #Jazz Fenton is traumatized #Tim Drake is traumatized #Damian Wayne is traumatized #Everyone gets traumatized #Danny himself gets majorly traumatized #Character Trauma #Depictions of death #Described death scene #Everyone is going to struggle with this #I bought a new chromebook and it's easier to type so I should be getting these out sooner #It'll probably get worse for Danny before it get's better but that's how these things go #Tim was thinking it was safe to let them search in the tube because Damian was with Danny #Damian thought it was safe because he's an ex-assassin and robin #Jazz trusted his brother to know how to be careful #Whoops Danny tripped and now he's dead #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use #no beta we die like Danny #Google Docs is my beta

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 17

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

Danny reappeared in the entryway of Clockwork’s house in a swirl of blue.  He met Clockwork’s eyes for just a moment and saw the muted concern in them.  

He couldn’t stand it.  

He darted to the side and made for the stairs.  

“Daniel–” said Clockwork, behind him, but he ignored him.  

He reached his bedroom and dove under the covers of the bed, wrapping himself up in the quilt, because he missed grabbing the sheet underneath it.  He pressed the nearest pillow into his face and tried to stop crying.  

“Daniel,” repeated Clockwork softly from near the doorway.  Danny hadn’t closed the door.  

Danny shook his head.  Whatever Clockwork wanted right now, Danny just couldn’t–

The edge of the bed sank down as Clockwork sat on it.  He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder.  “It will be alright, Daniel.  You are safe here.”

“You know– You know what they did.”

“I do.”

“How could you just let me– How could you let me go there?”

Clockwork sighed.  “I am bound by the limits of the role I have taken on.  I could not tell you.”

Typical.  Danny rubbed angrily at his eyes.  “How did I get away?  Do you know?”

“I know,” said Clockwork.  He didn’t say anything else.  

“But you can’t tell me, is that it?”

“If I were to tell you,” said Clockwork, carefully, “I would be removed from my current role and replaced by someone… less able.  The Observants are ever eager to exert control.”

Danny sniffled.  Clockwork’s explanation was reasonable, from a certain perspective.  It still hurt.  

“Why did they do it?” asked Danny.  “They said they wanted to understand, but they–  Who could do that if they wanted to understand?”

“I cannot say that I understand their motives,” said Clockwork.  “I certainly couldn’t imagine acting like that.”  He began rubbing a small circle into Danny’s back.  “But you need never see them again, if that is your wish.”

A sob caught in Danny’s throat, and before he knew what he was doing, he had twisted around to throw himself into Clockwork’s arms.  Clockwork received him with a remarkable amount of grace.  

“I don’t know why–  I don’t– Why I’m acting like this, I barely know them, knew them, it shouldn’t feel like–”  He didn’t know how to describe it.  “I don’t know why.”

“The why of it does not matter so much as the fact that you do feel that way,”  said Clockwork, continuing to pat Danny’s back.  

“It matters to me.”

“Ah, I see,” said Clockwork, soothingly.  “I’m sorry.  Of course it matters to you.  Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” said Danny.  

“No, no,” said Clockwork, “it’s quite alright.”

“I’m crying on you.”

“It’s fine,” said Clockwork.  “Tears wash out.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You learned about something very upsetting.  This is natural.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“It still happened, and is responsible for your present circumstances.  It’s alright to cry.  I will be here.”

.

“I made oatmeal today,” said Clockwork, putting a steaming bowl down in front of Danny.  “I thought that something simple would be best, after last night.”

Danny grunted and picked up a spoon to stir the oatmeal.  It wasn’t as simple as all that, really.  Clockwork had put raisins and cinnamon sugar in it.  It probably tasted just as good as all the other food Clockwork had made for him.  

“I’m supposed to choose now,” said Danny, listlessly. 

“This is the stage of the trial where you choose, but you need not do so immediately.  I cannot advise you on how to choose, or how to weigh your options, but it would not be out of the question for you to contemplate the matter for several days.”

“Right,” said Danny.  He scrubbed at his face.  Even after he’d sent Clockwork away, he’d cried on and off all night.  His skin around his eyes felt grainy and salty.  “What happens, when I choose?  Do you just teleport me back and the doors start working again?  And I, um, get my memory back?”

“That is a portion of it,” said Clockwork.  He sat down at the table across from Danny.  “First, however, the power involved in the ritual that is the trial would coalesce into a bond between you and your chosen guardian.  This would include the power involved in altering your form, so you would shortly thereafter regain your original appearance.”

“I kind of like the ears and tail, though.”  He ran his hands over his ears reflexively.  “They’re fluffy.”

Clockwork smiled.  “There are ways you can either regain or retain them.  Once that has occurred, the Observants will come to return your memories, and, finally, you will be escorted to your guardian.”

“Huh,” said Danny.  He poked at the oatmeal some more.  

“You should eat,” said Clockwork, gently.  

Danny sighed, and did his best.  

.

“I should make a list,” said Danny, having given up on breakfast.

“Of what?” asked Clockwork.  

“Names,” said Danny.  “Of people.  Choices.”

“You already have one of those,” Clockwork pointed out.  “In the folder.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Where did that get to, anyway?”

Clockwork slid it across the table, along with a pencil.  

“Thanks,” said Danny.  He flipped the folder open.  “I guess I can start by crossing off the people I’m definitely not going to choose.”

“That seems like a logical way to proceed,” agreed Clockwork.  

“So.  Not the Observants, obviously.”

He looked up at Clockwork out of the corner of his eye.  He could swear he’d seen him smirk at that pronouncement.  Just a little.  

“And not Skulker, Ember, and Technus,” he continued, moving down to the next entry he could safely cross out.  “And not, and not, um.  Not Jack and Maddie.  Those’re– those are the ones I can’t, who won’t, um.  Yeah.”  He looked at the rest of the list.  “Vlad is okay, but he lied to me a bunch, and I don’t really get why we were enemies, so when I get my memory back, I might hate him again, so not him.  Jazz…”

Danny licked his lips and tapped the eraser of the pencil against the table.  He liked Jazz.  And she was his sister.  Given everything else, he could sort of understand why she was lying, but…  No.  Vlad had a point, saying that he shouldn’t choose her.

“Not Jazz,” said Danny, finally.  “I don’t want to do that to her.  Which leaves Pandora and Frostbite.”

“A difficult decision indeed.”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  He sighed.  Either one of them would be good.  Different.  Very different.  The culture shock would be hard.  Ancient Greece and the Far Frozen were both very different from what he was used to.  But Frostbite and Pandora would take care of him, and that’s what really mattered, in the end.  

But he had to wonder if there wasn’t another option.  

“Clockwork, you knew me before, didn’t you?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Right.  But Jazz knew you, which sort of implies that I knew you.  So.  You knew me.”  Danny bit his lower lip, thinking.  “You, um.  Why didn’t you join in?  As a guardian, I mean.  Why didn’t you, um.  Apply?  Is that the right term?”

“It’s as good as any.”  Clockwork leaned back in his chair.  “There are still limits on what I can tell you.”

“Yeah, but tell me what you can tell me.”

“If I were to adopt a child,” said Clockwork.  “Any child, not necessarily you; you understand that I cannot speak of such specifics.”

“Right,” said Danny.  

“But, if I were to try to adopt a child, the Observants would be very cross with me.”

“Why?”

“Because my responsibilities to such a child would supercede my oaths and duties to them.  They would not appreciate the loss of control, and would do everything in their power to prevent it.”

“Like, by making you be a neutral party.  Taking you out of the running.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork.  “That would be something they might do.”

Danny fidgeted with the edge of the paper folder.  “If you– Did you–  Would you have applied?  If you could?  You know, hypothetically.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork, simply.

Danny took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his thighs.  “Then…  Then, if I…  I can choose anyone, can’t I?  Anyone I want, right?”

“Correct,” said Clockwork.  “That is the base rule upon which this whole trial is based.”

“So… what happens if I do?  If I, um, if I choose you?”

“That would be a nonstandard ending to the trial,” said Clockwork.  “It would not end as smoothly, perhaps, as it normally would.  The pathways that the power involved would travel upon may be confused.  You may not regain your original form.  The Observants would certainly withhold your memories.”

“And that would be… bad,” said Danny.  “That would be…”  He shook himself all over.  “I, um.  I don’t think…”  He faltered, looking down at his hands.  “That wouldn’t be much of a loss.  Really.”

“Fifteen years of memories is not insignificant,” said Clockwork, a note of warning in his voice.  “This is not a decision to make lightly.  It will affect your entire life.  There may even be other side effects that I have not listed.  Things that even I cannot foresee.”

“I don’t think I want to remember.  Not if it means remember what…”  He swallowed, with difficulty.  If what had been written in that binder had actually happened, he didn’t want to remember it.  “I’ve been thinking about this decision for months, right?  Every moment I remember.  I’m not making it lightly.  I know how important it is.”

Clockwork inclined his head towards Danny, acknowledging the point.  

“Pandora and Frostbite are great, but…”  Danny took a deep breath.  “But it’s you.  I choose you.”  He braced himself preparing for rejection.  A sort of tension built inside his chest until the feeling scraped the edge of pain.  

Then Clockwork was next to him and reached out to him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek.  “Oh, Daniel,” he said.  

The tension abruptly collapsed, and Danny let himself fall forward, into Clockwork’s arms.  Clockwork carded a gloved hand through Danny’s hair, ruffling his ears.  

“It’s okay, right?  It’s okay for me to choose you.”

“Of course it is,” said Clockwork.  “Of course.  I cannot tell you how glad I am.”

“But you can tell me other things, though, right?  You’re not neutral anymore.”

“Quite right,” said Clockwork, and Danny could hear a smile in his voice.  “I have so many things to tell you.”

“What kind of things?” asked Danny, settling his head against Clockwork’s collarbone.  Or whatever ghosts had instead of collarbones.  

“All sorts,” said Clockwork.  He chuckled.  “You’ll be able to see my actual lair.”

“Is it purple, too?”

“You’ll see.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

[homesickturner]

Homesick - Ch. 1

plot : childhood best friends Gracie and John are separated when join joins the war. Both are dealing with their own problems…will they cope with such distance between them. Most importantly, will the friendship (or more than..) stand the test of the war?

Dara speaks : hi hi! I’m overjoyed to finally be releasing this first chapter 🥹 I just could not keep these two to myself anymore 🫶 pls comment if you enjoy…any constructive criticism is welcome also. My asks box is wide open for any and all thoughts you have after reading this chapter so please send them my way !! The idea for this series came to me while listening to my favorite song ever homesick by dua lipa…give it a listen if you have not it’s too good!

warning : will be historically inaccurate at times for the sake of storytelling. Mentions of anxiety.

Gracie and John grew up together. Their parents often say that it was not often throughout their lives that one was seen without the other. Once they reached hugh school, things certainly changed although they still remained very close.

Gracie has been an exceptional student for all her young life and had future hopes of become a nurse. John and Gracie spoke often of their future plans and although there was a chance they may end up hours and hours from each other they knew they would be alright.

“So John,” Gracie spoke up, John sitting opposite her at the dinner table at her home. “I was thinking of doing some traveling before I head to Washington in the fall…where is it that you confirmed again?.”

“Gracie-.”

“Don’t worry though it’ll be way before college so we’ll have time to work and-.”

“I’m joining the air corps,” he blurted out, setting his knife and fork down.”

“You’re…what. John you’re going off to the war and you didn’t mention it.”

“No Gracie because I knew how worried you’d be-.”

“Damn right John.” She shot back, a hurt expression clouding her face. The girl was lost for words. “I’m coming with you-.”

“Like hell you are,” he scoffed. “Quit talking crap Gracie.”

“John! I was going to be a nurse anyway at least this way I’d be helping.” She pleaded.

“Gracie..you don’t want to see what some of the nurses do in the war,” John said softly. “You have so much going for you, go to college and have fun-.”

“While you’re getting shot down out of your fucking plane John!.” She shouted back at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Grace I’ll be ‘aright. I’m not letting you throw your future away for me…for this stupid war.” He insisted.

“John you’re my best friend. I can’t let you go out there.” She stood from the table and began pacing the small dining room. “If I do, I’d bet money that there’ll be a letter landing on my lap in Washington in a few months because you’ll-.”

“Gracie,” he yelled, strolling to where she was in front of him and laying both hands firmly on her shoulders. “Please…you’re breaking my heart. You gotta let me go.” He choked out, getting the slightest bit emotional seeing her eyes filled with tears.

Gracie felt like the life she’d planned had been ripped from beneath her. Some may say, she indeed had the world at her feet, everything was in her favor. Her family were wealthy, she had friends and she was headed to one of the top nursing programs in the country. Gracie never in a million years expected to hear that news from John. She was so crushed, so angry that this war was going to take away her favorite person from her and maybe never give him back. Gracie knew that boy better than she knew herself, so she knew that there was no changing his mind.

Although she was deeply upset, she knew John and had every belief he was doing this for the right reasons. Gracie knew that John had a big heart and truly just wanted to do what he could in such a horrific situation.

She wished she could be mature and think clearly about the situation. At the end of the day, Gracie was 18 years old and about to potentially loose her best friend to this war. So, she certainly was not thinking clearly.

As much as Gracie tried to persuade him, John’s decision was made. One week later he and Gracie stood at the Wisconsin harbor to say their goodbyes.

“Please don’t do this,” she whispered quietly into this ear, both her arms wrapped around his neck. “I can’t loose you Johnny…you’re my other half.”

Gracie couldn’t believe John was finally leaving her. She wasn’t sure she could live without him. Unfortunately for her, she was about to find out.

“It’ll be alright Gracie, I promise you. Just trust me alright?,” he muttered to her softly, he hands rubbed her back slowly.

John knew no matter what he told her, she’d worry. He knew that they were two halves of the same coin, and they balanced each other out perfectly. John brought out her wild side and Gracie kept John’s feet on the ground when he got overexcited. They certainly brought out the best in each other.

He might have been going off to war, but the only thing he was worried about was how Gracie would cope when he was gone. She’d always been an anxious girl, and it has only worsened in her late teens. In recent years, her friends and family realized that it was only John who seemed to truly help her. They would watch the nerves and worry melt off her face and her body relax when John and Gracie were in company togther. When she was with him, it was as if all the voices in her head were quieted and she felt herself again. John could only hope a constant stream of encouraging letters would keep his Grace happy.

As they broke apart John kept his hands on her shoulders. The two kept their eyes locked for a few moments, the words that were not said danced in the air between them. The moment neither of them ever thought would come had finally arrived.

Gracie watched as John turned and slowly began to walk away from her, and into the unknown. Right before boarding the boat, he turned to her once more as she called out to him.

“John?,” she asked. “Yeah Gracie?,” he called back, a small smile forming on this lips. “

“Please take care of yourself Johnny….and I’ll be waiting for my letters.” John could see her eyes lighting up as she shouted out to him.

“I will Grace, I promise I will. You’ll have plenty of letters don’t you worry.”

Gracie watched as her best friend boarded the boat. Moments later he appeared on the top deck, finding himself a spot next to the railing and stood waving to Gracie. A smile graced her lips as she watched him waving to her, and she would laugh when every so often he would do a salute. John noticed these laughs, and did them twice as much when he noticed she enjoyed them.

Gracie’s heart broke as she watched the boat sail away slowly. She stood and waved the John until she couldn’t see him anymore. Once the boat had sailed far enough, she let some tears finally fall down her cheeks.

#buck and bucky #bucky egan #john egan #mota #rosie rosenthal #mota x reader #mota spoilers #john egan x reader #john egan x oc #Gracie and John #austin butler #callum turner #nate mann #john brady

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Cancelled

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Your plans change.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Sat on a few of these fics for ages because I'm overthinking them, but thought 'ahhh, I need to post them now in time for the event!' Having a deadline is very helpful.

Warnings: Reader experiencing some sensory issues, Jake reading smutty books, overuse of italics, typos, not beta read, rail-road sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 801

Your phone buzzes on the bed. The drone is muffled slightly by the pillow it’s under. You finish fixing your outfit in the mirror and sigh. 

The material was ever so slightly wrong today. Normally it was fine, but now the feel of it just irritated you. But this was the seventh outfit you’d tried on and honestly if you were going to make it to the restaurant by 8pm, even with Jake’s ingenious driving, you had to leave now. 

You pick up your phone, glancing at the screen as you unlock it. 

One message. 

From one of your friends you were meeting up with. Probably something along the lines of ‘see everyone soon’. Usually you were excited to see them. They were some of your oldest and dearest friends, and you loved their company. But today it just felt off. Getting dressed up and going out. Eating at a semi expensive (for your budget anyway) restaurant that you didn’t even like that much. Putting on your ‘social interaction face’. It all just seems far too exhausting. 

Your eyes widened as you read the messages on the group chat. 

‘Can’t make it, stupid traffic at the tunnel! Been stuck for 50 mins and haven’t moved!’

‘I can’t either, babysitter fell through!’

‘So sorry everyone, maybe it’s for the best, I’ve got a horrible headache and was gonna power through, but maybe it’s best if we reschedule?’

The last message had you at-ted. 

‘It’s that okay with you? Sorry you let you down! <3’

Relief floods your veins and you hastily type a, ‘no worries, let’s reschedule’, adding several happy face emojis out of paranoia that your message could be misread, before you wish everyone well and to have a good evening. 

Jake hears you throw your bedroom door open, but doesn’t glance up from where he’s slouched over your armchair reading. It’s one of those bodice-ripping paperbacks from the 80s with the fabulously illustrated covers. Jake’s guilty pleasure. While he knows that Marc and Steven wouldn’t care, and most likely wouldn’t be bothered at all by his reading choices, he also very much does not want them to know. A feeling he’s sure he should try to unpack at some point. 

But that was a future Jake task. 

Which is why he’d taken to either hiding them behind the cistern in Steven’s flat or keeping them at yours, tucked neatly on your bookshelf (with your permission) behind a row of your books. 

“You ready to go amor?” He asked as he turned the page. 

You bounded over to him, ripping your stupid, itchy top off in the process. “Excellent news!” You stopped in front of him, smacking your hands onto the armchair for emphasis. 

Jake didn’t even flinch, half absorbed in his book and half used to your dramatic flare.

“Oh?” He glanced up at you and paused, a small frown of interest crossing his face. “You don’t have a top on.” 

“Exceptional observation skills Lockey.” 

He smirks. 

“Guess what?” 

“You’re embracing a new life as a nudist?” 

“The meal’s cancelled.” 

“What?” 

“The meal’s cancelled. You know cancelled, as in not happening.” You grin.

He gives you a playful look and swats your upper arm softly with his book. (His middle finger pressed inside to keep his page.) “I know what cancelled means, why?”

“Traffic, no babysitter, and headache.” You list the reasons as you count them on your hand excitedly. 

He smiles. “Really weren’t feeling it today were you?”

“How could you tell?” You say playfully. 

“Well, you kicking the door open to tell me was a good give away.”

You laugh.

“Plus, you really were leaving it pretty fine to get there on time.” He slips his bookmark between the pages and puts the book down on the floor before inching forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and gently pulls you into his lap, giving you plenty of time to step back if you wanted to. “I know how much being late makes you anxious.” 

You snuggle up to him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. His day old stubble rubs against your skin. But this sensation is comforting. Like home. 

“So you letting it get to this time without us going, or without you telling me off for reading instead of putting my shoes on.” 

“I don’t tell you off.” You grumble, your words muffled by how your mouth is pressed against his neck. 

Jake laughs. “Playfully.”

You tut affectionately. “Alright, playfully.” You adjust your position on his lap, getting comfortable. 

“So, what do you want to do tonight?” He presses a light kiss to your temple.

“Hmm, how about… pizza and you can read some of your smutty book to me?” 

He laughs again and kisses your lips. “Sounds good.” 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 4/34 - phone battery

[Read on AO3]

After a bit of a drought of decent cases, their latest, honest to goodness X-File was a welcome distraction. It hadn’t taken too long to wrap up either, which was a double win for Scully, who could only handle so many nights in a dilapidated motel room in a row. With the case now solved, more or less, all that remained for the morning was a bit of paperwork and a drive to the nearest airport to get back home.

“Your mom called me last night,” Mulder says, sitting in the driver’s seat of their rental car.

“Last night?” Scully asks, furrowing her brows. “What for?”

“It was when we got back to the motel, after your phone battery went dead. I told her to give it a few minutes and try again, give you a chance to get it charged.”

Scully doesn’t respond immediately, and when Mulder turns to look at her, he sees a puzzled look on her face, a crease forming between her brows.

“She didn’t call you?” he asks, matching her expression and turning his attention back to the road.

“No,” Scully answers, concern marring her features. “What did she say?”

“I think she was going to ask you something about Christmas, figuring out plans or something,” he says. “I did mention we were on a case, maybe she decided she’ll just call when you get back and aren’t busy.”

“Probably,” Scully says, then sits back in the passenger seat and gazes out the window at the passing scenery.

He steals another glance at her, thinking about the heavy weight that hung over his brief conversation with his future mother-in-law on the phone the night before. It really had been a short talk, with her asking if he knew where Scully (rather, Dana) was, and then how he’s been doing since his unwitting brain surgery. 

He made polite conversation, of course, but keeping such a gigantic secret from a woman like Margaret Scully has a way of making one feel guilty for things they aren’t even guilty of. If the call had gone on much longer, he fears he would have started confessing like a Catholic over the phone, and he couldn’t have that.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “You think we should tell her about us?” then quickly corrects, “I mean– the adoption, eloping…”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Not yet,” she answers.

He shoots her another glance—only for a moment—but to be honest, that wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. 

“I know you said you don’t want a big wedding or anything, but if you want to tell her, you can. I doubt she’d give you any real trouble for it,” he reasons, having a hard time believing Mrs. Scully would be anything but supportive once everything has been explained to her.

“It’s not that. I just—” she struggles to explain. “With Emily, it was so stressful and confusing for her. I don’t want to put her through more of that unless…”

Ah.

He reaches over and places his hand on top of hers, which rests on her knee.

“Unless you’re absolutely sure this is going to work out,” he finishes, and she nods, grateful she doesn’t have to conjure the words herself.

“There are so many variables at play here, Mulder. Any one of them could go wrong,” she says. He knows she’s mentally making a list, calculating how likely each factor is to throw a wrench in their plans. She’d be here a while if she wanted to plan for every possibility, but that won’t stop her from trying, he knows.

He squeezes her hand once. “I hope you know that whatever happens, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.”

That earns a small smile, and she looks down at her lap in that way that she thinks hides her blush from him. Thankfully, it does no such thing. 

“No, the Mulder variable is one that I have on good authority is fairly constant,” she says, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Oh? And are those findings available in a peer-reviewed journal article, Dr. Scully?” he teases back. “If you don’t cite your sources, I’m afraid your claims may be dismissed as unsubstantiated by the wider scientific community.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” she says, “I’m still working on gathering all my evidence. Research takes time, you know.”

“Maybe run some more tests,” he suggests.

She reaches out, running a hand through his hair, gently brushing over the place where his head had been drilled into.

“I’ll try to keep it less invasive than your previous experiences,” she teases, a small smile pulling at her lips. 

He breathes out a laugh, forcing his focus back on the road instead of on the feeling of her nimble fingers tousling his hair.

-.-.-

Their discussion picks up again on the plane, perhaps serving as a distraction for his partner who isn’t all that fond of flying.

“You agree with me, don’t you?” she asks.

He gives her a look, his best impression of the Skeptical Scully Brow.

“Is that a blanket statement? Because in general, no, I think that would be factually incorrect, Scully, that’s kind of our whole thing.”

“I mean,” she says, rolling her eyes, “that we should wait to tell people. At least my family.”

He turns toward her. That she’s bringing this up again shows that it’s something she’s really worried about. If it’s reassurance she needs, he’s happy to give it to her.

“Sure, Scully. You know them best.” Really it isn’t his place to decide this, but if she’s asking, maybe she wants it to be. They will, in a way, be his family too if all this works out.

She takes a deep breath, her usual flying anxiety momentarily forgotten in favor of whatever new kind of anxiety this was. “I just mean– If we even get approved, and if we get matched with someone… there’s always a chance the birth mother changes her mind at the last minute,” she says, talking through the scenario aloud. “This will be hard enough with just you and I to worry about. I don’t want to have to think about protecting my mother from heartbreak on top of everything else.”

He has to suppress a sigh on hearing her pessimistic view of what he’s hoping will be a very joyous process. But then again, this is what he loves about her. She’s the yin to his yang. The day to his night. Together, they cover all their bases, leaving no stone unturned in their search for the truth. Why should this be any different? He won’t get very far on nothing but blind hope. She’s here to ensure they are prepared for everything, come what may. Unfortunately, that means her taking on an extra burden of worry, one he hopes he might help alleviate.

“We can wait to tell them,” he vows, hoping that will put a stop to her spiraling. “I’m with you on this, don’t forget. We’re a team.”

She leans back, her head resting against the back of her seat, a sign he knows means she’s relaxing a little.

Success.

Still, the idea of telling no one at all feels dangerous. They need to have someone in their corner besides each other, for a whole slew of reasons. Character witness, taking time off work, filing necessary paperwork so that everything looks totally above board when they make it official… Really, there’s only one person he feels they have to tell, and that’s—

“What about Skinner?”

She turns her head to look at him, confusion playing on her face. “What about him?”

“I think we should tell him. Sooner than later.”

Maybe he should have planned out his pitch a little better. He can tell she’s not immediately drawn to the idea. He should have made up a list of reasons why it is a good plan, not just blurted out his half-formed thought before it was ready.

“But Mulder, what if they split us up?”

He turns in his seat, his attention intensifying. “That’s why we only tell Skinner. Ask him to keep it quiet in case things don’t work out.” She’s gonna need more than that. Think! Tap into those persuasive skills! "But, Scully, there’s going to be times we might have to take an afternoon off for a meeting or something. It will be easier if he knows.”

His focused gaze implores her to consider it. 

“I won’t let him split us up. It won’t happen.”

He can’t promise that, she knows, but they know Skinner well enough by now, don’t they? Sure, there may have been times when their trust in him wasn’t so strong, but it has been years now. Surely he would keep this to himself if they asked, right?

“Okay. You’re right…” she says tentatively, turning over his proposition in her head. “Just Skinner. No one else?”

His pinkie finger finds its way to hers and nudges it playfully. When she looks up at him, he smiles.

“Just you, me, and our big, bald boss makes three.”

~~~

SURPRISE - that was a short chapter, so here's another to make up for it

Chapter 5/34 - rulebook

“Hold on, go back to the IVF,” the follically challenged Assistant Director says, his hands tented in front of him. His brows furrow in concentration, and he breathes deeply through his nose, looking up at the two agents across the desk from him. “In vitro fertilization, right? So you’re saying—”

“Agent Mulder and I attempted to conceive a child through scientific means last year, yes.”

Scully’s answer is straightforward, perhaps hoping it will be like ripping off a band-aid. Judging by his stoic reaction, his pursed lips, the vein popping out of his forehead… her nonchalance does not really soften the blow.

His gruff voice returns after a moment of staring at them, his expression unreadable. “Right. Okay. Just wanted to make sure I was understanding.”

“It was unsuccessful,” Scully offers, continuing. “The ova that were fertilized unfortunately were not viable, probably due to the inconsistent storage conditions in which Mulder found them.”

“Yes, that– that’s where you lost me. The part about your abduction and then the cancer…” He sets a hand on top of one of the files Mulder had brought him, as if any of the words in that folder made a lick of sense to him.

“Believe me, sir, it’s just about as confusing to us as it is to you,” Mulder says.

Skinner clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Well, I’m very sorry about what happened to you, Agent Scully. I suppose that also explains the existence of… well…”

Emily. A story he never had fully explained.

“Yes, Emily was somehow part of all this. She was an experiment, never meant for me to find.”

Skinner balls his hand into a fist, tamping down the rage he feels bubbling up inside. “These men need to pay. What they’ve done to you– to you both… ”

“With all due respect, sir,” Mulder breaks in, “we’re not here to talk about revenge. We’re just trying to move forward.”

That’s… a surprisingly healthy outlook, coming from Mulder. What had Scully done to him? Whatever it was, the man owed her a heckuva lot more than whatever her last birthday and Christmas gifts had been. 

“Of course, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “So, what is it that you were asking for?”

The two basement-dwelling agents glance at each other, words being passed unspoken between them. It’s unnerving, the way they do that. Downright spooky.

Evidently, they come to the decision that it’s Mulder who should say the next part.

“Well, since we’re looking into adoption, sir, we thought it might be easier if we got married.”

Silence fills the room, an inadvertent staredown commencing between all parties.

“Married.”

Mulder nods. “That’s right.”

Scully is sitting bolt upright in her chair, a picture of professionalism on the surface, but in conjunction with the topic of discussion, it feels distinctly forced. Mulder, on the other hand, is bouncing his knee so severely that it’s a wonder he hasn’t worn a hole in the carpet below him yet.

“We just don’t want there to be any issues here on the bureaucratic side of things, if at all possible,” Mulder adds. “In fact, we’d prefer to keep this quiet, at least until we know if this will work.”

Skinner presses his lips together, shifting his gaze between them once again. 

“Well, your personal relationship will have to be disclosed to HR at some point. I can pull some strings—”

“Sir—”

“Although it would have been good to know a little earlier on. Say, around the time you were making some pretty serious medical decisions that may have affected your ability to do your jobs…”

“Sir, I—”

Mulder’s attempts to interrupt go unnoticed. 

“You know, I have to commend you. You’ve really kept up appearances around here. I had my suspicions, of course, but you continued on like normal, I almost wouldn’t have guessed—”

“Sir, we’re not actually… together.” Finally, Mulder is able to get the words out, leaving an awkward hush in their wake.

Skinner leans forward, turning his ear toward the younger man as if he hadn’t heard him the first time. “What do you mean?”

A pink tinge blooms on Mulder’s cheeks. “We’re not– Sir, this marriage is a formality, to make the application process easier and hopefully give us better chances of getting approved.”

“A formality,” Skinner repeats.

“Yes. We– We’re just trying to do whatever’s best to improve the odds that this works out.”

One of these days he’s just going to disappear to Cancún. Seriously, he’ll do it. This can’t be good for his health. He suppresses a groan, storing up a massive eye roll for whenever these two idiots leave the room. Only they could think up something like getting married and adopting a child platonically . Not to mention everything else they’d evidently been doing when left to their own devices.

“Right. That’s– Okay, sure. So then, the IVF…”

Scully pipes up. “I asked Mulder, and he agreed to help me.”

“As a friend?” He feels like this bears clarification.

“Is there something against that in the rulebook?” Mulder asks challengingly.

The look he gives them in return is withering. “I don’t think there’s a rulebook for all the insane stuff you two get up to, but I might have to make one, after this.” The two of them have the decency to look chastised at this, though he knows from experience it will do no good in the long run. “You know this is not normal, right?”

“Come on, Skinner, when have I ever been referred to as normal?” Mulder laughs.

“ You , I might expect this from,” he says, pointing a finger in his direction. “It’s Agent Scully that surprises me. You’ve really done a number on her, haven’t you?”

He takes a little solace in the fact that all this IVF business happened under Kersh’s watch, not his own. Imagine if it had worked…

“Will you help us or not, sir?” Scully asks, impatience beginning to make her uneasy in her seat.

He waves a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah. I thought this day might come at some point, but… definitely not like this.” His mind is wandering already, thinking back to any signs he might have missed, things that may have gone wrong in his career to lead him to this exact moment. “You have my blessing, or whatever it is you came to get from me. You need anything, just ask.”

Scully lets out a sigh, and her shoulders visibly relax.

Mulder moves to stand without another moment’s hesitation, bouncing up with far more energy than a man of his age should have. “Thank you, sir. I promise, this is the last time we ask you to cover for us.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Agent Mulder,” Skinner warns, though his words contain no malice. If anything, he’s resigned.

As much as these two make him tear his hair out (what little he has left), he holds a certain fondness for them that is undeniable. 

“And, hey– I’m happy for you. Seriously. The things I’ve seen you go through over the years, everything you’ve lost… You deserve this. Even if I don’t understand it.”

Mulder holds out a hand for him to shake. “Skinner. Thank you. Really.”

He nods. “Good luck with everything. And if you need any advice on adoption, my ex-wife’s sister has gone through it before. I can get you in touch, if you want.”

“We’d really appreciate that.”

They’re gone before he knows it, heads bent toward each other in secretive conversation before they’re even out of sight. 

Skinner lets out the eye roll from earlier, leaning back in his desk chair in exhaustion.

They’d figure it out sooner or later, of that he is certain. It’s just taking a little longer than he expected, that’s all.

-.-.-

"I want to get married Christmas Eve."

The proposition comes out of nowhere on a Thursday afternoon, and Mulder nearly spills his coffee mug all over his desk instead of setting it down gently like he was trying to do.

"Next week?" he sputters, the burning liquid nearly going down the wrong pipe.

She purses her lips. "...That's when Christmas is, yeah Mulder."

"I knew there was a reason that guy on the street corner with the bell was dressed as Santa Claus," he jokes, wiping a few splattered droplets of coffee from his tie.

"Mulder..."

"Okay, okay,” he says, dropping the jokester act. “But don't you want to spend the day with your family?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Maybe.” Her eyes are locked on the desk in front of her, pointedly avoiding his concerned look. “I'll go for a little while, but they don't... understand me like they used to. Maybe it's just me, but when I'm with them for too long, I get this sense that they're... afraid of me. Or somehow uncomfortable around me. Ever since Emily..."

He stops her. "That's their problem, Scully. I'm sure they don't mean it."

"I know, it's just... hard."

He bites down on his bottom lip to hold back the slew of words he'd like to say to Bill Scully, Jr. He knows that's not what Scully needs right now, as much as it would make him feel better to have a go at him.

"Is that why you went ghostbusting with me last Christmas?" he asks, his heart softening at the thought. 

"I don't know, maybe a little,” she shrugs. “It helped get my mind off things." She looks embarrassed to admit such a thing, but it only serves to make his heart twist in his chest. 

"Well, too bad we don't have more time to plan. Could have had a Christmas Eve wedding in a haunted house," he deadpans.

This succeeds in getting her to look at him, and she emits a nervous giggle he doesn't often hear. "Absolutely not.”

He grins, leaning back in his chair and twirling a pencil between his fingers. "Come on, don't you think Maurice and Lyda would like to know we’re getting married? I'm sure they'd have a field day with all our issues from the past year."

"Stop it, that didn't really happen."

"Well even if it didn't, I found it enlightening."

"Good for you. No, the courthouse will be fine."

They fall silent, the jovial atmosphere settling.

"And you don't want to invite your family?” he asks, clarifying. "Since they'll be in town?"

She shakes her head. "No, I think it should be just us."

Just us. He likes the sound of that. But still, one problem remains—

"Alright, so let me get this straight... you want to get married—to me—the one day a year your brother is in town? Are you trying to get me killed?"

Her lips quirk up at the corners. "He won't find out, Mulder."

"You like the danger of it, don't you?” he teases, leaning toward her. “You're a rebel at heart. I knew it. Probably snuck out every night in high school to run around with Johnny from the football team."

She stares at him unwaveringly, not dignifying him with a response. "Is it a yes or a no?" she asks, arms crossed in front of her.

He sobers, meeting her eyes with startling honesty. "I'll marry you any day of the year, Scully,” he says, and it's the truth. It has been the truth for years now. “Just remind me to wear a cup in case he figures it out."

"You're ridiculous."

-.-.-

The next week passes in a blur. Arrangements are made, paperwork acquired, work winds down for the holidays, and for once, Mulder isn't bored out of his mind this time of year.

"I was thinking… for tomorrow..." her voice crackles over the phone.

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" Mulder asks, his tone light and teasing despite the tinge of genuine concern he tamps down.

"No, of course not,” she assures him. “I was thinking, I'll need an excuse to leave Christmas at my mom's."

"No problem,” he says with a shrug. “I'll give you a call and make up some case we have to work."

He hears her sigh and gets the distinct impression that his suggestion was somehow wrong. "I can't ask you to do that,” she says. “They already blame you for last year."

"Gee, that's reassuring,” he chuckles, leaning back on his leather sofa. He adjusts the phone cradle on his chest, stretching the power cord to its limits.

"Not all of them, but, you know—"

"Bill."

"Yeah."

He waits for a second, but when she offers no further thoughts, he asks, "Then what do you suggest?"

She waits a moment more before responding. 

"Before you say anything, just listen to what I have to say…”

Oh boy.

"Why does that not give me a good feeling?" he muses aloud, his fingers twirling and tangling with the cord on the phone.

"The only way for you to be in the clear is if you're... with me, when we get called away."

"Scully—"

"We can just leave straight from her house, it's closer anyway."

"All excellent points, except for one thing..."

"Skinner can call us in."

Silence. He wants to argue but he can't.

"He already knows what's happening, I'm sure he'd be happy to help us," she reasons.

"I'm not gonna be able to talk myself out of this, am I?" he asks, a wry smile on his face. He's all out of excuses. 

"Mulder, if this works out... Well, there's a chance that by this time next year, we'll be a... family... of some sort, anyway. You might have to get used to it."

The word family sends a thrill right through him. He never thought he'd have one of those again. Never in a million years.

"You're right,” he says regretfully, running a hand over his face. “And it's not that I don't like your family, Scully, it's just I'm not sure they like me back."

"My mom loves you,” she says decisively. “And we'll only be there a few hours anyway. The courthouse closes early for the holiday."

He closes his eyes. He can't believe he's about to agree to this.

"Alright, I'll go. Just so you can get your thrill in doing something wildly irresponsible and rebellious right under your mother's nose."

She protests, "That's not why I—"

"I know you, Scully,” he teases. “You're not as strait-laced as you like to pretend."

After they hang up, Mulder stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought. His stomach flutters with nerves, unrelated to his worries about crashing a family gathering in the morning.

‘I am getting married tomorrow,’ he thinks. To Dana Scully.

It's a Christmas miracle.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Champagne problems | Dawson Mercer x Fem Reader

Summary: Dawson and Harper(you) get in a heated argument, but you have a past in being left alone. Dawson makes it up to by dancing in the kitchen at night, and it ends up leading to something else.

Warnings: makeup s*x, unprotected, crying, language, not proof read

PLS NOTE: I don’t think Dawson Mercer would ever LIKE EVER make someone feel this way (and idk why he would get angry abt this but he did so yuhh)

I got kinda lazy towards the end- sorry in advance🫶

You book the night train for a reason

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME HARPER!” Dawson yells out from our room. I hear his Newfie accent pop out. I think it’s so cute. Then. I hear pound stomps from upstairs in our home. He comes running down the stairs. He turns to face me as he scurries over at me.

Dawson throws my phone that was once in my hand and now is on the other side of the white couch, which I was comfortable sitting on. He never screams at me. I’m scared.

I’m scared.

I run for our dog, Mila. I grab our black lab and pick her up. Mila holds onto me as I run up the stairs with her. I don’t care about my phone, I need to lock myself away. I don’t even know what I did. But I’m is I’m terrified.

I dropped your hand while dancing

I run into the bathroom without a word said. I hear soft foot steps walking towards the bathroom. It’s not just a bathroom, it’s the place where we would take baths together, or when I get to drunk and he would hold my hair back when I throw up, or when he would get sick and I would shower with him.

This isn’t a home, not right now atelast. It’s a madhouse.

I’m not ready. It’s been a strong 2 years together, we have never been through a big fight where I felt I was threatened. I’m so scared I hold on to Mila, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“please, Harper, open up. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that. But I’m upset, you pulled out like $200 out if the shared account.” Dawson has a good point to be mad at me. But he has to understand that it’s for bills. I just bought the house, it’s under my name.

“I’m sorry.” I say, and there I go. A tear is shed. Not only one, but it turns into many. I’m now bawling my eyes out. He bangs on the door. I know he’ll get mad if I don’t open the door, but I’m not ready to see him, because I truly feel guilty, but I cannot pay for the bills and in general everything on my own.

“I’m not mad anymore, I’m going to be upset if you don’t open the door baby. Are you hungry?” Dawson says in absolute despair.

My stomach dropped about 12 minutes ago, and I still can’t seem to grab it and put it back in place, my heart is doing somersaults- in a terrible way, not in a lovestruck way, more of a numbing pain. My head is pounding. I hear birds chriping through the bathroom window. I unlock the door taht im sitting against. I let Mila walk out, and I grab air. Then I walk into our bedroom. I open windows.

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn’t give a reason

Champagne problems.

I change into Dawson’s boxers, they have SpongeBob patterns on them, I picked it out. I throw on my sleep shirt. I tie my hair into a messy high bun, I let my neck hit the cold outside breeze. It’s offseason, Dawson and I are getting ready to travel back to his family’s home in a week. Right now, I’m not sure if I wnat to go.

I hear sizzling from the kitchen downstairs. And the smell of cheese, and toast. Is it Grilled cheese?

“BUBBA?!” Dawson yells out for me.

He walks up the steps with a green plate, and he steps into our room, he sees me against our bedroom wall that faces the entrance of the room. The window is above me, he come towards me. Grabs the grilled cheese and splits it.

“Did you know you look gorgeous.” Dawson says, not in a question format, but more of a statement. He opens my mouth and wipes the tear that had fell from my eye. He sticks the grilled cheese into my mouth and he looks at me, and smiles. I see his toothless corny smile. I love him.

“Come here. Baby I didn’t mean to get at you like that.” He says as he grips onto his blue t-shirt and wipes my mascara away.

“it’s my fault.” I say. I don’t want him to leave me.

We finish eating as he explains how it’s okay to take out money,but he should be able to pay, not that I should sneak the payment. He grabs my hand and he takes the plate that he placed the delicious grilled cheese on and placed it into the clean sink. He turns me around and he’s sits me on the cold counter.

“You look sexy.” He says and again, I hear his newfie accent pop out. I’m head over heels for him.

“In SpongeBob boxers?” I say sarcastically and I laugh away my sadness.

“Yes. Anything that you’re in, makes you extra sexy. And..” he says as he trails off as he nibbles at my neck. He kissed my index finger and trailed up to my left ear. I can feel his stubble.

He pushed up against me, and he kissed me. He then picked me up from the counter and twirled me down to the floor. And he continued to French kiss me. He tugs at my waist as he he tucks his head onto my neck. He’s 6”0 body leans into my 5”2 figure.

“I love you.” He whispers into my ear as he sucks into me, I’m sure there is a big bruise awaiting to be seen by his fellow teammates at holding tomorrow. Dawson is missing a tooth, but he’s still really good at giving hickeys. He starts to sway. Ironically, he starts to humthe words of champagne problems. He’s such a girl dad- not yet.

We dance in the kitchen for like an hour as we just talk. The beautiful daylight blue sky turned into a black sky lit by stars. He grabs me and sits me down on the couch that we met at earlier today.

Mila has her own bed in our bedroom, but for today she sat in her own room that she has in the main level right next to the kitchen. Dawson locks Mila in her bedroom and he sets her asleep with her night time water. He grabs me and carry’s me up the stairs. It’s like we are re-living our day.

He pushed me down the bed. He has one hand on my mid torso. And he slides his hand up, up toward my cleavage. He takes a hold of his SpongeBob boxers and slides them off. He smoothly takes my shirt off. He apply little pressure on my shoulders, an my bra is off my chest. He looks at my breast like it’s the first pair he’s ever seen. His face lits up in an eager smile. And once again I see his toothless expression. He takes my nipple into his fingers and twist them.

My breast is really tender from crying earlier today so I let out a little wince. Dawson looks down at me ready to study every little mark I have on me. He takes his shirt off. In a swft motion his shorts are also off. I see his face black boxers, but it’s accompanied by a large tent in the middle of his legs. He’s getting off by me in pain. Wierd kink.

“Daws.” I say, I’m letting him know I’m ready to take him. Dawson holds my hands up above my head and he opens his boxers, I can’t stop thinking off how that’s where he opens his pants to pee, but I take him in my mouth and he’s steady leaking everywhere.

I lick the tip of him and he screams in excitement.

He’s so easy.

He lets out a sigh as he finished inside my mouth, not letting me do any work.

“Okay pillow princess, show me how it’s done.” Dawson says as he flips me on top of him and we roll over to the other side of the bed. He lays down and he pulls off his boxers. He’s bare, I’m bare. I touch myself as I stand on top of him. I look down at him as I decide to squat down. I look at his face, he’s ready to be please, but I just took him inside of my mouth. I swalllow, but I forget… can he?

So I take his jaw in my hand and I tell him to open his mouth, he does so. He is expecting a kiss. But for me, I wnat to make him cum first. So I straddle his face, and I take his hard friend, into my mouth, once again.

Im laying on top off him, he has my clit on his mouth, and I have his dick into my throat. He’s tasty, very salty. He locks me out, and I feel like I need to piss everywhere. So I focus on my job. I need to make him cum. He goes faster on his tounge, he lifts his hips up to my face, he’s about to fall out of his momentum. He thrusts into my throat. And again, and again, he thrusts. He lets out a groan, and he starts to stick his large fingers into my hole. He sucks and fingers at my bottom half.

He’s going to play dirty, so am I. So I grab his large balls and start to rub. He starts to slap my ass, and he runs up and down my waist line. I grab his leg, and he thrusts into my mouth again, he lets out an exasperated groan, he drops his bridge down, and he slides me over.

He arrived, and I haven’t. Maybe I am better.

“No, I know what you’re thinking, you aren’t better than I am.” Dawson says as he walks over to grab a condom.

“No, I like it raw.” I say as I get up from feeling like peeing.

“Easier on me then.” Dawson says as he lifts me up and I wrap around his figure. My boobs are pressed up against his abs, my nipples are sticking straight into him. He lays me down gently as he sticks a finger inside of me. He licks his finger clean.

“You’re still pretty wet for me.” He says, “but I haven’t cummed yet.” I said, impatiently.

I push his anatomy onto me. His cock is pushed up against his abdomen. He kisses me and he did infancy swallow.

He leans back up from our special kiss, and he licks his hand, and pump onto his cock once. He grasps onto my thigh, he spreads my legs apart.

“DAWSON!” I scream out in enjoyment. I’m exhilarated. His shaft ponds into my hips. My pelvis is now perked up into his hands. I need more, but I cannot fit much more. He has so many inches inside of me,I feel like I might puncture ny uterus.

“He shushed me and started to bounce. He thrusted about 4 times before I begged him to stop. And I cimmed right there. He grabbed a tissue that sat on our nightstands, specifically for this reason.

“Okay baby. You wanna shower, or do you want to wait until tomorrow morning?” Dawson says and he always knows the answer. He made sure I wa clean and the bed sheets weren’t wet and sticky for our semen.

He wraps his legs around me, I’m little spoon, and he’s big spoon. We are skin to skin. And I feel safe in his arms as he kissed me goodnight. And I feel ready to see his family on our trip next week. And I’m glad that his friends will see my “burn mark” I got. Which we all know that Dawson took his kisses to strong and he bit and sucked on my neck to leave territory marks.

#hockey #jocelynscrazyideas #nhl #dawson mercer #hockey fics #njd #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl players #nhl fic #smut

[eddiexmunsonlover]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 5)

BestFriend!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

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Chapter Summary: It's your 18th birthday and you celebrate by going to get a new piercing with Robin, and a small get together with your friends at Steve's house. This is just a mostly fluffy, light, and fun chapter after all the angst and heaviness of the previous ones. I'm honestly not super confident in this chapter but I hope y'all enjoy nonetheless. WC: 7.1K Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Underage drinking. Brief mentions of toxic parents, alcoholism.

Saturday, October 12th, 1985

“A-Are you sure you want me to go with you for this??” You can hear the panic in Robin’s voice over the phone, making you smile as you imagine her pacing around her bedroom with a white knuckle grip on the phone.

“Yes, Robbie. I want you to come with me.”

“But it won’t be like, weird? Given my… ya know”

“Robin, you know that doesn’t bother me. Besides, who else could I possibly ask? Not Steve or Eddie… for obvious reasons. Nancy and I aren’t close enough for me to ask her. You, however, are one of my closest friends.” 

You hear her release a short exhale before she responds.

“Okay, as long as you don’t think having me there will be weird.”

“Oh my god Robin, it won’t be weird as long as you don’t make it weird!” You laugh out and smile when you hear a small laugh in return, breaking through her anxious energy.

“Okay, okay. I promise, no weird stuff.”

“Good, I’ll pick you up in 15!”

You roll over to your bedside table to hang up the phone, huffing before you get out of bed to get dressed. You throw on a pair of leggings and a baggy t-shirt. You glance in your mirror, deciding to keep your hair in a bun and go barefaced, knowing you’d have time to come back and get ready before your party at Steve’s later.

As soon as you walk out of your bedroom door, your mom flashes you a smile and comes to wrap you in a hug. 

“Happy birthday, sweetie” she speaks softly through the embrace. “Finally 18!” 

She pulls back and notices the purse on your shoulder and keys in hand. “Where are you heading?”

“I’m just going out with Robin for a bit, I’ll be back before my party at Steve’s later.”

“Alright, you wanna open your gift first before you go?” 

You spot the gift bag on the coffee table and nod before beginning to pull out the stuffing paper, mind wondering what she could’ve gotten you. 

Maybe a new pair of boots? Some new guitar strings? Some new cassettes or VHS tapes? 

Your excitement falters when you spot the neon colored clothing. You force the smile to remain on your face, choosing to avoid an argument as you pull the neon green sweater out of the bag and hold it up. “Do you like it?!”

“Oh yeah, for sure!” You try your best to feign genuine excitement, unsure how effective it actually is.

“Promise you’ll actually wear it? Wouldn’t hurt to dress more like a girl…”

“Yes, mom. Thank you!” You answer quickly, flashing a smile her way before neatly folding the sweater and putting it back into the bag. That seems to satisfy her as she hums in agreement before turning to walk back to the kitchen.

As soon as the gift is back where you found it, you quickly leave the trailer. Groaning and rolling your eyes as soon as the front door shuts and you saunter down the steps to your truck.

Can’t even keep the nitpicking at bay for my birthday, let alone give me a gift I’d actually like.

Your mom’s not all bad. She does a lot for you and you know her heart is mostly in the right place, but her executions of showing care and concern for you often have the opposite effect, coming out critical and scrutinizing. 

You shake off the interaction, not wanting it to hamper on the good day you plan to have as you back out your driveway to pick Robin up. Smiling as you look over to Eddie’s trailer before pulling out of Forest Hills.

It’s been almost 3 weeks since the night on the playground when Eddie forgave you, allowing your close friendship to resume. You had intended to take it slow at first, let you both take time to warm up to each other again, but after a few days it was almost as if nothing had happened. Like no time at all had passed, let alone almost 3 years. You can’t really say you’re surprised considering how close you and Eddie were before the move, but you hadn’t expected your friendship to go back to ‘normal’ so quickly. You and Eddie fell back into the comfortable rhythm of your friendship, your usual banter and inside jokes quickly resuming. 

You’d even started joining the Hellfire table at lunch in the past week, though you haven’t accepted the invite to join the club just yet. You’d hung out a few times at his trailer too, listening to albums that’d come out in the time you’ve been gone and playing songs together on your guitars like you used to, only now you shared a joint while doing so. 

You sigh in content as you drive down Hawkins backroads to Robin’s house. You’ve been happier in the past 3 weeks than you have in the past 3 years. Everything feels like it’s finally come together.

You eye the brick building in a stretch of businesses on the outskirts of Hawkins as you park the truck. Tattoos and Piercings displayed in big orange letters in the front window. A mixture of excitement and nervousness fills your stomach as you turn to Robin with a smile. Forcing back a laugh as you see her nervously biting her bottom lip as she warily eyes the shop.

“Come on, let’s go!” you encourage as you hop out of the truck. Robin shortly catches up to your quick strides as you cross the street.

“W-What if the piercer is like, a major creep? Maybe we should have done like a background check or something first…” 

“Well what do you think I have you here for? I need a protector… for my hoo haa’s” you tease her playfully, a devilish smirk pulling at your lips as she looks at you wide-eyed. “Robin, everything will be fine. You don’t have to come back with me if you don’t want to.”

She shakes her head quickly, taking a deep breath as she faces the shop door.

“Nope, we’ve got this. I got your back, or well uh…” Her eyes briefly glance down to your chest before quickly looking back to the shop. “nevermind.” 

She opens the tattoo shop door, letting you go in first. For a Saturday business is slow, only one other customer inside getting tattooed. You approach the front desk where a middle aged man with shaggy hair greets you. You tell him what piercing you want and give him your ID, quickly signing the waiver for piercing and aftercare information and handing over cash for payment. With all formalities settled, he leads you and Robin to a room in the back of the shop.

“Alright uh, just go ahead and remove your shirt and bra.” He states, turning his back to you as he gathers his needles and cleaning supplies. Once you’ve taken off your upper layers and wait for him to begin, you look next to you to see Robin’s back is also towards you, standing rigidly as she faces the wall. Eyeing the seemingly very interesting cracks and chips in the wall’s red paint. You snicker at the sight.

“Rob, you can look ya know. You promised you wouldn’t make it weird.” 

“Right, right.” She says quickly as she turns around, eyes refusing to meet you or your exposed chest, deciding to now stare at the wall opposite of you. You shake your head at her as the piercer turns around and walks toward you.

“Alright, I’m gonna mark with a pen where I’ll pierce, then you can look in a mirror to make sure it looks alright.” 

He does as said, marking both sides of both your nipples, ensuring they look even before backing away so you can check for yourself in the mirror. Satisfied at the placement, you nod at him before sitting on the laid back chair.

“Good, now go ahead and lay back and I’ll get started.”

“Have you uh-pierced many nipples before?” Robin asks with a high-pitched squeak as she watches him bring over his tray of supplies.

He gives her an exhausted look before answering, “This ain’t my first rodeo, hun.”

She purses her lips, nodding her head at his answer as she continues looking around the room at anywhere but you.

“Alright, I’m sure you can imagine this is gonna hurt a bit.”

“Uh, Robin?” you ask as you extend a hand out to her, “Gonna need some support here.”

“Oh, right!” She answers after a moment, quickly taking your hand as her eyes finally meet yours, refusing to stray further south as she mouths a ‘sorry!”.

“Take a deep breath aaaand exhale”

As you exhale, a sharp pain spreads through your left nipple. You yelp out something like a mixture of a loud moan and scream, quickly grabbing Robin’s hand tightly. Curiosity gets the best of her and she finally looks, eyes going wide and mouth falling open at the sight.

“First one done, best to do the second one right away while you still got the adrenaline kick.” He states as he maneuvers to the other side of you, forcing Robin to shimmy over to the side he just occupied.

“Give me another deep breath”

You squeeze both Robin’s hand and your eyes shut as you take another inhale and exhale, a duller pain spreading through your other nipple. After some more deep breaths, you’re greeted with the news that you’re all finished.

You sit up fully, wiping your eyes as you stand and walk over to the mirror. A big smile creeps onto your face as you look at your newly pierced nipples. You’ve never felt particularly confident about your breasts. They aren’t big but they aren’t little either. You never felt like they were anything special. Ever since you first saw an image of a woman with her nipples pierced in a tattoo magazine your older cousin had a year ago, the image and idea of doing the same to your own hasn’t left your mind since.

As you eye yourself and your chest in the mirror, the new addition to your nipples gives you the boost of confidence you hoped it would. You turn around to face Robin.

“What do you think? Do they look good?”

Her head moves like a bobble head, nodding and shaking in every direction as she stares at your chest before looking up to meet your eyes.

“Uh yup. They look great” She muses, putting extra emphasis on the ‘p’.

You carefully put your bra back on, taking extra caution not to hit or snag the new barbells adorning your breasts. 

After a few minutes you and Robin are back in your truck and pulling onto the road. After making a quick stop for at the gas station for slushies, you head down the route to drop Robin back off at her house before Steve comes to grab her for help in setting up for your party.

Between sips of cherry slushies and singing along to Easy Lover by Phil Collins and Philip Bailey, Robin speaks up.

“You know, I think this whole ordeal has really added another layer to our friendship. Brought us closer, you know?” You smirk in response to her comment, and to the reaction you know your next words will elicit.

“Oh yeah, I mean now you’ve seen my tits and you now know what I sound like in bed.” you muse nonchalantly, failing to hold back the shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“OH MY GOD” she groans loudly, covering her face with her hands as you cackle in satisfaction.

~

Eddie’s already waiting for you, leaning against your truck with a lit cigarette in hand as you shut your front door behind you.

“There’s the birthday girl!” he yells with a bright smile on his face. You roll your eyes but are unable to hide the blush on your cheeks and soft smile as you approach him.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart” he hums softly as he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. 

“Thanks, Eds” You return the embrace, never tiring of the feeling of his body against yours, long arms wrapping around your frame. You gladly ignore the soreness of your chest as it presses against his. You let yourself inhale his scent, the faint smell of apples from his shampoo, cigarettes, and musky cologne flood your senses. You sigh softly at the intoxicating smell and feeling of him against you before you break from the embrace.

“Ready to party?” He asks with a cheeky smile.

“Hell yeah, hop in” He jogs over to the passenger side as you turn the ignition. 

Within 10 minutes, you’re pulling into Steve’s driveway, parking next to his car. Thankfully, it happens to be one of the many weekends that Steve’s parents are out of town, leaving the house to all of your friends to have a nice little get-together for your birthday. It’s nothing short of a miracle that you, Steve, and Robin managed to get a Saturday off together too. You can only imagine what they had to do to convince Keith to cover their shift.

“So this is Harrington’s humble abode huh?” Eddie mumbles with a hint of sarcasm as you begin walking up the driveway.

“Best behavior, Munson. Remember?” Eddie scoffs in response.

“I am always on my best behavior, thank you.”

“Who are you trying to fool?” you tease back playfully as you open the front door and let yourself in.

You look around the empty living room, eyeing some liters of soda sitting out on the kitchen counter. As Eddie looks around curiously, you notice shadows and hushed voices near the sliding glass door to the backyard. As you open the door, you’re immediately greeted with a chorus of shouts, “Happy birthday!” 

You hate being the center of attention, but you can’t help but smile and laugh as you look at the smiling faces of your friends, Steve, Robin, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all waiting to celebrate you. You step out onto the back porch with Eddie following behind. 

“Thank you, guys. This is so sweet!” You gush as your eyes look around, catching the Happy Birthday banner and table filled with snacks and drinks. You go to greet your friends one by one starting with Steve who already has an arm outstretched for a hug. You gladly abide, giving him a hug as you thank him for hosting and the effort he’s put in, leading him to scoff lightly in response.

“Of course, Y/N. I’m glad to.” 

You move to hug Robin, who hesitates for a second as she eyes your chest.

“I said don’t make it weird or obvious” you whisper through your teeth, staring at her wide eyed. She moves into action, quickly pulling you into a hug a little too eagerly to make up for her hesitation. “Don’t make it hurt either, goddamn.” you wince before you both laugh. 

You move on to the younger boys whom Eddie has already joined and squeeze their shoulders lovingly.

“I’m glad you turds are here too.” you tease as you smile brightly, spurring groans and eye rolls from them.

“Okay, that’s offensive.” Mike states matter-of-factly before breaking out into a smile. 

You wish Max would be here to celebrate with you all. You invited her, but when she heard of who all would be here, she quickly fumbled her way to an excuse, a commitment she made to her mom. You don’t hold it against her, but still, as you look among all your friends, her absence is noticeable. 

After a little while of mingling and snacking, Steve suggests a game of soccer, corralling all the boys out into the backyard. You and Robin sit at the edge of the porch, watching as the boys run around the yard, snacking on chips, and listening to your mixtape playing on the stereo.

“So uh, how do they feel?” She asks quietly. You peek a look at her as you pop a chip in your mouth. 

“They fuckin burn is how they feel.” you sigh, watching as Dustin begins to accuse Steve of playing dirty.

“Burn?! I-is that normal?” She nearly chokes on her chips, causing you to laugh as you shake your head.

“I don’t know, Rob. I’m sure it’s fine” you shrug as she looks lost in thought and you’re sure, anxiety. 

“Hey Y/N! Why don’t you come join us!” Dustin shouts out to you.

“Yeah, you too Rob come on!” Steve adds as his chest heaves slightly, hands on his hips.

“No, absolutely not.” Robin states plainly.

“Eh, I don’t know”

“Oh come on, don’t be chickenshits!” Dustin exclaims, causing your eyebrows to raise as you give him an ‘oh really?’ look.

“I think I’m totally fine with being a chicken.” Robin states unphased, looking at you. You share a look with her before standing up.

“Hold my beer.” You say as you begin walking out to meet the boys in the yard.

“But you’re not even drinking a…” Robin begins as you walk away, completely lost, joke flying over her head and landing somewhere in the front yard.

You fall into a 3v3 game; Steve, Eddie and you vs. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, despite the latter's complaints of it being unfair. You’re not athletic and never considered yourself a fan of sports, but you find yourself having fun and laughing as you kick the soccer ball around and between each other. Not to mention you joined this game with a mission, make Dustin eat his words. Having Steve and Eddie on your team helps, their tall stature and long limbs aiding in bypassing the younger boys’ attempts to intercept the ball. When Steve kicks the ball toward you, you don’t hesitate. Kicking the ball as hard as you can, going airborne in Eddie’s direction for him to secure a goal. Only Mike’s big ass head gets in the way. You have to turn away to try to stifle your laughter when you see and hear the soccer ball audibly thunk! against the side of his head.

“Ow!” he exclaims dramatically, hand holding the side of his head. You bite back your laughter as you face him, the snickering laughter from everyone else doing little to help.

“I’m sorry, bud. You were in the way!”

“In the way?!!” he shrieks in response, leaving you to only shrug apologetically. 

“Alright, walk it off. Don’t be dramatic. Here, we’ll even give you the ball!” Steve attempts to mediate, his offer seemingly settling Mike as the younger boys get back in formation. It does little to help though, as Steve shortly reclaims the ball for your team. 

A moment later you’re all huddled close with the ball stuck being kicked around in the middle, waiting for someone to manage to kick it out. In a moment of an innocent mistake and careless obliviousness, Dustin accidently pushes back against you and elbows your chest as his attention and body follows the movement of the ball. 

Your face scrunches in pain and your hand shoots out to grip the back of Dustin’s shirt. The rest of the boys go on unfazed, the distraction allowing an opening for Steve to kick the ball out of the circle. You take a deep breath before opening your eyes and meeting Dustin’s wide-eyed gaze, knowing he’s in deep shit. 

“Oh, you better run.” You whisper with a sinister smile on your face. You loosen your grip enough to let Dustin pull away and get a head start as he sprints off before you set off after him. After Steve scores another goal for your team, everyone watches in amusement as you briefly chase Dustin around the yard. You may be a bigger girl and not the most athletic, but you can still run pretty damn fast when you want to.

“Who’s the chickenshit now?!” you yell out teasingly as you begin to gain distance on him, holding back your laughter as he screeches out “I’m sorry”s. When you’re close enough, you wrap your arms around his midsection, lifting and spinning him around in circles as he screams, before you put him down and give him a good noogie. After you both regain your breath, you wrap your arm around his shoulder and give it a light squeeze before you walk back to rejoin the group.

“Well I guess that’s a good point to end it on,” Steve begins as he laughs softly. “a 6 to 2 victory!” 

“A proper victory for the birthday girl.” Eddie smiles at you. You give him a bashful curtsey in return, making him laugh before you all return to the porch to lay back and relax.

You and Eddie sit next to each other on one of Steve’s outdoor loveseat chairs, smirking as the younger boys bicker about the soccer game. Eddie lights up a joint, taking a hit before passing it to you. Extending his arm to rest behind your head.

“Listen, you little shits lost fair and square.” Eddie states with a self-satisfied smile.

“Yeah, well I’d wonder who’d win if the two oldest and tallest people here weren’t on the same team.” Lucas pushes.

“Yeah, a rematch of sorts” Dustin adds in agreement. Causing you to laugh as you exhale your hit.

“That’s about as much running as you’ll get out of me for the next month so, maybe next time fellas.” You state simply with a smile. 

The conversation thankfully changes topic as you and Eddie continue sharing his joint. You let your head rest back gently against his arm as you relax from your physical exertion, letting the small touch ground and soothe you as you look around, watching your friends happily. Steve steps out of the house with a platter full of hamburger patties and hotdogs ready to be grilled. You smirk at the image of Steve standing at the smoking grill, in Dad at a cookout mode.

“Only thing missing is a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron.” you quip toward Robin, whose eyes follow yours before breaking out into a giggle with you.

“Oh, I’m definitely getting him that for Christmas.” she hums in amusement.

Everyone is buzzing in conversation and light-hearted laughs with each other as music plays in the background. The beginning of a particular song catches your attention. Lucas’s eyes turn to meet yours at the exact moment yours turn to look at him as Let’s Groove by Earth, Wind, and Fire begins to play. Neither of you can resist the temptation, standing from your seats to sing and dance along together. Smiling and laughing as you break out into a half choreographed dance you’d done many times before. 

In the years prior, you’d loved babysitting Lucas and Erica the most. Beyond Lucas’s well-mannered but playful attitude with you and the similar sass as you that Erica embodied, going through Mr and Mrs. Sinclair’s collection of funk and RnB records was one of your favorite things. That, and the 3 of you spending all afternoon coming up with your own dances to the songs, often mimicking moves you’d seen on Soul Train. Everyone is all smiles as Dustin decides to join, doing his own rendition of the robot dance as he slots in next to you two.

Eddie watches the scene from his seat. It’s honestly heartwarming for him to witness first-hand the relationship you have with the younger boys. How you handle their attitudes and join in on their antics. Watching as you take on the fun but sassy older sister role gives him hope he can have a similar close friendship with them too, given his own still new but growing friendship with the new members of the club. 

At first, he tries not to let his eyes linger on you too much, not wanting his desire for you to be so obvious. But your body is calling out to him, pulling his eyes back to you as he watches your hips sway, the jiggle of your thick thighs, and with the way you shake your ass Eddie swears he’s going to die on the spot. He’s all of a sudden getting hot, and the already cooling temperatures from the quickly setting sun can’t be to blame. The slightest movement in his jeans sends him scurrying inside for a ‘bathroom break’ as he pleads to the gods there aren’t any more dance songs on the rest of your mixtape.

When the song ends and the boys sit down to take a breather, you venture over to Steve who is intently focused on the hot dogs and burgers sizzling on the grill. You take a sip from the can of Cola you carry before clearing your throat.

“So uh, how’s your wieners looking, Steve?” You hold back a laugh as you see the spatula he holds go still and his head slowly turns to look at you, giving you a ‘really?’ look as you stare at him with a coy grin. You hear a snicker from Dustin before he joins in.

“Hehe yeah, Steve. Are they nice and juicy?” he asks, sending the other boys into a giggling fit as Steve groans.

“Ah great, look at what you’ve started!” he says to you dramatically in a serious tone, but the slight upturn of the side of his mouth doesn’t fool you, breaking out into a full blown smile when you poke his side. 

You stand there with him, teasing him with comments like “Oooh, nice flip there” every time he turns over a burger. Shimmying and singing I Can’t Go For That to each other when it starts to play, a tradition of sorts started during numerous car rides before.

When Eddie returns from the bathroom, he spots you and Steve at the grill, standing particularly close, singing to each other. He can’t deny the ping of jealousy he feels at the sight. Suspicions of what kind of friendship you and Steve have exactly continues to brew ever since he first saw you in the Hawkins parking lot with him. He decides it’s time for a drink, grabbing a can of beer from the 6 pack he brought out of the cooler and resuming his previous seat. He’s thankful when the boys pull him into a DnD conversation that keeps his eyes from lingering on you two.

When the burgers and hotdogs are done, everyone digs in. The early evening hour and soccer game working up everyone’s appetite. After the food is all settled and everyone involved in conversation, you feel a light nudge at your side from Eddie, who greets you with a smile.

“Drink for the birthday girl?” He asks, a cold unopened beer in hand pointed toward you. You hesitate for a second as you eye the can, never having drank alcohol before. Growing up with your Dad had been enough to keep you away from it.

“Come on, you’re in a safe place with friends.” Eddie gently probes.

“Yeah, you know the spare room’s open for you too, don’t have to worry about going anywhere.” Steve adds. 

You notice that Steve and Robin are already sipping on their own beers and with one last look back at Eddie you decide to let your guard down. Nodding at him as you take the beer from his hands and open it.

“Hey, can I have one too?” Mike asks enthusiastically, “I mean what safer place to do it than here?”

“Nice try, Wheeler. I don’t think so.” Steve quickly answers before taking a sip from his own beer. You hear the boys’ groans in the background as you take your first sip, Eddie’s eyes watching you before your face turns and you stick out your tongue.

“Ugh, that tastes like shit!” You’re met with laughter by the 3 older teens, “How the hell do you drink this?”

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Well it certainly isn’t good.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got some rum and pineapple juice inside. I could make you a sweet drink?” Steve offers as he’s already rising from his seat to go inside.

“As long as it tastes better than this!”

And that it does. You hum in approval at the first sip, barely noticing the faint taste of alcohol over the sweet flavor of pineapple juice.

As the sun finally sets and a cool breeze flows through the air, the group moves out into the back yard where Steve has set up wood for a bonfire. Steve, ever the Dad of the group, comes prepared with supplies for s'mores. Insisting there had to be some kind of dessert considering you didn't want the traditional cake and candles, not wanting your friends to make too much fuss over you.

You bask in the warmth of the bright flames, aiding in the warmth already flowing through your body from the alcohol as you move on to your 2nd drink. That warmth grows as you look around at your friends circled around the campfire, smiles on their faces as they roast marshmallows that end up sticking to their lips, and Lucas dramatically telling his best rendition of a ghost story to the group. 

What a perfect day. This is everything you could ask for for your birthday. Nothing extravagant. Just quality time with your favorite people in this world. 

You let your eyes linger on Eddie as he watches and laughs along to Lucas’s story. Watching the flickering warm glow and shadows that the fire casts on his face. You admire the dimples in his cheeks and his plump, pink lips. His warm chocolate eyes as they look to meet yours, feeling your eyes on him. You blush and smile back at him, hoping the alcohol in your system and warmth from the fire are good enough cover for your red cheeks as you tune back into Lucas’s story. 

After a while the younger boys opt for going inside to set up their blankets and pillows in the living room and watch tv before bed.

Now on your 3rd drink, you’re feeling what you assume people call ‘tipsy’ at this point. 

“Goodnight, Dusty bun! Goodnight, Mikey! Goodnight, Lukie! Don’t let the bed bugs bite!” You call out lovingly after them as they walk the short distance back to the house.

“Dusty bun, huh?” Eddie asks curiously with a cheeky smile.

Steve almost excitedly spurs into telling Eddie about Dustin’s girlfriend in Utah, and their favorite song from The Neverending Story. You smile as you watch them interact. You’d initially been worried about having the two together, once being on opposite ends of the social hierarchy at Hawkins High. But given Steve’s personal growth over the past few years, you knew it was a matter of time before Eddie warmed up to him and saw him for who he is now, not the “King Steve” he’d known before.

You fish out a cigarette from your pack and light it, sinking into your chair as you take the first inhale. Your eyes shoot open as you hear the opening bass line to one of your favorite songs, Eyes Without a Face by Billy Idol.

“Oh my god I love this song!” you practically whine, standing up from your seat to dance along, eliciting a laugh from Steve. 

“Uh yeah, we know. You only insisted on playing it every time we’d go for late night drives this summer.” He smirks as he takes another drink from his beer.

“Uh yeah, because it’s one of the best songs ever!” you insist as if it’s obvious before you move a step away from the fire, hips swaying with the beat. Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other.

“I will admit it has grown on me.” Robin adds looking at Steve before smiling as she watches you. 

I’m all out of hope

One more bad break

Could bring a fall

You sing along as your body moves with the beat, putting your cigarette in your mouth to let your fingers play along to the bass line and guitar solo on your air guitar. You can really feel the alcohol now, the way your limbs feel both heavy and light at the same time as you move through the cool breeze, the giddy and sentimental energy flowing through you.

“Oh Robbie, come join me!” you plead, motioning her to you with your free hand. You’re lucky she’s just drunk enough to agree and join you in her best attempt at dancing along. Eddie and Steve watch with bright smiles, Eddie’s heart warming at the sight. 

He didn’t think his feelings for you could deepen any more, but here you are once again proving him wrong. Watching you be so carefree and playful, the way you passionately sing along to every word, the sway of your hips. He can’t get enough.

It’s all gone too soon as the song ends, leaving you pouting before you pull Robin in for a hug. The alcohol also working to numb your nipples, you discover.

“I love you, Robbie. Thanks for coming with me today.” You mumble in her ear as you embrace her tightly.

“Anytime.” she whispers back, returning your embrace.

“I love all of you guys” you say as you turn back to face the two boys sitting by the fire, only slurring your words slightly. “This has been the best birthday ever.”

You give a lopsided smile as you walk to Steve’s side and wrap your arms around him.

“Thank you, Stevie. So so much.” you mutter into his side as he laughs softly, rubbing your arm.

“Anytime, hun.”

You stumble slightly, losing your footing as you pull away from his hug. 

“I’m good, all good!” You slur as you steady, putting your arms up and giggling.

“Maybe it’s time we call it a night, the fire’s starting to die anyway.” Steve suggests as he sees how much the alcohol is hitting you. You groan and pout in response but ultimately agree when your body continues to sway as you stand in place, Steve asking Eddie if he can take you inside.

“It’s the first bedroom on the right up the stairs.” 

“Come on, princess. Let’s get you to bed.” Eddie says softly as he wraps an arm around your waist to support you, fingers lightly digging into the soft flesh there. You smile, giggling to yourself at the pet name as you put your arm around his shoulder, letting him lead you into the house and up the stairs.

As soon as you catch sight of the bed you plop face down on it, sighing in pleasure as you nuzzle your face against the soft pillow, eliciting an airy laugh from Eddie. You turn on your side to peek at him.

“Who you laughing at?”

“You, silly. You gonna sleep with no covers on?” He asks, motioning to the comforter you’re laying on top of. You groan in annoyance before standing up, quickly flipping up the comforter and crawling underneath and settling back in. You watch as Eddie takes off his vest and jacket, laying them on the end of the bed before going back downstairs to get you a glass of water.

You sigh and find yourself staring at the wall as your body sinks into the bed. You think back over your good day spent with your friends, and finally having your first drink to celebrate your 18th birthday. You aren’t sure what triggers it, but your mood quickly takes a turn as you begin to hear inklings of your mom’s voice in your head. Warnings and cautions thrown at you over the years about drinking, about your Dad. Pressures to be responsible and not follow in your father’s footsteps.

You need to be careful. Alcoholism runs in the family, you know.

You don’t want to end up like him.

The thoughts weigh on you heavily, worry and guilt quickly overtaking your mind. You’re so consumed by it you don’t hear Eddie’s footsteps coming up the stairs, only taking in his presence when you see his jeans enter your vision as he stands in front of you, putting the glass of water down on the bedside table. At first he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep, until he looks down at your face and notices the look in your eyes as you stare off in the distance and the frown set on your lips. He quickly squats down to be face level with you, eyes searching your face as his hand reaches out for your shoulder.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

You take a shaky inhale before you look at his worried face.

“W-We’re not gonna end up like our Dads are we?” you ask quietly, sadness seeping through your tone as you look deeply into his eyes.

He looks at you confused before it hits him. 

“Hey hey. No.” he reassures you, softly rubbing his hand up and down your bicep. “Just because you let yourself have fun and drink a bit with your friends doesn’t mean you’re going to be like your Dad, okay?” He watches as your expression begins to soften, taking in his words. “And you tell that little voice in your head to fuck off alright?” You give him the exact reaction he wanted, breaking out into a smile and giggling at his words. 

He always knows how to make you feel better. His reassurance and touch helps to calm your worries, but as you look into his eyes, guilt hits you again at your own words. Your insinuation that Eddie could end up like his father. You shake your head at the realization.

“That was a silly thing to say, I’m sorry.” Eddie watches you as one of your hands reaches out to his face. His breath hitching as he feels the pads of your fingers graze his cheek, moving strands of hair out of his face and tucking them behind his ear. “You could never be like him, Eds. You’re too good.” 

Eddie stares into your eyes for a moment. Your words, your touch, the look in your eyes as you stare into his has a grip on his heart, squeezing it as he’s overcome with it all. He struggled to believe those same words when he told it to himself, but hearing them fall from your lips is different. Helps him to believe it’s true. That, and the way you always saw him, when all anyone else in town saw when they looked at him was Al Munson. Casting a shadow over him. A shadow you’re familiar with. 

He smiles softly at you before looking down at the floor, taking a deep breath and gulping before he speaks.

“I know you uh- said no presents but I’ve got something for you.”

He looks up to meet your eyes again, taking in your curious look before he reaches his hands behind his neck and unclasps his necklace, holding it out to you. Your mouth falls open at the gesture, eyeing his red and black guitar pick necklace he’s worn for years that’s now resting in his hand, outstretched toward you. Your heart flutters at the sight.

“E-Eddie, your necklace?”

“I want you to have it, so you’ll always have a piece of me with you. Honestly should’ve given it to you a long time ago but, better late than never.” He offers you a shy smile. 

You quickly sit up and wrap your arms around him as you try to stop your bottom lip from quivering at the sentimental gesture, the alcohol making it much harder to do so. There’s so much you want to say, so many thoughts running through your head but none of the words meet your lips. You’re left speechless as Eddie returns your embrace before he pulls back and stands up, putting the necklace around your neck and clasping it in place. You look down at the pick now resting against your chest, your thumb caressing it.

“Thank you, Eddie. It means alot to me.” you gush as you look up at him, mimicking the wide smile already on his face.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. Looks better on you anyway.” 

You roll your eyes at him before resting your head back on the pillow, fingers still lingering on the pick around your neck.

“Alright, I’ll let you get some rest.” He sighs before walking to the end of the bed. When he reaches for his vest and jacket, you speak up.

“Wait… why don’t you just stay in here with me tonight?” He stares at you for a moment, mouth hanging open slightly as he thinks of your proposition. “I mean, unless you want to sleep on the floor with the kids in the living room. Come on, it’ll be like old times.” 

He caves in a little too quickly, giving you a nod and a soft smile as he moves his vest and jacket to a chair in the corner of the room. He turns off the bedroom light before walking over to the other side of the bed. You’re ashamed at the little wave of excitement that rushes over you when you hear the metal clink of him undoing his belt buckle, undressing down to his boxers before he climbs in under the covers next to you.

You settle into the bed facing each other, sighing in content as you get comfortable. Though you aren’t touching, you can already feel the warmth radiating from his body inches away. It isn’t long before you’re slipping under, dozing off into a deep sleep as one hand grips the guitar pick hanging from your new necklace.

Eddie’s fingers twitch at the close distance to you. Watching you through the faint moonlight shining through the window as you drift off to sleep. Though it’s not the first time you've fallen asleep next to each other, it’s the first time you’ve done it in years. The same thoughts and temptations he’d held at each sleepover before haven’t changed now. 

He wants nothing more than to caress your bare skin and pull your body against his. Rest his head on top of yours and inhale the scent of your shampoo as his hand softly rubs your back, soothing you to sleep. 

He lays there watching you, wondering if he’ll ever get the chance to do it. Wondering if he’ll ever have the guts to tell you how he feels and make you his. If you even want him like that. If you even see him as anything more than just your best friend.

He sighs before settling into his spot in the bed, deciding that being here with you like this is enough, for now.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader

[sunnydice]

calling cdream morally gray because he "wants to keep the server together" instantly unravels when you remember he's the one who tore it apart

#yeah he really saved the server when he escalated a mass slaughter and drove a kid to almost suicide for months cackling the whole time #not only is his 'ooo he just wants to keep everyone united 🥺' more of a shaky informed attribute (perpetuated by him AND his fans) #but even with that reasoning . how would that make him less of a villian lol #morally grey doesn't mean evil but maybe sad about it. morally gray means the webbing between hero and villain: bad actions for good of not #understandble reasons #and this is your good reason? that's where you throw your hands up and go well. i'd understand? #because idk how to tell you he paved the way for every single bad thing that happened to him and Not on purpose #he didnt expect sap+george to leave even after he kept trampling and abandoning them #and what goal was there with exile specifically? people Don't Know what happened there by his own fucking choice. #'yes i beat and abused and killed a kid and tried to condition him to be a Plaything for me' #'and i laughed the whole time and hid it from everyone so no one knows what i did and i wont talk about it either' #'but wasnt my reason so noble?' shut up BOY you guys sound RIDICULOUS #wheres the moral grayness in that?? where's the well actually??? wheres the 'performance' cdream apologists swear exists? #it's cuz there isnt 😭 hes just Actually like that and he likes doing it #having more than surface level thoughts and feelings abt situations doesnt make you morally gray it makes you a person #and it doesnt and Wouldnt detract from the harm he keeps choosing to cause #huri.txt #cometdontlook

[augustinewrites]

your apartment fills with the mouthwatering scents of buckwheat and dashi as you begin to unpack the takeout that's just been delivered. but even with your stomach already growling, you pause, confused.

“kento?” you call to where he’s is leaning against the counter.

“yes, love?”

you count the boxes again, frowning. “why did you order three? is one for your other girlfriend?”

“of course not,” he replies, unfazed by your teasing accusation as he continues to scroll through his tablet. “she doesn't like soba.”

you throw a napkin in his direction when your see the small smirk curling on his lips, shutting off his tablet to look over at you.

you wait, watching him expectantly.

"it's…for yuuji.”

“ah,” you realize, unable to keep from smiling. “your protégé.”

“he’s more like my intern,” he corrects, taking two plates from the cabinet.

you grab a third, following him to the dining table to help him set up. “you fired your last intern because you didn’t like how he organized your files. yet this one is sukuna’s vessel, and you’re bringing him soba.”

nanami pulls out your chair, kissing the top of your head before settling in his own seat. "you don't approve."

"it's not about that. if you say he's not dangerous, of course i believe you.”

he looks at you for a moment, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he figures out what to say.

“i just…don’t want him to feel so alone,” he says softly. “you heard about what happened at the detention center. gojo’s trying to hide him from the higher-ups right now, but we don’t know how long that’ll last. he’s just a kid, and gojo’s has a lot going on. so i— i want to look out for him.”

he glances over at the takeout bag, where the third box is sitting. “i may not be able to protect him like gojo can, but i can at least make sure he’s eating.”

you know he’s been exhausted lately. you can see it in the lines on his face and the slight sag of his shoulders when he trudges home at the end of the day.

yet he still finds time to care for a student that’s not his own.

and oh, if that did not make your heart skip a beat, knowing you were loved by a man capable of such care. you can’t help but watch him, almost unable to wrap your head around how lucky you are.

“you’re staring, dear.”

you sigh loudly, rising from your seat to wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “i think my heart might burst if i find another reason to love you more than i already do.”

he takes your hand, pressing his lips to your engagement ring.

“you love me plenty already. which is why you’ve already set a third plate out to invite yuuji to eat with us, correct?”

_____

“and then nanamin charged in and chopped it up just like this—”

nanami watches you watch yuuji swing a single chopstick menacingly as he recounts their last mission.

“he just charged in, hm?” you ask calmly. “yuuji, you’ll tell me if my fiancé is being reckless, won’t you?”

“yes ma’am!���

the blond sits up, clearing his throat. “surely that’s not necessary.”

“he’s so stubborn, isn’t he?” you ask the boy sitting across from you, even rolling your eyes.

“sure is! he’s pretty bossy too.”

nanami’s scoffs as if he’s annoyed, but secretly…secretly he couldn’t be more pleased.

he’s always wanted to be a lot of things in his life. a good sorcerer, a good employee. a good man.

but all of those things he thought he needed to be to live a full life are irrelevant.

because nothing is more fufilling than being needed and being loved.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x you

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on. 

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend. 

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned. 

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast. 

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up. 

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek. 

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand. 

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway. 

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that. 

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake. 

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.” 

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit. 

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself. 

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness. 

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench. 

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him. 

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.” 

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself. 

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with? 

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him. 

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded. 

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings. 

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too. 

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well. 

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend. 

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings. 

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted. 

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself. 

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on. 

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole. 

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands. 

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know. 

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn. 

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff. 

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away. 

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here. 

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him. 

“why did you leave me?” he asks. 

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists. 

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love. 

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days. 

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly. 

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out. 

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead. 

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head. 

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying. 

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight. 

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper. 

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.  

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray. 

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion. 

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could. 

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt. 

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you. 

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating. 

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known. 

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him. 

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics. #rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, violence/abuse, threat of bodily harm

gn reader

Thinking about poly yanderes again…

They’re both so patronizing – suffocatingly so. 

But where one is a brute, the other is sweet – or sweeter than the former, in any case...

He has a certain calm about him – gentle with you – considerate when showing his affection, and patient with you when he’s intimate. He doesn’t growl at you to shut up and lie still the way the other one does – instead, he asks you if you can be good for him – if you can let him love you – lipping at your throat without the touch of teeth as he all but begs for your consent.

The brute doesn't bother with such foreplay...

Your will doesn’t seem to interest him in any other aspect than ripping it from you and strangling it in his fist with a big grin, laughing while watching those pitiful tears start slipping down your cheeks.

He'll just shrug off the kinder one when he chides, telling him to stop being so rough with you. He just squeezes you a little tighter, sucks your neck a little harder, and kneads his cock a little deeper – saying that he can do whatever he wants with that which belongs to him.

When you struggle against him, he’s not shy of punishing you accordingly – in fact, he jumps at the opportunity – bending you over his lap with his fist riddled in your hair – landing strike after strike until you’re screaming in surrender, all cute pleas for his mercy, words he’s told you to say. 

He likes fucking you like that – when you’re a broken mess who only clings to him for comfort, crying into his neck while he pumps you full of cock and cum.

The kinder one scolds him afterward. Tells him he’s a fiend while petting your head and hair, carrying you away from the scene and into the bathroom. He draws you a tub of bubbles and holds a glass of water to your lips. But for all his niceties – he still gets in the hot water with you – cock in your sore hole while he washes your hair.

Still, he’s more reasonable.

When he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost like every night of you sleeping stuck in between them, you ask him if it’s really necessary – promising him you’re not going to run away – telling him that you’re going to stay right there, peacefully asleep.

The brute says that it isn’t something that’s up for discussion, that if you push your luck, he’s gonna tie every inch of you up like a floppy fish caught in a net ready to be gutted. But you don’t heed the warning – looking to your kinder warden with puppy eyes and a pout on your lips, saying please, it hurts your wrists – again, promising him you’ll be good and stay sound asleep between them the entire night.

You just needed to get to the door. 

You just needed to get to the door – through the door – out into the street, screaming while at it, and surely someone, anyone, would come to your rescue. 

Why wouldn't your feet move quicker? Why weren’t you faster? Why were you clumsier now? Tripping over rugs, missing steps when scrambling down the stairs, slipping when turning corners – trying to navigate the house when you’d barely ever seen anything but the bedroom.

You just needed to get to the door – but you could hear one of them coming after you – just behind you – big monstrous thundering steps shaking you to the core, strangling your heart, shattering your bones – and it’s getting hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to feel anything other than the numbing fear and the awful way it cripples you – throwing your mind into a tailspin while choking your lungs free of all air, clawing up your throat into a scream. 

You just needed to get to the fucking door –

You hadn't known you could make a sound like that – like something out of a horror movie – high-pitched and desperate – ripped from somewhere raw and primal.

There’s a hand in your hair, yanking you backward where you’re received by a hard chest and an arm snaking around your waist, hoisting you off the ground, kicking and yelling.

It’s the brute. He looks almost happy you’d tried running away – a manic look of delight on his face when he finally drops you down on the floor – pinning you beneath him – shadowing you with teeth seemingly dripping with venom and all the ugly punishments he’s no doubt cooking up inside his sick mind.

“Your ass is gettin’ it extra fuckin’ hard tonight – my handprint won’t heal for a month – won’t even be able to sit down without cryin’.” He growls, his teeth on your cheek as he grips your jaw tight – starting off your punishment with a harsh lovebite.

You look at the more merciful of the two. 

He’s standing off to the side, looking down at the two of you. 

You expect he’d come to the rescue like he’d done all those other times.

But to your utter horror… he isn’t lifting a single finger to stop it. 

His face is blank – cold – as cold as the words that roll dryly off his tongue, “I think we’ve established that spanking isn’t enough…” 

The one holding you down halts in his advances and seems to get just as frigid as you by the cold-blooded tone of his partner – who takes slow steps toward the two of you, so close he’s got your hair pinned beneath his toes before crouching down until he as well looms over you like a darkening storm.

He reaches a stiff hand to soothe the ring of teeth left on your cheek by the other – seemingly kindly, but his eyes are so jaded your breath catches in your throat – soulless as they stare into your teary ones.

“Maybe we ought to get ahead of the issue and break your legs.” He suggests nonchalantly, making both your and your other captor’s faces bleach.

Then he smiles – that kind smile, only now you can’t help but flinch at the sight of it. 

“That way, everyone’s happy,” He states, explaining, “You won't have to be tied up, and we can trust you to keep your word and stay put when you promise us you will.”

Then he stands up and straightens himself, looking at his partner with that same eerie smile.

“Where’d you put the bat again?”

The brute stiffens. His crazed expression had melted in light of the other into a look you’d never seen on him before. He swallows thickly as though he’s just as worried as you are. His voice is hesitant, “I think rope is enough…” 

The other throws his brows up. “Oh?” Then he snaps his focus back to you. “What do you think, baby? You think that’s enough?” He walks back to the two of you, and you feel the intense urge to hide behind the one you’d initially been caught running from.

He looks down at you expectantly, watching your lip quiver as you struggle to form an answer without choking on it.

“Hm? What was that? Rope or bat, what do you prefer?” His voice is sharp, licking at you like a knife.

You stutter, “Ro-rope.”

“Yeah? Okay, then – that’s settled.” He confirms, then looks back at the other. “Go get the rope.”

It doesn’t seem like he wants to leave – almost like he’s afraid of what might happen if he does. “Now?” He asks.

“Yes, now.” The smile tightens – sharpens into something truly lethal if you were to test it. “Our pet thinks they can run wild, so we’ll have to reintroduce them to the leash.”

Then he sets his sights back on you, robbing you of all air.

“Unless you’d prefer the bat after all?”

You whimper, shaking your head with a sniffle, “No-no – rope…”

He looks back to the other. “You heard 'em. Get going.”

He’s reluctant about it – looking from you to him, then back to you again, almost apologetically – before he gets up off you, leaving you on the floor – alone.

Your hair is then grabbed harshly, and you’re pulled up to your feet before you’re dragged off them – pulled along until you’re tugged from the floor up onto his lap as he plopped down, comfortably seated on the couch.

He sighs, letting go of your hair and placing both hands on the fat of your haunches, making you straddle him – mirroring your breathless, tear-streaked face with an expressionless one.

A hand ascends, and you’re convinced he’s going to slap you – but as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut in wait for it, his hand finds your cheek, only to ever-so-gently pet the wet away.

Cupping your face, he places a light peck on the corner of your mouth, followed by his voice, “Apologize, and I’ll forgive you.”

Your eyes peel open, looking back into his. You regret it instantly. Still eclipsed, it’s a cold and blank stare that seems to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never- never ever do it again.” You whisper pitifully – as if you’re afraid to be too loud.

“Hm…” He hums, looking unimpressed. “I don’t think that’s good enough…” 

His hand slips from your face down your neck, circling it lightly before squeezing it firmly with whitening knuckles. “You hurt my feelings, y’know? I trusted you, and you lied to me – right to my fucking face.”

You cack, wrapping your smaller hands around his wrist as he strangles the words out of you. “I’m sorry- I’m really- really sorry-”

His breathing is thick, as though something’s bubbling underneath the surface – a beast within whose bloodthirst hasn’t yet been sated. “I want more than empty words.” He states flatly, unforgivingly.

Still, he lets go of your throat, letting you drop to his chest, panting sore breaths with his words ringing hot in your head. You start kissing between sipping for air – desperately, up his neck and jaw, then his lips, even though he doesn’t kiss back – pleading, “Please forgive me- I’m sorry, I-”

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He mocks, stroking the back of your head, down your back as though soothing you – voice dripping with fake empathy. “Sorry for what exactly? Hm? For being a dumb little bitch, thinking you could run when you haven’t even so much as walked on your own two feet for months.”

A laugh inches into his words like a sickness. The eerie smile returns, small and curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You were fuckin’ hilarious, you know that?” He breathes lightly – eyes wide, staring at you like cornered prey. “Trippin’ over yer own two feet, barely even making it to the door.”

The grip around your throat returns, and you squeak out a whimper.

“Say it.” He seethes, “Say you’re a dumb little bitch who didn’t know what you were doing.” His lips ghost yours with the command, forcing you to echo the words back into his mouth.

“I’m- I’m a dumb little bitch- I’m- I didn’t know what I was doing-” 

He hums at your shivering but doesn’t ease his grip – molding his lips against yours, he kisses you deeply until parting with your lips between his teeth – letting go slowly.

“I- I’ll be good from now on, I promise-” You add – in the hope it would thaw the ice of his stare.

It doesn’t. He keeps them just as jaded – half-masted now as he runs his fingers up and down your spine, brushing your chin and cheek with his lips until blowing on your ear. “You better be.”

You shudder, wincing.

“‘Cause if you ever try anything like that again, I’m gonna go get that bat – and nothing and no one is gonna keep me from bashing away at you until I’ve made certain you can’t lift a single fucking finger without my help.”

You’re a broken mess of sniveling apologies and prayers on his lap by the time the brute comes back with the rope. 

But the one who’d reduced you to it doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. 

“There you are!” He beams with a bright smile.

Acting as though you weren’t falling apart in his arms, gripping his shirt for purchase while sobbing hard and ugly into his chest. 

“Let’s tie every square inch of 'em up like you suggested.” He muses while picking your tear-stained face up in both hands, nose-kissing you with his words dripping fondly off his tongue. “Just like a floppy fish ready to be gutted.”

BNHA – BakuDeku, DabiHawks, EndMight, ShinKami, TodoDeku, KiriBaku, Shiggy x villain!Deku

JJK – SatoSugu, YujiKuna, YujiGumi

HQ – Miya twins, IwaOi,

BLLK – NagiReo, KuniGiri

AOT - EreMin

DS - InoTan, DouAka

HxH – HisoIllu

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere demon slayer #yandere aot #yandere bllk #yandere blue lock #yandere attack on titan #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia

[pedantic-poison]

Delicious | LN4

pairing: fem sainz!reader x lando norris

genre: SMUTTTTT, 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v, fingering, light choking, use of pet names (darling, baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!!!!), language, hold the moan vibes, dirty talk, Lando being a hoe

requested: yes!

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i LOVE me some brother's best friend trope

When your older brother first joined McLaren, you were unbelievably proud of him, so, naturally, you moved heaven and earth to make it to his first race with the team. Meeting Lando, you finally understood why all of Carlos' stories from before the season started were about his new teammate, and how much he made him laugh. He was friendly to you, and kind, and had a knack for making sure you never felt out of place. He also made your chest go a little tight, but you chose to ignore that feeling. Best not to complicate things for your brother.

It's been years since you first met Lando, and you can't quite use that excuse to convince yourself you need to avoid Lando. You still try, certainly, but it doesn't really carry the weight it used to, not with Carlos at Ferrari now. Would it still be messy? Maybe. Would it be a complete shit show? ...Probably not, right?

That little tendril of doubt created just enough space for that weird feeling Lando elicited to bloom. And now, with the Summer break giving Carlos time off, he's invited Lando to your family's home, for an entire week.

"Morning," the sound of Lando's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. As if it wasn't already bad enough that he was staying in your house, now Lando had the audacity to show up in the kitchen, voice gravely from sleep, with a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low enough on his hips to show the V-line of his muscles there. Your eyes trailed up his torso, allowing yourself to indulge in his tan skin and taut muscles for just a moment, before your gaze met his. A knowing look danced across his face, eyes glinting with mischief, as he smirked at you over his mug of coffee.

"Oh, um, good morning," you coughed out, embarrassed at having been caught. "How'd you sleep?" you managed to force out.

Lando took his time, finishing his sip of coffee before answering, "Slept alright. Couldn't fall asleep for a while, for some reason, though." You couldn't quite decipher the look on his face while he said it, but he didn't give you enough time to overthink it. "You?"

Your face heated immediately at the reminder of what exactly you'd been doing last night, instead of sleeping. "F-fine, thanks." It had been four long days where Lando had made himself seemingly unavoidable. Even at night, when you could close your door to the rest of the house, and lock yourself away, your thoughts strayed back to Lando no matter what you did. Last night, the ache in your core had gotten so unbearable that you'd touched yourself to the thought of him. It seemed that even the walls of your room couldn't quite keep Lando out.

"What's got you thinking so hard over there, Sainz?"

You schooled your expression, refusing to let him throw you off balance again. "Wouldn't you like to know, Norris." The coffee mug in your hands hid your face rather well as you lifted it to take a sip, leveling him with a look that you hoped seemed like a challenge.

Pushing off the counter he'd been leaning against, Lando took a step closer to you. "I really, really would, actually."

You allowed yourself to lean in for just a moment, inhaling the smell of him, before pulling back. "Too bad." Chair legs scraping against the floor as you pushed away from the table, standing and taking your mug and book with you.

"Oh, come on! You're really gonna tease me like that?" he whined, shouting at your back as you headed up the stairs.

"Gotta make you work for it, Norris!" you called back, retreating into your room once again, giddier than you'd care to admit, and telling yourself that you'd only left because you had work to do. Certainly not because you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to hold on with Lando under the same roof.

Just three more days.

The loud splashes and laughter from outside drew your attention away from your book, for what felt like the hundredth time in two minutes. Sighing exasperatedly, you rolled over on your bed, craning your neck up to look out of your window.

Carlos and Lando were in the pool in the backyard below you, squealing like little kids as they hit each other with water balloons. You rolled your eyes at the childish behavior, even as you fought (and failed) to keep a smile off of your lips. You heard your father's voice ring throughout the house, and Carlos and Lando must've heard it too, because they quickly dropped their makeshift weapons at the call that they needed to get cleaned up for dinner. Your parents weren't terribly strict, but even they preferred for everyone at their dinner table to be fully clothed and not dripping everywhere.

Just as you'd made your way out of your room to head downstairs, you froze, finding a sopping wet Lando Norris in the hallway. Even after you (accidentally) ogled him this morning, you couldn't manage to keep your eyes on his as you watched the way the droplets of water fell off the ridges of his chiseled chest and torso. You hadn't quite noticed how close you'd come to running into each other, barely a foot of space between you, that seemed to shrink more and more the longer you stared. And you weren't the only one. The sundress you wore hung off your body in a way that made Lando want to memorize every line and curve of it himself. Looking wasn't enough - he'd always been more of a hands-on learner, anyways. And the way the gentle breeze swirled the skirt of it around your hips and legs made him want to find out if you were wearing anything underneath it. Made him want to rip anything he found there off with his teeth.

"Hermanita! Lando! Dinner in twenty minutes!" Carlos shouted up, from the sound of it in the kitchen, most likely helping your parents like the doting son he was. Helping, unlike you. Standing in the hallway, now only inches from Lando, chest rising and falling erratically as you tried to convince yourself that you should not fuck your brother's friend and former teammate in your parents' house with your entire family downstairs.

"Twenty minutes," Lando breathed, barely above a whisper. He took a final step forward, mouth painfully close to touching yours as his spread into a mischievous grin. "I can work with that."

His lips crashed into yours, hands gripping your face delicately as he did so, moving only after yours landed in his hair. Lando finally, finally, got his hands on those hips that had been torturing him, tempting him, for years, squeezing as he pulled you into him. Your fingers raked through his curls, tugging gently as you pushed him backwards into your room. He went willingly, grinning into the kiss at your enthusiasm as you kicked the door shut behind you, letting you take charge for the time being and falling to the bed when the backs of his knees hit it, hands dragging down your thighs as he went. For a moment, you paused, taking in the way Lando was looking up at you. Adoring. Reverent. Hungry.

His hands on your thighs urged you forward to straddle him, sliding his grip up your back to pull your torso flush with his. "God, these fucking tits," he groaned, squeezing you harder into his chest before sliding his hands around to your front, cupping them harshly. Through lidded eyes, you watched his hands, large, nimble, and veiny, knead your breasts while he hummed appreciatively, unable to look away from your chest for even a moment. "Been waiting to get my hands on you for so long, sweetheart," he heaved, speaking into your skin as his lips trailed over your exposed chest, just under your collarbone, punctuating the statement with a final, firm squeeze of your tits.

Before you could finish the whine building in you at the loss of his hands, Lando had yanked down the flimsy straps of your sundress, allowing your tits to spill out over the neckline. Lando swears he could come from that sight alone. "You're so gorgeous," he muttered, more to himself than to you, before looking back into your eyes, "so fucking gorgeous." His lips found yours again, stealing your breath as one hand reached up to ghost over your nipple, already sensitive and hardening from the cool air in your room, while the other lowered to rest on your waist, gently urging you to rock your hips against him at your own pace. "So," his kisses now landed on your jaw, "so," your neck, "beautiful. I think it might actually kill me," gently nipping at your pulse point before soothing the tender skin with his tongue.

Your breath had grown shallow from the attention he paid to your neck and chest, hitching as he tweaked your nipple just right, almost harsh enough to be painful but light enough to make you crave more. But what caused your breath to quicken was the feeling of Lando under you. Those strong, muscled thighs, bracketed by your own, felt so firm you couldn't stop your mind from wondering how they would feel if you ground yourself against them. The way they tensed as he moved, or restrained himself from moving as he tried to let you set the pace, felt so delicious against your thighs and through layers of fabric, you can't imagine how they would feel flexing against your core. Delicious as those thoughts were, they would have to wait for another time, because nothing was more tempting than the press of his hard cock against you, straining at the material of his swim trunks, the remaining water of the pool dampening your already wet panties.

"Shh, sweetheart, we've got to be careful," Lando startles you, the hand that had been on your tits gently closing over your mouth, and only then did you realize just how much noise you'd been making. Your cheeks heated at the realization, feeling your breath catching in your throat, rapid and uneven, whimpers and whines and a whole host of other, embarrassing sounds trapped beneath the firm press of Lando's large hand. You were so worked up that even that thought, the sheer size of his palm against you, how those thick, nimble fingers would feel between your thighs, made you whine louder, hips speeding up as you sought some kind of friction. Lando's eyes darkened as you ground yourself onto him, harder, faster, hand tightening around your waist and thighs flexing underneath you. He was holding back, you could tell, his restraint hanging by a thread, and every move you made threatened to fray that thread to its breaking point.

You wanted to make him snap.

There would be another time to savor this, to take your time, to memorize every inch of him, later.

You raised one of your hands from his broad shoulders, gripping the hand that covered your mouth and tapping twice. Immediately, Lando removed his hand, eyes filling with concern that he'd done something wrong, but before he could ask you were already whining again.

"Please, Lan," you begged, hips pressing down as harshly as you could manage. "Need you so bad, please, please," your voice was thin and breathy, and if you weren't nearly delirious from finally having this, having him, within your grasp, you might've been embarrassed by it. "Don't tease me, I c - can't take it."

Lando's head fell back with a groan, making no effort to silence himself as he did with you. "Fuck, darling, you want me that much, huh?" You nodded eagerly, hips continuing their grind as you felt Lando's cock twitch beneath you. "Such a desperate little thing, aren't you?" he asked, latching his mouth on the flesh of your breast, sucking a harsh mark into the delicate skin. Low enough that your family wouldn't be able to see, you realized, but dark enough that you'd have a reminder of him on your skin for the next few days. The thought made you flush with heat. The sudden bite of Lando's teeth on your tit shocked you out of your haze. "I asked you a question, sweetheart."

You blinked down at him, bleary eyed, "W-what?"

His grin was wicked as he looked up at you, "Aw, poor baby's already going cock dumb and I haven't even fucked you yet." Your cheeks heated, and he didn't give you the time to gather yourself enough to formulate a comeback. "I asked if you were a desperate little thing for me? You desperate for me to fuck you stupid, darling?"

A whine escaped your lips, unbidden, at his words, and the look in his eyes told you he wouldn't let you deny its cause. "God, yes, Lan, yes I'm so desperate for you, want you to fuck me so bad, I - fuck -"

The sensation of his fingers sliding your thong to the side scrambled your brains again, scattering any thoughts you'd managed to gather. The rough, calloused pad of his thumb brushed over your clit, and your body rocked violently into his hold, chasing the pleasure. "Keep talking to me, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Tell me all the filthy things my pretty little girl wants me to do to her," he whispered into your ear, lips going back to attacking your neck.

"W-want - want you to - ah- fuck me with your fingers, think about those p-perfect hands all the - fuck - t-time, want your thick fingers in me before you fuck me, Lando," you moaned out, pushing through even though your whines threatened to interrupt you.

"Good girl," he purred, sliding his middle finger through your folds, moaning into your neck at the feel of you. "So fucking wet f'me, darling, fuck," his left hand tweaked your nipple, as his right slowly sank a finger into you. The sound he let out was almost animalistic as he felt you clenching around him, reacting to the stretch that even one of his fingers made you feel. "Holy shit, you're so tight, baby," he lifted his head to be level with yours, wanting to watch your face as he touched you. "How am I gonna fit my cock into this tight little pussy of yours if you can barely take one of my fingers?"

The only answer you could give him was a needy moan, one that had his left hand going back up, not to cover your mouth, but to rest on your throat. "Shh, remember, sweetheart, you don't want your parents to hear us, do you?"

You shook your head fiercely, but immediately lost your train of thought again as Lando began to pump his finger in and out of you, slowly to let you adjust. His thumb landed firmly back on your clit, and the way he curled his long, thick fingers had him reaching a spot inside of you you'd never managed to reach before.

"What else do you want me to do, darling? Don't tell me you've already gone brainless? I've barely gotten started with you."

"Want more, Lan, want you to stretch me with your fingers so you can fuck me, want to feel you - oh, god," you barely managed to catch yourself before you screamed at the feeling of Lando pushing another finger into you. Even though he was aided by your wetness, Lando slowed his pace as he let you adjust again, easing into you as gently as possible as he maintained his circles on your clit.

"Want to feel me what, sweetheart?" he encouraged, curling his fingers to that same spot, this time hitting it hit his index and middle fingers and making your brain short circuit.

"Want to - Lan - w-want, I, fuck," you babbled, head falling to the crook of Lando's shoulder as you struggled for words.

"Come on, now, darling, be a good girl and tell me what you want. You do want to be a good girl f'me, don't you?" He chuckled lightly at how quickly you nodded, head staying buried in his neck.

"I- I want t-to feel you in me, feel your cock in me, feel you stretch me out with it, f-feel you fill me up - stuff me full with you, with your cum, leave me dripping with it."

The hand on your throat tightened harshly, briefly, before both of Lando's hands were off you and working on his swim trunks. "Jesus christ, baby, you've got a dirty little mouth on you. Such a perfect fucking girl for me, darling, such a dirty little thing, god you're perfect," he mumbled the praises into your mouth, stopping every so often to kiss you tenderly, hungrily, as his hands made quick work of the tie on his swim trunks, pulling them down enough to let his cock spring free. Your eyes widened involuntarily at the sight of it slapping against his stomach, the hard muscles of his abs and the red, leaking tip of his cock mesmerizing you.

You lifted your hips, allowing Lando to yank you closer to him until you hovered just over his cock, both of your hands bracing against his shoulders as one of his went under your dress to guide his cock through your folds.

"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?"

"Yes, please Lan, please, ple-"

You had to cover your mouth with your own hand this time, the stretch of his cock making your eyes water, tears springing from them. Lando stared straight into your eyes as he sank you down onto his cock, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in a feeble attempt to silence himself. Both of his hands landed on your hips, gripping harshly as he held himself back from fucking up into you right away.

"God, baby you're so tight, you have such a perfect little cunt," he panted, eyes fixed on yours, not wanting to miss a single expression on your face. Finally, he bottomed out, the slow glide of his cock in you heavenly, fingers flexing against you as he forced himself to be patient.

A weak whimper left you despite the hand over your mouth as you slowly rose up, dropping harshly back onto Lando's cock and digging in your fingers at the sensation.

"Fuuuuuuuck," Lando ground out, hips bucking slightly up into you as you sank back down on him again.

It didn't take long for your legs to begin to shake, pace faltering as you grew tired. "Lando," you breathed out, head nestled in the crook of his neck again.

"Yes, darling?" His voice was thin, reedy, telling you he was just as affected as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

"Can't - can't," your own gasp interrupted you as the head of Lando's cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. "Too tired, need you to - god."

Lando chuckled, chest rumbling underneath your forehead, "You need me to do it for you, baby? You already too fucked out to move?"

"Please," you whined, unable to muster any embarrassment at the desperation in your voice. He knew he did this to you. Why bother trying to hide it?

Something in your neediness got to him, hands sliding up to your waist and squeezing as he gave himself a better hold on you. "That's a good girl. Don't worry, sweetheart, I've got you."

He lifted you off his cock, before slamming you back down onto him, hips fucking up into you harshly. The feeling of him manhandling you with ease was nearly enough to make you come on its own, but that combined with the way he kept hitting that spot inside of you, over, and over, and over again? You were so close you felt like you were going to explode.

And Lando knew it, too. Could tell from the way your hands scrabbled for purchase on his muscular shoulders, the way your head went limp on his shoulder as you gave him complete control over your body, from the way you clenched around him, and when he dropped one of his hands to graze a thumb over your clit as he fucked up into you, you were helpless to do anything but collapse into his embrace as you rode out your high.

Lando continued to hold you up by your waist, limbs sluggish and heavy, as he chased his own high, spurred on by your whimpers of overstimulation. But what finally pushed him over the edge was the sound of your voice, wrecked and fucked out, whispering weakly in his ear, "Please, Lando, please fill me up."

He came with a groan that he tried to bury in your neck, nipping lightly at the skin as he came down, chest heaving and moving you with it since you still hadn't managed to regain control of your own body just yet. The feeling of him painting your walls made you whimper, unintentionally clenching around him again, which elicited a deep groan from him.

"You keep squeezing me like that, darling, and you're gonna get me hard again."

You giggled, which earned you a playful swat on the ass from Lando, chuckling along with you as he stroked your cheek tenderly, admiring you in your post-orgasm haze.

"Lan-"

"Dinner is ready! Hurry up and get down here, we're starving!" The sound of your brother's voice jolted both of you out of your stupor, matching looks of panic on your faces.

Before you could say anything else, Lando whispers, "We're talking about this later tonight, sweetheart." Placing a kiss on your cheek, Lando lifts you off of him, hissing at the feeling, and setting you on your bed next to him before getting up and running across the hall to his room.

After you managed to muster the strength to move, you quickly fixed your dress, trying to make sure that your face and hair weren't dead giveaways for just having had the best sex of your life. You rushed downstairs, blaming your breathlessness on having run to dispel your mother's concern, and sat down quickly, trying to avoid any questions about what had taken you so long.

A few seconds later, Lando joined you, sitting across from you, eyes burning into you in a way that made you shift in your seat. That turned out to be a huge mistake, because just as your brother passed you the salad, Lando's cum leaked out of you as you realized belatedly that not only had you not cleaned up, but you hadn't even put your panties back on. You froze, quickly shifting back and squeezing your thighs together in an effort to stop him from seeping out of you, and miraculously, none of your family seemed to notice.

But the way your eyes widened told Lando exactly what had happened.

When your parents asked how the dinner was, you stammered out some poor excuse of a response, not really knowing how to speak to your family with Lando's cum dripping out of you.

Lando shot you a wicked grin, winking quickly enough that no one else saw it, and stared right into your eyes as he answered.

"Delicious."

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 smut #f1 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris blurb #ln4 #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris f1 #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x female reader

[english-history-trip]

Ever see a depiction of St. George and the Dragon? It's pretty fair to say if you've seen one, you've seen them all: Georgie on a horse stabbing a flailing dragon creature, princess piously kneeling in the background, vague landscape alluding to the homeland of the artist's patron.

The most varied part is the dragons. No one had a real definition for the thing, it seemed. For your pleasure and entertainment, I have ranked some medieval depictions based on how impressive George's feat seems once you see the dragon.

Paolo Uccello, 1456

This is a terrifying beast. The hell is that. Uccello was one of the first experimenters with perspective, so the thing also looks surreal, like it's taking place on Mars, or a Windows 95 screensaver. I would not want to fight that, I would not want to be tied to that. (Sometimes the princess is tied to the dragon for some reason.) 10/10

Horse thoughts: Maybe if I look at the ground it will be gone when I look up

Unknown artist, c. 1505

This is a rare change of form for the dragon; it's the only one I've seen actually flying (or at least falling with style). It doesn't look particularly deterred by the spear through its throat, either. Also, George looks appropriately nervous. On the other hand, it hasn't got teeth, it seems to be fuzzy rather than having scaly armor, and George is bolstered by his army of Henry VII and his children, most of whom definitely didn't actually die in infancy. Still, wouldn't want to fight it, wouldn't want my pet sheep near it. (Sometimes the princess has a pet sheep for some reason.) 9/10

Horse thoughts: I am so glad I wore my mightiest feather helmet for this

Raphael, 1505

We are coming to Dragons With Problems. This guy looks about comparable in size to George, and does have wings, but doesn't seem to be using these things to his advantage (and has he only got one wing?) And how does he deal with the neck? He does have a comically small head, but holding it up with such a twisty neck seems complicated at best. But most egregiously, he is doing the shitty superheroine pose where he is somehow simultaneously showcasing his chest and his butt, with its unnecessarily defined butthole (more on this later) (regrettably). 8/10 bc it's Raphael

Horse thoughts: AM I THE BESTEST BOI? AM I DOING SUCH A GOOD JOB? WE R DRAGON SLAYING BUDDIEZ

The Beauchamp Hours, c. 1401

We had a spirited debate about this one at work. Again, the dragon has gotten smaller, and this one hasn't got even one wing. He's basically a crocodile. So the debate became: would you want to fight a crocodile if you had a horse and a pointy stick? Would the horse trample the animal, who can't get on its hind legs, or freak out and throw its rider? Would the pointy stick be enough to pierce the croc's thick hide? In this case, George seems to be controlling his horse and putting his pointy stick in the dragon's weak spot, so we can be impressed by his skill and strategy. However, his hat is dumb. 7/10

Horse thoughts: Dehhhh

Book of Hours, c. 1480

Here we have the same kind of croco-dragon, but George's focus on his strategy has gone out the window. He's flailing around, not even looking at his target, he's about to lose his pointy stick, he hasn't got a hand on the reins, and his sword seems to only be poking the invisible dragon over his shoulder. All he's got going for him is that his hat is slightly less dumb. 6/10

Horse thoughts: Yay, new friend! Come play with me, new fr- what is happening

Final dragons put behind this Read More for your safety:

Rogier van der Weyden, c. 1432

I'm thinking this guy is at least semi-aquatic. Webbed feet, wings that seem more like fins, bipedal but top-heavy, jaws that seem more for scooping than biting. Maybe she's crawled up here from the nearby body of water to lay her eggs, and this is all a big misunderstanding. Moreover, George's dagged sleeves seem entirely impractical for the situation. 5/10

Horse thoughts: i got my hed stuk in a jar and now it is this way forever

Unknown artist, c. 15th century

I hate this. I hate everything about it. Why has it got human eyes and teeth. Why is its nose melting. Why has it got a dick on its face and balls under its chin. The fin/wings are back but they look even more useless. Also, George is shifty as hell, schlumped over in his saddle with his bowler hat thing over his eyes. The baby dragon at the bottom eating some hapless would-be rescuer is kind of metal. 4/10 at least the thing is gonna die

Horse thoughts: I Have Smoked So Much Crack

Book of Hours, c. 1450

Remember what I said about the buttholes? First, sorry. Second, yeah, we're back to that. I'll admit this one is less about the danger from the dragon itself than the very specific choices the artist has made. They didn't need to do that. It's a lizard. They don't even have. And it's like they had an orifice budget and they skipped an exit wound for the spear to focus. Elsewhere. It's so detailed. And George had an even dumber hat. 2/10 take it away

Horse thoughts: I Have Smoked So Much Weed

Book of Hours, c. 1415

This is just bullying. There isn't even a princess. That is clearly an infant. Look at that smug look on George's face as he swings his sword that's bigger than the whole little guy. This is the equivalent of when DJT Jr. hunted those sleeping endangered sheep. 1/10

Horse thoughts: ....yikes

And this is the previous one, but now the baby dragon is cute. He's chubby. He's got toe beans. He's Puff the Magic Dragon. His eyes have already gone white, implying that George is just kicking its corpse around for funsies. What's the difference between the dragon and the lamb in the background? That the dragon is dead, like our innocence. This George is truly deserving of the dumbest hat of all. 0/10 plus one more butthole for the road

Horse thoughts: Perhaps it is we who are the buttholes.

#art history #nonsense #hot takes #I am doing a St. George painting and have been wading through reference material #manuscript #fuck me I didn't notice van der Weyden managed to sneak a butthole in his too #the definitive list #when knighthood was in flower