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loliwrites · 4 months

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The One You Need | five

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, unannounced visitors, actual daddy issues, dysfunctional parental relationship, SMUT, brief oral [m receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex, general manhandling, spanking, hair pulling, choking, joel’s a closer, sweet soft aftercare, terms of endearment [sweetheart, pretty girl], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.4k joel miller masterlist | part four a/n: happy new years eve hunni buns! lets usher this year out and the new one in with a bang. literally and figuratively.

Joel took a long, deep breath and held it as he stretched his legs, knees cracking with the tension. He released the breath and relaxed his sore body all at the same time. His lower back was screaming with tightness. The sort that ensured he knew he was no longer as young as he once had been. The kind that told him he never would be again.

Blinking languidly and taking an extra moment to get himself awake, he found himself in an unfamiliar place. It took a couple seconds, and the sight of the stray bolt on the nightstand, until he remembered where he was. In your home. With you. He turned over to lay his gaze upon you; to catch you sleeping. But getting onto his back, quickly noticed that you were no longer in bed beside him. For long enough by this point for your side to have grown cold in the morning air. Joel glanced at the clock unhurriedly. 7:54. Far later than was normal for him. Though partaking in the activities from the previous night hadn’t been normal in his recent history either.

He got out of bed cautiously so as to not aggravate an already angry back. A groan ripped through his chest when he bent over to grab his jeans and slid them up his legs, opting to leave them unzipped and unbuttoned around his hips as he strode for the bedroom door. All seemed quiet in the house, save for the knocking of some cabinets and silverware. Joel yawned and rubbed his eye with his fist, afterward trailing that hand up to his skewed hair for a scratch. He found you with the noise. Back to him, in front of the coffee machine, with a line of cups in front of you.

Approaching silently, you made no notion of being aware he was there until a hand laid upon your ass. Lips followed suit to the side of your head.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice deep and gravelly. He squeezed his fingers into the flesh of your backside where you’d traded in being naked for his t-shirt and a pair of cotton pants.

“Hand off ass,” you grimaced through your teeth.

He pulled his hand away and held it up as innocently as possible, staring down at you with a worried gaze. What had happened between late last night and early this morning?

“What’s wrong?”

You huffed and let your shoulders sag. Maybe if you collapsed to the floor, everyone would just leave your house and you could carry on with life. But Joel replaced his hand on you, this time on your mid-back and you only tensed up a little, though was sure he noticed. “My mom and dad are here,”

Joel turned his head to the side as subtly he could muster and snuck a peek of a pair of men’s shoes in the living room he’d never seen before. He looked back at you, “take it we’re not happy about their arrival,”

A glare in his direction was answer enough. “I left because of them,”

He nodded as if assuring you that he needed no explanation. “I’ll get out of your hair. Come ‘round when they leave,”

“No, don’t go,” you rested your hands on his stomach. “They might behave better if someone else is in the house,”

He let out a breath and seemed to look down at you, authoritatively. You were leaving him in a bit of a situation – if only because you were currently in the shirt he’d come over in. “Still got my other shirt you stole?”

“I didn’t steal it!”

He let out a low hmph.

“It’s in my dresser. Middle drawer on the left,”

If you’d seen it coming, or had any inclination of it, you probably would’ve resisted, but when Joel leaned in to kiss you, it caught you so off guard that you had no other instinct than to kiss him back. To allow his lips to brush over yours softly at first, and then find their placing with more force. A clear sign to any potential onlookers that this is where I belong, against her lips.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Sitting across from your parents reminded you of every reason why you’d left, and reignited feelings in your body you thought you’d banished after moving away and creating your own little world here. Granted it had only been a month, but your body had felt lighter, your mind freer. Nothing like mom and dad to get you back to feeling inadequate and insignificant. You knew they loved you. Sure of it. But dad was loud and mom was… weak. And from it was born every fucked up conception and fear you had of relationships. Mom and dad made relationships look like a thing to avoid like the plague. To ward them off any way you could. No price was too large if it meant keeping someone at bay. Someone who may know the dark and scary things about you and then eventually use them against you without so much as a breath or a blink of an eye. To willingly show someone your weaknesses knowing they would inevitably stab you in the back with them…? Why would anyone want a relationship?

It was some point within your father’s rant of how your home was just okay – “I mean, this isn’t what I would’ve done. I would’ve changed this… this is falling apart… you spent how much? For this…?” – that you realized Joel had apparently made himself mighty comfortable in your bedroom. Safely stowed away behind a closed door. Not that you wanted to subject him to the horrors that were the humans who gave you life, but if he’d at least make his earthly presence known, maybe your dad would cool the fuck off.

“For that price you could’ve found something a little nicer somewhere in the valley.” Your dad continued on one of his rants that you’d learned to tune out. Picked at an invisible fuzz on the shirt you wore. “No use coming out here. I’m sure peak summer’s just about the most awful thing. And winter? Gonna be miserable…”

The clearing of a throat saved you. Lifted you from this realm and tossed you into a different one. A better one. All three of you looked up at the same time, but only you smiled when you laid eyes upon Joel standing in the threshold. Arms dangling at his sides, almost uncomfortable with their lack of something to do.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he glanced at your father, not giving heads or tails of what he was really thinking. He took a couple steps into the room, jutting his thumb back over his shoulder, “gotta grab some stuff from my place to fix your door.”

You hopped up from your seat and met him halfway. “I have tools,” sounding too eager to keep him on the perimeter of your property.

“As much as I love that floral screwdriver, it’s gonna take a bit more,” he pursed his lips together, eyes darting over your face to pick up any intricacies of your expression. “Y’good?”

A nod was all you could muster. A weak thing that bowed your head until your eyeline was even with Joel’s chest. You’d turn back to your parents as soon as he turned to leave, but not a moment before then. Why return to that when you could live here for just a little bit longer, almost like you could pretend they weren’t there at all. And in the pause, Joel lifted a hand and curled it to the back of your neck, fingers pressing against skin to inch you closer to him. Just close enough for him to lay a gentle kiss on your forehead. He lingered there with a deep inhale. And having grown uncomfortable with the closeness and perceived intimacy in front of your parents, you pulled away and looked up at him.

You weren’t sure what he was thinking at that moment. Wasn’t sure of his game plan or endgame. But in the split-second you pulled away from his lips on your forehead, he leaned back in and pressed a quick peck to your lips. And his slight smirk after he stood back to his full height and left was all you needed to see. He’s gonna get the shit slapped out of him.

The front door clicked back in place before you turned back toward your parents to face the questions you knew were coming.

“Who was that?” Your mom asked. She speaks! She breathes! She lives!

“The handyman,”

“You kiss your handyman?” Good question, dad.

“He’s also my neighbor,”

“You kiss your neighbors?”

Instead of answering and opting to sit back down, it gave your dad time to interject yet again.

“He’s kind of old,”

“What’re you doing here? I’d appreciate a heads up,”

Your mom sat forward, “sweetheart, we just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Somehow that name didn’t sound as nice as it did when it came off of Joel’s tongue. And you also knew that wasn’t entirely it. They hadn’t cared to stop by and see how you were doing when you lived in the same town as them. Never dropped in to check out your apartment there. Really you knew it was because the version of you they once held so much control over had slipped away. And with the distance from your move, it seemed that you’d slipped away entirely. Despite dad’s total lack of emotion and mom’s “woe-is-me” attitude, you knew they knew it, too. You’d never be coming back to “old home”.

The front door creaked back open and you turned your head to watch the newcomer who went to great lengths to avoid eye contact. He’d changed out of the t-shirt and into a green flannel, the sleeves halfway rolled up and his renewed presence only halted your dad momentarily from talking about himself.

A fleeting thought passed through your brain about what Joel thought of all this. Did he think you were being too hard on your family? Did he think they were absolute nuts? Did he get why the choice between staying or uprooting your life was an easy one? But mostly you thought about how you didn’t want him to think differently of you because of your parents. You didn’t want him to see shades of you in them and have that change his perception. They were never meant to be here. And you’d moved across the country to have a better chance at that being reality.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Despite many failed attempts, you finally urged your parents out of the house come evening by insisting there were a few work deadlines you were behind on. Work was always the perfect excuse because they never care to understand what it was you did anyway. They made a half-hearted mention about swinging by tomorrow before their flight, but you made up another excuse about work and knew they wouldn’t fight it. You locked the door behind them and turned, coming face to face with Joel, who stood a few feet away from you, twirling the oven bolt in his fingers.

The only thing you knew to do was take a breath, so you did. Let it sit and linger in your chest hoping he’d be the one to break the silence.

“Back door’s fixed,”

Ever the gentleman.

With a grateful nod, you approached him. The urge to slap him silly had worn off – long after your parents had grown inquisitive of him. You bowed your head forward and rested it against his chest; the feel of his heartbeat serving as a new exercise in grounding. He wrapped an arm around you, hand settling on your ass again, pride swelling in him when you didn’t reprimand it away as you had earlier.

“You wanna talk about it?” A pause was punctuated with his fingers squeezing your backside. Keeping your head firmly against his chest, you shook it. “Y’wanna help me fix your oven?” Another pause was met with another shake of your head and the laugh that rumbled through Joel’s chest was almost enough to pull you out of the funk your parents had put you into. “How ‘bout you keep me company then, while I get to fixin’ it,”

And that you could agree to. Though not before a kiss to try and make everything better. For the first time that day, despite having spent a fantastic night together, a real, substantial kiss was able to take place. Lips meeting and parting in sync, tongues hesitant until they met each other. Even then, they remained even-paced. Like the unhurried, practiced ministrations of old lovers.

He pulled away first despite a groan from you, and took your hand, leading you into the kitchen. You made for the counter and hopped up on it to supervise while he went straight for the next appliance to fix. As he bent down and opened the oven door, inspecting some of the places the bolt could’ve come from, you wondered how much money you would’ve lost at this point had he not insert himself in your life. First with your bed, then the fridge, and the back door, and now this.

“Y’know, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go to work.”

You blinked, realizing you’d zoned out, staring at his ass. You furrowed your eyebrows, “are you implying I don’t have a job, Miller?”

“No, no. Jus’ implyin’ you’re not very good at it,” he shot you a smile. Only a momentary shift in his focus. Long enough to rile you but not long enough for you to respond before he looked back at the oven and wordlessly set the bolt at what looked to be a hole in the hinge to the oven door missing the exact part.

“I’m a copywriter,” you mused, watching as he plucked a screwdriver (one much larger and serious looking than your floral one) from his toolbox.

He started to tighten the bolt into the hole. “Oh yeah? ‘S’pretty cool,”

“Boring,”

Joel gave the bolt a couple more turns with the screwdriver before it was tightened to his liking. He sat back on his knees and closed the oven door. Fixed. “Well it got you this house, so…”

You nodded in agreement. That job had gotten you everything you’d ever wanted. A house of your own far, far away from blood relatives. A sanctuary. Peace. It had even gotten you something you didn’t think you wanted. A ridiculously attractive, handy neighbor.

Joel was back in front of you then. Hands resting on your thighs, he made a spot for himself between your legs. With you on the counter, he now found you at his height, and lowered his forehead against yours. “You wanna go out and get some dinner with me,”

Arms reached forward and wrapped around his shoulders, “when?”

“Tonight. Now,” he smirked and lifted his head just enough to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, “ya nut.”

“Like a date?”

Now he fully leaned back and cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what was the right answer here. If he said yes, would you read far too into it and climb back into the shell he’d been working you out of? And if he said no, would you be disappointed that he didn’t want to be seen with you in public in that way? As he had done with everything thus far, he decided to go with the truth. Worst case scenario, he’d have to call you out and set you back in line. “Yes,”

And you only nodded. Your arms squeezed over his shoulders, fingertips pressing into the rippling muscles of his back. Surely a date with Joel Miller would be leaps and bounds better than your last date. “Could you do me a favor first?”

Joel smiled. His eyes flicked from yours, up to the top of your head where a piece of hair was threatening to fall loose and dangle in your eyeline. With deft fingertips, he brushed it back and nodded.

“Can you rail me?”

“Are people still saying ‘railed’?” He chuckled and stepped in closer, between your thighs. Hands grabbed on to them with intention.

This time you were the one to push your fingers through his hair, combing through those graying curls. “I think that’s the best adjective for what I want,”

“Yeah?” He studied you, not needing to search too far to realize there was a correlation between the torrid thoughts in your head about your parents, and you wanting him to knock them out. “I think I might be able to do that,” he grinned, partially disheartened. There was doubt on his end whether his body would fail that specific task after the day he’d spent bent over fixing your back door. “Might have to cut an old man some slack,”

You smiled softly and brushed your fingers through his hair again. With a nod and the hooking of your ankles around his back to cage him between your thighs, you planted a kiss to his lips. Just a chaste little thing to kick things off, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he opted to take the reins. But there was still one territory you had yet to venture into: the blowjob. And perhaps that wasn’t necessarily the go-to first step on the road to getting railed, but you were anxious to check it off the list. A nervousness bubbling at the surface even as you pressed against his stomach and inched him a couple steps back. In your eyes you had every right to be. Though you’d never been flat out told you were bad at it, it was never high on your list of pleasurable things to do and you were sure your general lack of enthusiasm around the act was picked up on by the men on the receiving end. Yet in this moment, you still knelt to the floor in front of him, hands fumbling with his jeans as the nerves manifested by causing your fingers to tremble.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to,” Joel whispered, undoubtedly picking up on your anxiety. He even covered your hands with one of his, giving the permission to stop.

The out was appreciated but it didn’t keep you from the task you’d put yourself to. Despite his hands in the way, you managed to unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down with skill you didn’t even know you had. “I want to,”

“Y’sure?”

You tilted your head to the side and glanced up at him. That’s all it took. Because you both knew you wouldn’t have gotten on your knees in the first place if you hadn’t genuinely wanted to be there. And before you lost the nerve to remain there, you nudged his pants down over his ass. Quiet giggles of contentment emanating from you when his hands joined in the fun and helped push the jeans down his thighs and past his knees. Now confronted with a growing (literally) situation, it was impossible for you to subdue the involuntary shiver that ran up your spine and attacked every inch of your body. You tried to dispel it by reaching for Joel’s member; the outline of it straining against his boxer briefs. But that sort of luck wasn’t on your side. Had never been on your side. And every boy you’d ever found yourself in this situation with never so much as blinked an eye before they pushed themselves into your mouth.

But this man in front of you. He was steadfastly attuned to you. Picking up on every single one of the cues. At the sight of your entire body shivering, Joel lowered his hand to the side of your face and brushed your hair away from it. He cupped your jaw and tilted your chin up until you looked up at him again. Waiting for him, you raised a hand and traced the outline of his cock in his underwear, giving it a gentle squeeze after your fingers had run its length.

“Don’t stay down there too long,” he said with a smirk, and catching your questioning look, he glided the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “I’m not gonna last,”

You tried to suppress a smile so as to not give him any ideas that you were going to mock him for it. The truth couldn’t be further from that. In actuality, you were flattered by the admission, and more than a little thankful that it seemed to serve as another out for you. You’d get to cross something off whatever list you’d made up in your mind, but wouldn’t have to be committed to be at it for very long. That somehow seemed to relieve some of the pressure you’d put on yourself.

“Get to work, pretty girl,” he murmured, taking you out of whatever inner monologue had you so preoccupied. “Just a taste,”

Focused back at his waist, you peeled back his underwear, reaching in with your free hand to take him out of the tight fabric. It wasn’t the first time you were seeing the sheer size of him but being on it face first now made it seem that much bigger. How you ever managed to fit it inside you was one thing. How you’d fit it in your mouth was another. Yet you started on, pressing your lips to the underside of the head softly, and moving down his length with brief kisses. Joel let out a deep breath through his nose and let his fingertips toy with your hair. You hadn’t noticed that his eyes were glued to you until you looked up at him and caught his stare. Opening your mouth and purposefully batting your eyelashes, you took him into your mouth and let your tongue swirl around the crown. It was the first thing you did that made Joel let out a throaty groan. So you repeated the action and got the same lusty response from him.

“That’s good, sweetheart,”

Your mouth stretched wider around him to accommodate a smile, but then you gently shook your head side to side, working your lips lower and lower on his shaft. At about halfway, you realized there was no shot of taking him in his entirety. The temptation to gag was already there and you lifted your hands to the remainder of his length to help along. But then you felt one of Joel’s hands migrate to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, and your body stiffened on instinct. Flicking your eyes upward and catching Joel with his head tilted back and jaw slack, you kept your body stiff, trying to work through that impact. Then you closed your eyes hoping that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see you, and the fear growing in your gut would dissipate.

Maybe it was the tension in your jaw. Maybe he picked up on the tension in your entire body. Regardless, his fingers, albeit still tangled in your hair, seemed to grow gentler. A lack of pressure while still being present. “‘M’not gonna push you down on it,”

Eyes flicked back open to inspect him. A pink hue had arisen in his neck and was working its way up to his cheeks. His nostrils flared in his damnedest attempt to keep himself from thrusting deeper down your throat. Catching that his words were the truth, you relaxed once again; the anxiety fleeing every fiber of your being. Consciously back in your body and picking back up where you’d left off, you tilted your head to the side, allowing the head of his cock to press along the inside of your cheek. The sight of your mouth stretched to accommodate him resulted in a low pitched growl from Joel. Something terribly needy. Hungry.

You noticed his eyes flutter shut while the muscles in his stomach flexed and released in a steady procession. The sinew in his forearm flexed, too, with the clenching of his fist in your hair. And given slightly more freedom by the lack of eye contact, you pulled your lips off his shaft and replaced it with quick, sloppy strokes from your hand. Your mouth was not far from him for long. Lips navigating around the way your hand held his member up, you pressed them to his balls and smirked to yourself when you saw the way his body responded when you eventually rolled your tongue over them, paying each temporary attention.

Joel kept his promise and didn’t use his grip on your hair to press you down on him, but did use it in order to pull you off of him. Your swollen lips fell open when you were forced to stare up at him, his chest heaving like his heart was trying to break free from its cage.

“That’s enough,” he growled and all but lifted you back to your feet without any help from you.

It took him no time at all to spin you around with ass pressed back against the edge of the counter. He set one hand on the granite top behind you and cupped the other down past the waistband of your cotton pants. His fingers found your clit with practiced ease. A move he’d obviously spent the better half of his life perfecting. And no sooner did his fingers trail along your slit, your lips met each other with fervor. The barrier of your parents for the most of the day had created a feeding frenzy between you. Neither able to get as much as you wanted fast enough. Mashing of lips and tongues. Teeth grazing against soft, plush skin. You were all erratic movements and whimpering pleas to keep going. Only when Joel pressed two fingers inside of you did your mouth drop open, causing a delay. An airy gasp floated out of your lungs and into the space between.

Joel dropped his forehead to yours, eyes piercing into you though you weren’t returning his gaze. How could you? Fingers down to their last knuckle had you squeezing your eyes shut and doing your absolute best to not become a trembling mess then and there.

“Please… please,” you sobbed, fingernails digging into his back. You knew crescent-shaped marks would be littering his skin despite the flannel. You were marking him. Yours for now. Yours for tonight.

An almost sadistic smile crossed Joel’s lips. Fingers curled inside of you and sent you lurching forward, wrapping up against his chest. Legs already shaking and squeezing shut around his hand. “Look at you. Already begging f’me,” he lowered himself just enough to tuck his head to your neck, leaving love bites on your skin. “Suckin’ my cock got you so wet. Already desperate for it,”

“Joel,”

“Tell me,”

You raised your hips into the heel of his palm, finding that friction on your clit was just about the last thing you needed to get to the first climax of the evening. Fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, tugging him close as if that was going to be the thing that’d get him to keep his fingers inside you. Really, you knew he didn’t have any intention of letting you go without them. But the new closeness, and the way he towered over you, a looming presence with broad, square shoulders diminishing any size you might’ve had… and the smell of him… You came with a whimper, unable to have forewarned him of the spring being snapped inside you. His fingers slowed only enough so as to not hurt you but never stopped entirely. Even when you tried to wriggle away from him, overstimulated. He just curled his fingers inside of you again, against the spongy front of your throbbing core, and kept you right at the edge you’d just fallen over.

“Please–God, please, fuck me,” you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his shaft again, tugging and stroking him impatiently.

“I know that mouth can do better than that,” he mocked. “Tell me,”

You could cry, wanting something far more substantial inside you than two of his fingers. “I need it, Joel. Please,” stinging tears threatened to fall from the corners of your eyes. “Want you to bend me over and fuck me,” you figured you were on the right track when he slowly eased his fingers out of your dripping hole and replaced them with quick circles over your bundle of sensitive nerves. “Want you to make it hurt,”

While to you, you didn’t notice any hesitation on Joel’s end. He just spun you around and bent you over the countertop. He kicked your feet out from under you until you were being held up solely by the counter and the press of his hips. But he had clocked your words. Make it hurt. Knew he wanted to remember that. Knew he wanted to talk about that at some later time.

Make it hurt.

He grabbed your wrists and secured them behind your back with one of his hands while his other went to the base of his cock and notched it at your entrance. Still dripping from your first orgasm, it was enough to not notice the stretch from the head too greatly. But then he moved that hand to the back of your head and pressed against it, holding you down on the countertop. You were defenseless. Unable to move at all. Hands rendered useless and body being held in place for every one of his whims. And there wasn’t any time to process before he snapped his hips forward and buried himself inside you to the hilt. Bottomed out in one fell swoop. A scream erupted from your throat, very nearly feeling like your vocal cords would be on their way to being shredded. Joel shushed you; a hiss between clenched teeth, only giving a second for your string of loud breaths to sound a little less pained before he began to move, stretching you to the max with each drag and push.

It didn’t take long for those screams and breaths to quiet down to nothing. Just a mouth gaping open, sucking wind as his length rubbed against the deepest parts of you. He wasn’t holding back. He was doing just as you’d asked. He was making it hurt. But your quietness was thwarted by his hand coming down hard against your ass. It was only then that you’d realized he’d removed it from the back of your head. A deep gasp filled your lungs with fresh air. The smack had left a sting and burn on your skin, and the returned noise from you spurred Joel on.

He landed another spank to the opposite cheek, flesh bouncing beneath it from both his hand and the press of his cock. “You like that, huh?” Another spank, this time his hand didn’t pull away on the impact, and instead his fingers dug into your fleshy backside, “look even prettier with my handprint on ya’.” His hips faltered, progress stuttered when you clenched around him, pulling him deeper. He used that momentum to lean forward and bite into the back of your shoulder, “good fuckin’ girl. So fuckin’ tight. Love it so much,”

“It’s yours,” you panted, legs having gone completely out beneath you. You were sure you’d crumble to the floor if he parted from you. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“Hmm?” he hummed, burying his face in the back of your head, “I’m gonna come.”

“I’m yours. It’s all yours,”

A particularly hard thrust squished you against the counter, your hipbone colliding with it. You yelped and you weren’t sure if it was from the painful impact on your hip or the feeling of Joel spilling into you. He kept himself deep. Short thrusts to fill you with his spend, and only once he’d finished pushing it into you as deep as he could, did he pull out. Though you hadn’t come, you felt well-fucked despite it. Not even missing the rush of a second orgasm. But no sooner had he pulled out, were you being whirled around, facing him now; your ass notched at the cool, stone countertop. He stared endlessly into your eyes and pushed himself back inside you without a second thought. Only when he’d sheathed himself in completely and caught your off-kilter expression, did he move his hand up to your neck, fingers squeezing either side of it.

“Didn’t think we were done, did you, sweetheart?” He squeezed your neck a little tighter and you reached up to hold onto his wrist. You applied no pressure to get him to loosen his grip, just kept it there for the contact. “I know this pussy’s got one more orgasm in her,”

A guttural moan left your body. The new angle was far more conducive to your pleasure. The base of him rubbing up against your clit. Your eyes blinked languidly, threatening to stay closed, but Joel used his grasp on your neck to shake you. Once your eyes fully opened again, he brought his free hand to the back of your head and gave your hair a generous tug.

“C’mon, pretty girl. You can do it. Soak me,”

He mashed his lips back to yours and licked his way into your mouth. It was everything you wanted. Needed. The overwhelmingness of his size. The dominance. The control. Your walls fluttered around him and he urged you on some more. Words of encouragement matched by the strengthening of his hold on your throat or the one in your hair. And when you came, eyes drifting shut and remaining so, body convulsing and squeezing his length, you felt his hands loosening their hold on you. Not leaving completely, but certainly not applying any type of pressure as they had just previously been.

Your body went limp in his arms. Had it not been for your heavy breaths, he might’ve thought he’d done some actual damage. But your breaths were trying to grow steadier and were mixed with the whimpers of someone who’d asked for one thing, had gotten it, and now needed something else entirely.

Joel pressed his lips to the side of your head, lingering against your temple as he carefully stepped out of his pants and underwear that had bunched up at his ankles. You groaned at the soft jostling it created for, and Joel just hushed you and tucked his arms around your back and beneath your knees. He lifted you up and kept you cradled to his chest where you complained again. This time a quick mention of his back.

“I got’cha, sweetheart,” he bounced you in his arms just once to get a better hold on your body. “Don’t worry about it,”

Eyes completely shut, too heavy to keep them open for very long, you knew he was carrying you to the bathroom. This man and your pH balance. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on to him as tightly as you could, wanting no amount of separation. But before you knew it, you felt the cold porcelain of the toilet beneath you. Joel’s hands uncurling your arms from around his neck, then moving to the hem of your shirt and pulling it off, over your head. Soon thereafter, he unhooked your bra and slid it off your arms.

Concern started to work its way into Joel’s bones. The sight of you, nearly swaying to the side when he released you completely. He made quick work of turning the shower on, fearing you’d topple to the side and hit your head on the way down. Returning to you with urgency, he crouched down and brushed your hair away from your neck, searching for any marks he’d left behind. “Y’alright?” He whispered, finding some red patches on your skin but none too definitive to be seen as marks from his fingers.

Eyes still closed, you pressed a smile, “good.” You blinked your tired eyes open, looking down at your feet as Joel unraveled your pants from around your ankles that had been hanging on by a thread. “You hurt me like I asked you to,”

His eyes flicked up to you. Make it hurt. The words he was holding onto. He held onto these new ones too, keeping them for later. “Maybe too much,” he murmured, gathering a wipe from on top of the toilet tank.

“No,”

Though you’d said it in earnest, he had a hard time believing it. Your eyes were mostly closed. But his eyes were seeing all the consequences of the way he’d handled you. Thinking better of fighting you on that, he helped you up from the toilet. His body kept you upright while he wiped along your slit, cleaning up the mess he’d so haphazardly made. You were pliant in his arms, willing to trust that he’d take care of you as he always had, despite the new territory you’d ventured into today with each other.

He led you to the shower and carefully peeled his flannel shirt from his body while helping maintain your balance. As he helped you in and kept his chest flush to your back, he caught sight of the bruise forming on the left side of your hip and knew it had been his doing. Easing down to the floor, both sat at the end of the steady stream of water, warm against you both from the shower and from Joel’s body heat. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, turning in toward his neck.

“Sure you’re alright?” He set his cheek down on top of your head and wrapped his arms around you, “I marked you up pretty good.”

“I’m okay,” you insisted. “I don’t break easily,”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

Now with open eyes, you tilted your head back and looked up at him. Your smile caught his worried expression and you hoped to dispel it. He’d only done as you asked. And so perfectly so. Maybe he’d ask you about it somewhere down the line. Why you’d asked him to make it hurt? Why had that been the chosen wording? It was evident in his eyes now that he likely wouldn’t be so accommodating to comply the next time you asked him to make it hurt. Yet you raised your hands and curled them behind his head to get him closer to you. Close enough to kiss. Slowly. Tenderly. Quiet assurance that he was still the good man you knew him to be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the one you need

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dimepdf · 1 year

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𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘, 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.+ 𝐊Ö𝐍𝐈𝐆

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. you miss König a lot, and every time he comes back, you make sure to make up for lost time.

pairing. König x reader

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, dating headcanons, established relationship, smitten, relationship fluff, size kink, height difference, slight dom/sub, slight choking, cowboy position, save a horse ride a cowboy | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍 800+ w.c.

König as your broad nervous boyfriend is awkward not in the way that he stutters while trying to talk, but in the way that he simply cannot maintain eye contact without his third leg appearing.

König would be so afraid to even touch you sometimes since he's just towering over you and packed with so much muscle, and he's been literally trained to kill one of his fears, which is that he might accidentally break you into two.

And it doesn't completely help that you find that idea so fucking hot. Often would you tempt the poor man's neglected, touched starved soul.

Combing the nails of your fingers against his scalp as he rested his head against your thigh dozing off, cupping his chiseled jaw, and placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth leaving just a hint of sweet flavor from your lip balm that has him tongue dragging over his bottom lip every time as if he was starving for your kisses.

Unwinding him like a ball of string at your will, the second you crawl into Konig's lap, demanding his attention, straddling your thighs against his, he knows just from the look in your eyes just what you've been fidgeting all this time for.

The acrylic of your nails made crescent nail marks into the thick build of his neck as you tilted his head up, just like you had managed to take so much authority from him. König seemed to feel most at ease whenever he was in your presence.

Being out on the front lines and surviving all that trauma and violence König had practically grown up in the rough of the fields, knowing that he had gotten his footing in the military when he had just turned the required age too.

He was well aware that coping with his bad anxiety through violence and expressing his emotions solely through brutal combat was both dangerous and extremely unhealable.

Luckily, a new addiction came along to replace some of that pent-up hatred: the moment he had laid his eyes on you, he had fallen face-first in love with you.

You had always been the one to make the first move for everything, and if you hadn't introduced yourself and been forward with him the day you two had met, König was convinced that he just wouldn't have the guts to even look in your direction.

The six-foot-ten man with muscles bigger than the spread of your thigh who still managed to melt into a flustering mess of nothing every time you kissed him

König was everything you could have asked for and more in a man, whimpering at your small praise and strings of worship in your eyes.

When you first met König, he just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

Finally having a break from his mission, he and the crew took the night off to wind down with a few drinks at one of your town's bars.

It was impossible for König to blend in like the others, even sitting down, because his height made him stick out like a sore thumb.

You being the naturally born go-getter that saw the window of opportunity and snatched it.

It was your forwardness that also made König struggle to not stumble over every slightly suggestive comment that you made about him.

That forwardness was also the reason he would become a whining, sweaty mess, his hands gripping onto the cushions of your couch as if you were trying to snatch his soul.

The deep moans that slipped from his throat made him sound like a modern-day porn star from how needy you were riding him.

His head slouched back with his eyes squeezed shut, saying your name as if it were a prayer.

Just the sight of him all unraveled and begging had added fuel to the fire that had been lit inside. "Uh—ah, I missed you so much," he would whimper from under you.

You understood that his field of career had him traveling for long months, possibly to a different country every night, with the possibility that he wouldn't come home to you alive.

Which was why every time he did it, you showed König how much you had truly missed him by fucking the shit out of him.

Holding him down against the mattress with the weight of your body as you rode him, each thigh spread, straddling his hips in place, you met the pace of his needy thrusts.

You wanted to savor moments like these forever, knowing that you were the only one allowed to see König so desperate like this and that you were the only person that had the power to distract him from the job that he dedicated his entire life to.

🔖 ?

tap here to be added to taglist.

literally was writing this in the emergency room minutes away from getting operated on, please my vitals nurse for pretending not to see my google docs sheet.

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starryeyedjanai · 7 months

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when the tide turns

@flufftober prompt: enemies at first sight @eddiemonth prompt: cavalier 2.7k | rated: teen tags: "enemies" at first sight, misunderstandings, idiots to idiots in love, first kiss, demiromantic eddie

read on ao3

Eddie wouldn't go so far as to say the first time he bumped into Steve Harrington, it was enemies at first sight, but it was a close thing.

He was just trying to get to his professor's office hours, when they collided right outside of Professor Click's office. It sent the pen Eddie had in his hand flying across the hallway in the opposite direction.

And he hadn't even apologized, this guy. He just kept it moving, like Eddie was the one who was in the way.

Eddie went to get his pen and turned back to find this guy inside Click's office, asking questions about the homework. The only reason Eddie's a little bitter about it is because he was kind of there first, right? He would have made it there before him if he hadn't brushed past him like he was the only person with places to be.

And then he'd had to wait his turn, taking his headphones off and listening to this guy ask the exact same questions he had about the assignment, Professor Click's voice too low and the sound of the air conditioning too high for him to catch what she was saying.

So he was annoyed. That this guy had just basically cut him in line and didn't even apologize for it.

And what's that one phenomenon where it's like once you notice something, you keep noticing it?

Whatever it's called, it's happening to Eddie right now. He runs into this guy one time, and now he's seeing him everywhere.

Once Eddie notices Steve, once he literally bumps into him trying to get to his calculus professor's office hours, it's like he can't stop seeing him everywhere.

And yes, now he has a name.

Eddie didn't know this guy existed two weeks ago and now he knows his name.

After the office hours debacle, then it was the cafeteria, seeing this guy in line, grabbing the last of the chicken tenders, a couple people in front of Eddie. So he had to wait, again, because of him, while they fried up some more. And yeah, maybe it's just a coincidence that the second time he sees this guy is when he's inconveniencing him again, but it feels like it's more than a coincidence.

The third time he sees him, before he ever knows his name was in the library, when this guy was sitting in his seat. Legitimately, literally, actually sitting in his fucking seat.

He got up to go to the bathroom and came back to find his stuff moved and this asshole sitting in his seat - arguably one of the only comfy chairs on this floor of the library. And, okay, maybe he was hogging it for a while, but who the hell just moves someone's stuff like that?

So it wasn't enemies at first sight, technically, but by the third time obviously Eddie is thinking of this guy as his nemesis, his first college nemesis. His first nemesis, period. Because he took his seat, he took his spot during office hours, and he took the last goddamn chicken tender.

And now he has verifiable proof that it's not just a coincidence. That this guy has it out for him personally for some reason.

Because he turned in his Intro to Fiction assignment for peer review and some guy named Steve absolutely ripped into his assignment, saying his interpretation of the religious aspects of Old Man and the Sea lacked nuance.

He looks up Steve on the registrar's website - there's no one named Steve in his Fiction class, so he must be in the other section of this class that meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

He finds a million Steve's that go to their school, but narrows it down some based on their year. Clicking into every single account to look at the grainy little picture from everyone's student IDs is time consuming, but there's a dire need in him to know who the hell this guy thinks he is.

He luckily doesn't have to scroll too far because he finds Steve and wouldn't you fucking know it? Steve Harrington is the same motherfucker who's slighted him multiple times in the few short weeks since they've been back at school.

He does some digging on Facebook and comes up short because this guy has so little personality in his online presence, it's shocking how this could be the same guy who left him a scathing peer review. Other than finding evidence of some weird little frenemy thing he has going on with some guy and the guy's girlfriend, there's nothing.

So Eddie just silently seethes every time he sees Steve and wonders what the hell is going on inside that pretty little head of his.

Truth be told, there were much worse people at Indy State than Steve, but something about him just gets under Eddie's skin. His cavalier attitude, maybe, the way he can just rip into someone's perfectly good paper, how nonchalant he seems to be about everything - it all makes Eddie want to shake him until he gets a reaction out of him.

He's maybe a little bit obsessed, but he's never claimed to be normal about anything in his life ever.

It's nearing midterms when he finds Steve sitting in the only comfortable chair on the third floor of the library and he groans, turning away to go to a different floor.

"Oh, wait, Eddie?" he hears as he's walking away.

And there's no way.

There's no way this guy knows his name. There's no way this guy is calling his name like he knows him, like they know each other.

He turns back around and Steve is walking up to him.

He squints his eyes at him. "Yeah?"

"I thought that was you. Hey, I know you're in Click's calculus class and I'm really struggling with wrapping my head around some of this stuff. Do you want to study together for the midterm?" Steve asks and Eddie's entire world tilts on its axis.

Why would Steve want to be study buddies with him?

Eddie's literally flabbergasted, but he finds his voice and says, "But I thought you hated me."

Steve looks confused. He says, "I don't, I don't hate you. I don't even know you? But I definitely don't hate you."

And Eddie sputters because no way was this all in his head. He says, "But what about the first time we ran into each other? You breezed past me to get to Professor Click first. You didn't even say sorry when you knocked into me."

And Steve still has that cute, confused look on his face. He replies, "If I bumped into you, I definitely would have said sorry. Maybe you had your headphones in? I know you wear them around campus a lot."

Steve noticed him around campus?

"O-okay, sure, maybe I had my headphones in and didn't hear you. But you stole my chair that one time," Eddie says, nodding over at said chair.

Steve looks back at the chair and actually looks a little repentant about that one, so Eddie knows he's right. He had to have done it on purpose.

But Steve says, "I am sorry about that one. That chair is the only remotely comfortable one up here though. And I only took it because you were gone for so long. I got up here and no one was sitting there so I waited for like ten minutes before moving your stuff. I thought you were one of those people who leave their stuff on the good chairs while they're in class, which is such a bitch move. But then you came back and I was gonna apologize, but you just took your stuff and left so quickly."

He does look like he feels bad about it.

And he's not wrong, is the thing. Eddie went to the bathroom and then saw Jeff from his chemistry lab there and he remembered a question he had, so they talked for a while before he headed back to his seat.

When he got back and saw Steve had taken his seat and moved his stuff to one of the other available chairs, he basically saw red and gathered up his shit and left. He was fuming about that for days. And Steve didn't even do it maliciously, apparently.

"What about my English assignment? You ripped my analysis of Old Man and the Sea apart."

Steve snorts and says, "Lacks nuance about the religious themes?" and when Eddie nods, he says, "I wrote that on everyone's assignment. Professor Brenner doesn't look at what we write. He tallies up how many times you comment on other people's stuff and that's how he determines your online participation grade."

Eddie knew he wasn't reading those fucking comments, that old bastard.

But it appears that this feud between him and Steve has been all in Eddie's head.

And that kind of makes him upset. Because he's been running around under the impression that he had a nemesis for the first time and this dude has probably never thought about him a day in his life before today. Upsetting.

"Oh, man, I seriously thought you hated me this entire time," he says with a sheepish look on his face.

"Nah, man. I, uh, I actually keep seeing you everywhere on campus and noticed you're really good at math. And I could really use a study buddy, if you're interested?" Steve asks, sounding hopeful.

What the hell. Why not?

He says, "If you can help quiz me on some of my chemistry shit, I will totally make numbers make sense to you."

And so it begins.

Now, the problem is that he's hanging around Steve so much that it has the opposite effect of what he thought was going on before.

Hanging out with him, with how well they get along together, playing video games together, just doing normal stuff - it all has him kind of craving more.

He feels like Steve is all he thinks about now. And okay, maybe he thought about him a lot before, when he thought they were nemeses, but it's different now that he knows him.

Everything he learns about him, he likes. Every new part of him he sees, he likes. He's never been like this about anyone before.

Steve shows him a picture of him and his friend's dog and Eddie is shooting heart eyes at it the entire time, cooing about how cute his dog is.

Steve tells him he likes playing silly video games with his friends like Surgeon Simulator and Eddie buys a monthly subscription to Xbox Gamepass for his laptop so he can play that stupid game with him.

Steve needs help editing an English paper and Eddie is kind of bad at English, especially citations, but he looks up APA citations and helps him figure it out.

Steve likes playing frisbee with his Ultimate friends and Eddie is signing up for the intramural frisbee competition with him because his team needed another person even though he fucking hates organized sports, especially stupid ass ones like frisbee.

He's kind of got a bit of a Steve problem and it's hard to shake. He's everywhere and even when he's not around, Eddie is thinking about him, about his stupid, perfect hair, about his eyes, about his smile. All things he didn't let himself think about when he thought Steve hated him.

But now, once the floodgates opened, he can't get Steve out of his head.

He likes him way too much, likes hanging out with him way too much.

The semester closes out with Eddie in way deeper than he ever thought he could be. He's never really fallen for someone like this and he doesn't know what to do about it.

Because he knows Steve and Robin are platonic soulmates now, and he knows Steve isn't seeing anyone, but he doesn't know if Steve even likes guys, if he even likes him. He knows they hang out a lot, but that doesn't mean Steve thinks of him as a friend or anything. He's so not equipped to deal with this.

He spends all break moping and pining, so much so that Wayne asks about it, asks who's got him in such a tangle. And Eddie blushes hard when he tells Wayne about his crush.

Wayne looks at him and says, "If this is that boy you stayed up on the phone with playing your little video games with until 5 in the morning the other day, I don't think you have anything to worry about, son."

Eddie scoffs. "He just, he likes playing these stupid co-op games that the kids he used to babysit for got him into. We didn't mean to stay up that late."

"All I'm saying is I wouldn't stay up all night talking to someone I didn't like," Wayne says and it feels like everything comes into focus suddenly.

Steve and Eddie have been hanging out for months, getting to know each other, studying together - sometimes just talking, completely forgetting about their homework or whatever quiz they're studying for, staying until the staff is literally kicking them out of the library.

Steve's best friend is a lesbian.

Steve has texted him every single day since the semester ended.

If nothing else, Steve is probably one of the best friends he's ever had.

He gets back to campus in mid-January and knows he's going to tell Steve, somehow, that he's into him. It might not be right away, but he's going to do it.

He sees Steve the afternoon he gets back and can't help the way his face lights up when he sees him. He's missed him, even though he spent all break talking to him, texting him, staying up way too late with him voice chatting while they played whatever game Steve was obsessed with that week.

Steve's standing in front of his dorm building like he's been waiting for Eddie outside ever since he texted him saying he was coming over.

As soon as Eddie gets close enough, Steve pulls him into a hug and Eddie sinks into it like he's finally home, like in Steve's arms is where he belongs.

They stand there in the cold of the winter, in each other's arms, and Eddie knows what it means to want - with the way his heart clenches and he feels every hair on his arm standing at being so close to Steve.

They pull away and Eddie is suddenly ready to say it, ready to tell Steve how he feels, ready for whatever consequences there may be to that.

But he doesn't have to.

Because as soon as they pull away, Steve stays close and presses his mouth to Eddie's, just a soft, dry press.

Eddie's breath catches in his throat and his hand comes up to cup Steve's neck as their lips slide together a second time, as Eddie opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Steve's arms wind back around him and Eddie wants to stay here forever.

The world around them is chilly, but Eddie feels so warm right now, wrapped up in Steve's arms, with Steve's mouth against his, with Steve's tongue against his.

Steve pulls back from the kiss and smiles at him - this shy, little smile that Eddie's never seen on him before.

"I was hoping you'd kiss me back," Steve says, like there was ever any doubt. Thinking about Steve wanting this, thinking about this, has Eddie's mind spinning. How long has Steve liked him?

He says, "I mean, I think I had a crush on you even when I thought we were nemeses."

That gets Steve to laugh. "You're such a dork. Nemeses."

"Hey, you just kissed this dork," he says, noticing how close they're still standing, noticing how easy it would be to just lean back in and kiss him again.

"I did," Steve says, the expression on his face soft and fond. "Let me take you to lunch? Not in the caf. Somewhere else?"

"You tryna wine and dine me, Harrington?"

"And if I am?" Steve asks.

Eddie grins at him. "I just might let you," he says, leaning in again.

#steddie #stranger things #flufftober2023 #eddiemonth #eddie munson #steve harrington #st fic #st ficlet #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #janai.doc

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azzandra · 1 year

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Really nice pleasant dream I had last night: it featured one of those evil entities that get sealed away with magic in the backstory of generic fantasy novels. Just a kind of featureless, stormy cloud monster that used to terrorize the populace before getting sealed into a pocket dimension by heroes.

Now, at first the ancient sealed evil is really pissed at this. The pocket dimension is basically a black night overhead, and black sand underfoot. It isn't dark, exactly, because there seems to be light where the monster floats around, but there is literally just nothing in every direction, so it might as well be a void.

Except the monster still leaves footsteps on the sand. Now, if the monster turns one way or the other and loses sight of the footsteps, they disappear by the time it looks back. But that is pretty much all there is in this void.

So the monster sits down one day, reaches out a claw from its otherwise formless cloud body, and draws a single straight line in the sand.

It realizes then that it has created something.

Now, a single line is not impressive, but for a creature that only ever spent its time destroying things, this is its very first act of creation, so it's a monumental accomplishment. What it created isn't as significant as the fact that it created anything at all. It deliberately made that line in the sand, and it was something that would not exist without the monster willing it and acting to make it happen. This is the domain of gods. It's boggling that humans have had this ability from the start.

It adds another line. And another. It arranges the lines and its next epiphany is that patterns can be thus created. It sits in one place, turning slowly as it draws in the sand around it, and by the time it returns to the position it has started, the sand is newly erased and it can draw in it anew. Sometimes, it creates something that it likes so much, that it sits and stares for a very long time, knowing that the creation is impermanent and will disappear when it turns around. It likes the shapes, and sometimes its creations turn out more pleasing than it imagined them before creation.

A long time passes. Centuries? Millennia? The ancient evil does not notice.

This could have been a long, torturous eternity for it, but it went by incredibly fast.

One day, it happens. Some uppity mortals make the ill-advised decision to release this ancient evil upon the world. The pocket dimension wavers, and a rip of bright yellow light appears in the air, showing the monster how to escape its prison.

The ancient evil does not hesitate. It bolts right through this opening. It bolts past figures in black robes, gathered in a circle for the ritual that released it. It bolts past the heavy wooden doors, slamming them open so suddenly that the heroes coming too late to stop the ritual are startled.

It whizzes through the air without stopping, and heads directly to an art supply store.

#dream journaling for fun and profit

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dontmixpaintinyourcoffee · 6 months

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I've thought about the contradictions between Abstinence Camp and NPMD a lot, specifically with Pete, and I think I kind of love them??? I don't know how intentional this was, and I honestly don't care, but think about it- Pete is confident in himself and his ability, but he struggles with the difference between how he sees himself vs how others see him. He's got some identity issues, that's normal, but they don't show up at all in Abstinence Camp, there's not even a hint of trepidation in his friendship with Steph. The only time he even mentions being a loser is when he thinks it might negatively affect Steph's reputation, but that's concern for her, not himself.

The main thing that got me was the motivation change with his outfit. In Abstinence Camp he says that he wears the classic nerd look on the advice of his cool older brother, committing to an aesthetic. In NPMD he says that the outfit is specifically designed to prevent as much harassment as possible. Those two things didn't really click in my head until the thought popped up- what if he's just lying? Camp Idontwannabang has a strict social hierarchy for sure, but it's one that Pete doesn't have any reason to care about. You show up for the summer, you do the dumb activities, you have a bad time for a few months, you go home. There isn't a Max at Camp Idontwannabang. Sure, there's the Axe-Man, but he's just a scary story, the Boogeyman to blame when kids go missing in the woods. All he does, hypothetically, is kill you. Very bad, but he doesn't follow you home, drag you through the dirt, humiliate you for years on end, frighten everyone else into leaving you behind. So when Steph asks about the bow tie, why would he say the truth? Why would he drag all that baggage into a place where he is finally separated from it? Yeah. I wear it because I like to wear it. I make the choice to wear these things this way. I want to stick with this look. I feel cool.

He's been beat down since the fourth grade, not just by direct attacks on him, but by the attacks on people around him. Every choice he makes is in direct response to how Max has reacted to a similar choice in the past. The whole reason he wears a bow tie is to avoid what happened to Travis Colson. His most iconic fashion choice isn't really his own. It's a defensive reaction. All the nerds at Hatchetfield High are basically living in survival mode. The threat isn't just not being accepted, or being challenged by mean kids, the threat is getting the shit kicked out of you. The threat is being harassed and humiliated so badly and so constantly that you have to literally change your home address.

One of my favorite NPMD scenes is the scene at Pasquale's parking lot, because this might be the first piece of media I've ever seen that actually understands why people don't "stand up" to bullies. Sometimes when someone wants to hurt you, they will just do it. Max doesn't need a reason to hurt people. He just wants to, and he doesn't see any reason not to. Pete tries to establish himself, hoping that Max is putting up a front, hiding behind a tough façade. And he might be. But that doesn't stop him from beating Pete until his fists bruise over.

Pete isn't just hyping himself up or trying to act confident in front of a cool girl. Pete is reclaiming his autonomy. Because he doesn't get to make decisions for himself at school, it's all a futile effort to keep out of Max's line of sight. But anywhere else he gets to decide why he does things. And I just think that's neat.

#npmd #nerdy prudes must die #abstinence camp #nightmare time 2 #peter spankoffski #hatchetfield #my brain is so full rn and the space is exclusively occupied by the sad teens of Hatchetfield #wow there was a lot of jazz hands during that murder

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stumachersfavoritegirl · 1 year

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His Favorite Girl <3

(Stu Macher x reader)

Disclaimer: The use of Y/N pertains to you inserting your own name. The main character in the story is you, but you just have a a different description. Imagination is fun girlies ;3 Thank you for understanding and enjoy!

Chapter 1: Just 3 more hours...

The fourth bell of the day rings, and I'm finally excused from Algebra. I quickly gather my textbooks in my arms, grabbing the strap of my backpack as I head towards the exit of the classroom. Everyone begins to swarm the doorway however, and I'm stuck waiting for them when someone bumps my right shoulder, hard. My glasses fall slightly farther down my nose and I snap my head to the right. "Watch it!" Low and behold, it's Tatum Riley. She basically hisses at me, and I avoid her eyes. Fucking Bitch. I know she did it on purpose, the way gossip flows through Woodsboro High, I'm pretty sure immediately after Stu left my sight, someone already told Tatum he was conversing with me. They probably exaggerated us hugging, or at least, him hugging me. And I could tell this was the case, because until today, she's never even looked in my direction. Now apparently, I'm "in her way"? I mutter a pathetic "...Sorry", and she scoffs dramatically. "That won't be the only thing you're sorry for. Stu is mine. Don't forget it loser." she says before pushing past me and literally every other student in front of her, and no one even dares to open their mouth and protest. She's Stu Machers girlfriend, even me simply saying sorry is the beginning of my demise. But I shake the thought, and as the entryway clears out, I quickly brush past others as I finally enter the hallway. I dig my headphones and cassette player out of my backpack, resting the headphones on my head and pressing play on the cassette. "Bonez" by Mr.Floyd Larry begins to play, and I let the noise take me somewhere serene, somewhere that isn't this hellhole with these assholes. I fix my glasses as I walk to my locker to put my books away, it's finally lunch time and I couldn't be more nervous and grossly, more sweaty. This will probably be the most exciting thing that's happened to me for the rest of the school year and I'm not even mad at it. To have Stu Machers attention about anything, younger me would be excessively gushing at the thought. We're talking sophomore year to senior year long obsession! Wet dreams, fluff dreams, anything my mind could think of pertaining him. But instead of gushing, I feel nauseated. I reach my locker and open it, when a white folded piece of paper falls to the ground. I place my books inside before bending down to sweep it up. I look around me, trying to pinpoint any eyes on me, but when I see none I go back to the note, opening it. It's in big red writing that looks cursive, but it's really just sloppy and the thick ink bleeds through the paper and onto my fingers.

"Change of plans. Meet me at the Woodsboro Coffee and Bagel shop around 4. Maybe dress up a little for me, huh? I know there's something underneath those baggy shirts you love to wear.

-You know who I am ;) "

I definitely know who it was. My cheeks immediately start to heat up and I quickly close the note, looking around before shoving it in my locker. Coincidently, the brews right down the street from my house, and my parents are having a date night tonight so they won't know how long I'll be out. I nod in approval as I close my locker and pull my other bag strap over my shoulder. Ok, not bad. This gives me way more time to prepare. I can run home and quickly change, probably do something with my hair that'll make me look different, but not like I'm trying too hard, ya know? I sigh loudly as the song ends, and I pull my cassette player out of my pocket before entering the lunch room, rolling my eyes at the excessively long lunch line. I drag my feet to join the line when-

"Stop it Stu! This isn't funny, they said you kissed her!"

I look to my right and see Tatum and Stu, with Tatums back to the wall and Stu brooding over her, extending his arm to lean against the wall with it. I quickly step to the side and out of everyones way before standing behind a pillar, pretending to have trouble with my headphones and cassette player. When I notice no ones looking, I peer over and listen.

"Come on, you know I don't like this jealous shit. You're my Tatum." He says, grabbing her face gently before bending down to quickly peck her lips. She closes her eyes as he does this, and he almost lets his lips linger there, before pulling away and leaning against the wall again.

"I only want you babe. Why even believe school gossip anyway? I've heard a lot of stuff about you, but I never believed it." He shakes his head, never breaking eye contact with her, but she does with him as she rolls her eyes dramatically. "Please Stu, what could you possibly have heard about me that I haven't about you?" She says, testing him. She snarls her face as she says this and he grazes the room, hesitating before slightly chuckling. "It doesn't even matter. I mean, why are we still even talking about this? When this day ends, who will I be with?" He asks her endearingly, his voice softens and he bends down to get more to her level. "Huh?" He says, amusing her, moving closer and closer to her face. "Who?" He asks one more time playfully, there lips are basically touching and she rolls her eyes, scoffing meekly before kissing him. "You stupid." She surrenders and he smiles something so mischievous. "Wanna go for a quickie?" He sticks his tongue out to lick her nose and she playfully smacks his shoulder, smirking as she rolls her eyes at his perverse remark. He fakes a theatrical "ow" before bending down again to wrap his hands around her waist, picking her up to bury his face in her neck. "I gotta get you for that. You know better." She giggles rapidly as she tries to pry him off of her. "Stop it Stu!" She pleads out, almost looking around in embarrassment as he continuous to tickle her neck; he makes sounds that are obvious he's biting it. He eventually stops, repositioning her in his arms and she shrieks. "Stu!" She yells out, hysterically laughing, as he holds her in his hands bridal style, almost studying her with his eyes. He licks his lips before asking "You hungry baby?" and she nods giddily, still laughing. "Then let's go!" He widens his eyes and his mouth forms an 'O' before taking off with her, clearing the crowd of students in front of them with the biggest grin on his face. As they pass the pillar, I look back down at my cassette and fake a few scoffs because I'm having 'such a hard time with it'. When they leave my sight however, I put the cassette away and sigh. Ugh, if I had eaten breakfast this morning, I definitely would've threw up from their grossly not faked chemistry. I hated how much he was always on top of her, so overbearing in an overprotective and caring way. I always noticed whenever they were together anywhere, his eyes would be peeled on her no matter where she was in the room. Granted, I've also noticed that when she isn't around those ocean eyes definitely wandered. But, he always made it aware to any and everyone that Tatum Riley was his, to a point where it translated to he owned her. There was something about his patronizing demeanor that always turned me on. I always got Dom energy from him, especially when he was with Tatum. But, around Billy Loomis, he seemed to surrender. Their friendship dynamic was definitely different, Billy always seemed so serious, uptight almost. I never really saw him breathe, or even rest his shoulders for a moment. Stu on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Every time I saw him there was a smile on his face. He moved around so much, there wasn't a time I could recall him standing still. But nonetheless, they always seemed to make it work. Their whole clique seemed so perfect all the time, and I catch myself yearning to be apart of something similar. Things would've probably turned out way different if I had grew the balls to speak to him after hearing a rumor that him and Casey Becker broke up. But in under a week, he was locked in with her copycat and my Mrs. Matcher dream became history...again. But who knows? Maybe things can change later today. It really all depends on how I prepare for this situation. I begin to contemplate everything I need to do to impress him this afternoon as I continue my venture to the lunch line, resting my headphones on my head and pressing play.

//////////////////(lower volume)

I dump the food on my tray into the trash as I place it on the table nearby, tucking the strands of loose hair behind my ear as I exit the lunchroom, dreading the next 2 hours of this day. I couldn't be more anxious about later, but the day just seems to drag on and on. I tilt my head to the side to scratch the nape of my neck when I see Stu Macher ahead of me. He's staring directly at me, his gaze is cold, and I'm almost scared to keep looking in his direction. But he keeps my attention when he motions his head for me to follow him down the hallway. I almost stop walking completely in disbelief, and I look around to make sure he's talking to me and no one else. When I see no one looking in his direction, I turn back to face him, but he's gone. I furrow my brows as I contemplate even following him. The way todays been going, I wouldn't even be surprised if it was a hallucination. But, I sigh as I force my feet to walk forward, towards his direction. Once I turn the corner where I saw him, he's at the end of the hall waiting for me. When he sees me, he makes another turn and I pick up my pace to catch up with him. I end up in the janitors corridor and as I make the turn, someone quickly grabs my arm and pulls me into a dark room. I gasp but someone grabs my mouth and covers it, closing the door. I feel someones breathe against my right ear and my face burns as I purse my lips together, swallowing. Stus smell washes over me however, and I close my eyes and silently moan, pressing my thighs together as I realize the breathe on my neck and the hand over my mouth belongs to him. He reaches infront of me and switches on the light, and I quickly open my eyes and clear my throat, fixing my loose strands of hair. He removes his hand from my mouth and as I turn around, he's towering over me, his dimples deeply pierce his cheeks as he smirks. His pupils are dilated as he burns holes into me. I can tell he was humored by scaring the crap out of me because he teases me as he says, "Don't be scared, it's just me." I smile quickly and look up at him before silently chuckling and looking away. I can feel him continuing to stare at me but I don't dare meet his gaze. I hear him sigh deeply before he states with a taunting grin, "So, I need to know. I've heard rumors are going around about us, and a little birdy told me it all came from you. Is that true?" He begins to advance me slowly, and I end up backed against the wall, his smile almost begins to vanish; his eyes almost turn a darker shade of blue and his gaze goes cold. "You know I have a girlfriend right?" He asks me sternly, and I stutter and nervously chuckle as I say. "I-I-I wouldn't- I'd never, uh st-start a rumor um, I didn't say anything about u-us talking. I don't even- I don't h-have friends here."My eyes are desperately darting the room to avoid his, but when I'm finally done experiencing word vomit while also feeling completely speechless, I look up and him. He stares at me for a while longer before completely bursting into laughter. He spins around in a circle slowly as he cackles, bending over and clutching his stomach as he finally makes a full 360. He meets my gaze again and I'm left to stand against the wall shrinking in embarrassment. "Holy shit man, I was just fucking with you. Holy shit you should've seen your face! Pure fear."

His face is red from laughing so much, but he stops chuckling to stand over me again. "You know, I don't really listen to what these shitheads have to say about me. It's really just Taum that's worried about that shit. And I'm sure you saw that in the lunch room today huh, stalker?" He smirks as he taunts me with this, and I begin to feel my heart beat out of my chest. Jeez, how many times can one person fuck up in a god damn day? First he catches me staring at him like a creep, then he catches me ease dropping on him and his girlfriend? All in the span of 4 hours too, I'm clearly on a roll today. My thoughts race as I stand there like an asshole just staring at him as he stares at me, waiting for my response. I'm completely speechless and he knows this because he bends down and gets close to my face before he whispers, "Cat got your tongue?" He chuckles at his remark and my cheeks heat up as I look down again. "I-I-"

"Relax, it's not the end of the world kid." He pushes himself off the wall as he teases me, maliciously smiling as he examines the janitors room. "Besides, I think it's kinda hot. I mean, you're the reason I need help in English." He turns to face me as he says this, his dimples still showing as his smile grows. "You never noticed I look at you too?" He asks me, as he begins to walk towards me again, slowly. "Maybe because you're always in your own little world, or maybe because you sit in front of me. But I always see when you're staring at me, because I'm really good at not being seen when I stare at you too." He's close to my face again, and I feel my glasses fog up. I'm breathing heavily as I clutch the side of my pants to hold onto reality. "Are you surprised? I mean, did you really think I asked someone about being "study buddies" and they referred me to you?" His question comes with a sarcastic chuckle, and I'm still standing there, my lips slightly parted before I lick them and push my glasses up. "Um- I-I um..." I swallow as I look down, pursing my lips together as I try to figure out how to say something, anything that'll help him understand that this is everything I've wanted since sophomore year. "You know how pretty you are. I mean, without the glasses, the messy buns, the baggy clothes, I always wondered what you'd look like in a tight skirt, your legs exposed..." He leans into my ear as he says this, smirking, and my breathe picks up again.

"...with a tight short sleeved crop top, exposing your belly." He looks down at my body as he says this before locking eyes with me again. "Your hair down, just bouncing as you walk..." He licks his lips, "along with your breast." He looks down again, "...your nipples poking through your top, almost like now. I can see them through your sweater." He repositions himself in front of me and he levels his head with mine so I'm forced to keep looking at his face, "Do you have any idea how crazy that makes me?" His pupils are dilated as he says this, and his smirk is completely gone. I open my mouth to attempt a response, when he takes a sharp breathe in, pushing himself off the wall again chuckling. "You do now. " He says before smiling again, walking around the room. "You got my note right?" He asks me, snapping his head towards me. There's a seriousness in the question, even though he's still grinning. I make sure to lock eyes with him before nodding quickly. He sighs deeply before facing me again, looking me up and down before slowly advancing me one last time. I hold my breathe as he gets closer, and for a moment, time stops. He gets close to my lips, and he licks his and looks down at mine before saying, "Don't be late then. I... don't like to wait." He quickly scans my body again before winking at me and flashing a quick smile, exiting the janitors closet as he playfully waves at me. I finally breathe as I lean back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as I press my hand to my chest. My hearts beating so hard, I feel it in between my legs, and I press my thighs together tighter. What the fuck...just fucking happened? Did Stu Macher really just confess he's always had a crush on me? Did he basically just tell me, that he's always liked me back? Were we both just afraid this whole time? I never saw him as a guy that held his tongue, he always seemed so out-spoken. I guess things would've turned out different then, if I had gone up to him after him and Casey broke up. I wonder how things will be now that I know about him, and now that he knows about me. So many different thoughts are racing through my head about what could've been and what could be, when the door swings open again. I suck in my breathe, expecting it to be Stu coming back to taunt me more, when I see gray hair. Fuck, the janitor. Luckily, they don't look around the room as they walk in. They head towards the toiletries as they store the Mop and bucket away and as the door closes, I slip through. I speed walk back to the school hallway as my heart continues to race. That would've definitely been detention, that would've ruined everything planned later on. I realize that I'm also now late to my next class which might get me detention as well. So I quickly pick up my pace as I head up the school stairway. I just have to get through 3 more hours of this day, and then I'll have his attention again. 3 more hours and I'll feel his touch again, smell him again. Just 3 more hours, and I'm his. Just 3 more hours…

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zzbibimbap · 3 months

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My Demon - 7/10

The announcement of My Demon literally created chaos among the k-drama fans. The Song Kang-Kim Youjung pairing was making everyone insane. The hype was unreal. But did My Demon live up to it? Well, the answer to that would be… yes or no (kissy if u read that in Na Bora’s voice). My Demon did have a very interesting plot line, good enough characters and it was successful in getting the audiences hooked with the first few episodes. The cinematography was the most talked about among the viewers and rightfully so. The wide shots of Jung Guwon’s (Song Kang) office, the underwater scene, the slow-mo shot of the waves forming a portal around Guwon and Dohee (Kim Youjung), the Dohee-about-to-fall-off-the-balcony scene and so on. Another thing that filled twitter was the fashion. And not only the female lead’s this time, but also the male leads. Guwon has secured his place among the very few male leads with impeccable fashion sense. When most male leads are shown in sophisticated suits, Guwon was rocking cropped jackets and scarfs. But then again, I don’t think most male leads are Song Kang.

Nevertheless, My Demon stands as an example that if you start with a bang, your ending should be a banger. This is where the drama failed. In the second half, it started to feel like the story line was being stretched. The cinematography and direction which was so good in the start had taken a back seat and love making montages were put in for the action that wasn’t happening. And by action, I mean just anything that would contribute to the plot. The plot was moving, but at a very slow pace. Sure, Guwon and Dohee make the best couple, the greenest flag couple, the entire amazon rainforest couple, but where is the drama? I wasn’t necessarily waiting for anything bad to happen, but for a time being literally nothing was happening. And I was mad about that. Until towards to the end, everything happened. The new trend of k-drama rom-coms only having 12 episodes, My Demon should’ve followed that. Because the more they stretched, the more Song Kang’s bad acting showed and also the writer’s inability to stitch it all together. I honestly loved Song Kang in Sweet Home, not that he had any more than 2 expressions 3 dialogues in it, but still. Jung Guwon is far more expressive, and Song Kang couldn’t do justice. He shines when the camera requires for him to be the slayest demon to walk this planet, but when it is time for the playful babygirl Guwon to get on stage, his acting feels like… acting. It’s not terrible, it’s just not the best. Also the entire past life plot is becoming more than obvious. The moment I saw Guwon dreaming of his past, I KNEW Guwon and Dohee probably died in the past life and one of them thinks it’s their fault and they will try to distance themselves from each other. You know which other drama did it? See You in My 19th Life and Destined with You and maybe more but I don’t remember. Like can we please move on? This is equivalent to the 2016 era dramas having the oh we’ve actually met in childhood and not forgotten each other since trope. But then again, they have given us the most iconic dramas, can’t the same about these though.

However, I loved the way they showed Jin Gayoung’s character coming full circle. She is probably the only one who started a certain way, learned her lessons, had character development and got her happy ending. So yeah, My Demon definitely isn’t the best drama for me. I am not going to put in on my re-watch list. But I will recommend it. It’s fun, and sweet, and great for fashion inspo!

Another thing I want to add is that My Demon is compared to Doom at Your Service a lot for having a similar concept, so I’ll just say that DAYS is a much better drama, for all aspects – storyline, acting, romance, comedy, THE FUCKING AWESOME THREESOME OF THE SECOND LEAD THRUPPLE, even the song (If Love Sight by TXT doesn’t play in my head when I look at my future partner, I’ll know they’re not the one). Except My Demon is going to take the trophy for best costume.

Ok that’s it now let me play Hyunsu’s “What should we do?” until Sweet Home S3 comes out hehe!

#kdrama #korean drama #my demon #my demon review #song kang #kim youjung #doom at your service #sweet home #kdrama review #kdrama recommendations #netfli #my january watchlist #my 2024 watchlist

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patchwork-crow-writes · 8 months

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Thoughts on the "Rake Ralsei sprites" in the newsletter: Hey, it's time to weave together an orb of bullshit based on a handful of pixels and fan conjecture, because I'm bored and have no motivation to write currently!

You've seen the sprites, right? The ones with Toriel raking the leaves into a pile, and then the one right underneath that with Ralsei holding the rake with no leaves while Lancer rides on top of a single leaf over and over? Or maybe you saw the version where Susie is dancing on the leaf. Or the one where Kris... is doing Kris things and balances it on their head.

Did you notice that Ralsei's eyes are focused on the leaf? As in, with the Susie and Lancer versions, his eyes are downcast, as they're trampling on the leaf. But then in the Kris version, his gaze is fixed forward, which just so happens to be where the leaf would fall in his line of sight.

Why is that?

Simple: That leaf symbolises Ralsei's purpose.

He has been given a tool - in this instance a rake - and an instruction - put the leaf in its proper place. Unfortunately, his friends are stopping him from getting to the leaf so he can do his job. So what he does instead is stand stock-still, frozen in place, his gaze fixated upon the object of his purpose.

You could argue that the rest of the Fun Gang are, in their own ways, thwarting him from doing his job. Susie and Lancer don't care about purpose or anything like that - and Susie in particular seems hellbent on throwing a wrench in every conceivable grand design that could be going on, so this is very fitting behaviour for her. And whle Kris is not literally stamping on the leaf like the others, they have instead opted to balance it on their head... which you could perhaps interpret as them wanting a purpose of their own, separate from anything Ralsei has planned... alternatively, they may simply not want Ralsei to achieve HIS purpose, for whatever reason.

Now consider that Ralsei could probably quite easily get the leaf. He has a rake, after all, and he could probably get the others to leave it alone, either by asking for them to stop or by waving the rake in their general direction, long enough so that he could scoop it up and call it a day. But he seems perfectly content, if a little bemused, to wait for them to stop of their own accord.

And leaving aside the fact that the fluffy boy probably wouldn't stoop to that in the first place, it says something interesting about him: Regardless of how integral to the fate of the world, or even to his own wellbeing, such a purpose might be, Ralsei WILL NOT hurt or even inconvenience his friends in order to see it done.

Thus the Orb is spun, and the Wheel of Bullshit keeps ever turning...

#rambling #deltarune #Ralsei #fan theory #speculation #theorycrafting #extrapolating plot-critical details from absolutely nothing #“Orb of Bullshit” is now my go-to descriptor for any fan theory that is based on the flimsiest of evidence #regardless of how well-argued it is #That said this IS only 50% a joke

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clavissionary-position · 2 years

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chevalier + roller-coaster headcanons

READ ON ao3

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS PLEASE DNI

He answers your question of "Which one do you want to ride?" with some variation of "I don't care"/"Choose as you like", and then proceeds to spend the entire ride staring at your screaming face because it's by far more interesting than anything he could have ever envisioned. Literally. He has hyperphantasia on top of his eidetic memory and still somehow you surprise him with your facial expressions. It's so ineffable and joyfully frustrating for him that he truly doesn't want to understand how or why it's even possible. Just that it happens is more than enough.

His hair gets adorably tousled during the ride. His bangs flip over onto the other side and you get a glimpse of what Chevalier looks like in the mirror (a sight you've seen plenty of times in-person, but it's always a little mystical and mesmerizing). And then there's the sexy eye-candy that is the sight of him brushing his bangs back in-place with his beautiful hand.

You catch someone talking about you two while you're waiting in line for the ride. It's nothing unpleasant, or even offensive in regards to Chevalier. Through their chatter you learn that while you and Chevalier read your respective books, you apparently stand the exact same way. Same leg crossed over the same ankle, same elbow resting on the same cupped palm, head slightly tilted in the same direction. Chevalier blatantly "screenshots" at a faster pace than you, but he turns the page at the same rate, because as soon as he's done committing the page to memory, he spends the rest of the time "reading" your face and brushing stray leaves from your head.

After you guys are seated and the ride staff double-check the safety gear, Chevalier checks your seat again, giving it a strangely long examination. Consider that it should take him only a fraction of the time of an average person to find any issues. He takes almost thirty seconds, as his eyes scan every bar and bolt and fastener on the mechanism. He comes up with four different design alternatives in that time, mostly to distract himself from the uneasy feeling in his chest. Fortunately the ride starts and finishes without issue, but you're certain there have been few other times when Chevalier has gripped your hand so tightly.

The photos show an expressionless Chevalier, but you remember the way his cerulean eyes held a gentle shine when you turned to look at him right before the first drop ripped a blood-curdling cry from your throat. If Chevalier had started the ride holding onto your hand (with some cutesy, teasing Chevalier-pretense about anticipating your anxiety), it most definitely ended with you choking the life out of his palm.

You guys have matching backpacks. They're fairly conservative in appearance, but sturdy and built-to-last. He has a rabbit key-chain on his, and you have a white tiger on yours. When you retrieve your backpacks after the ride, you discover your key-chain is cracked. Chevalier seemingly dismisses the whole thing, but you still find yourself going home with a massive, massive, gigantic, colossal, behemoth stuffed white tiger that Chevalier just happens to win you at a ring-toss booth a little later. Clavis is less-than-enthused when he is tasked with transporting it safely.

There's still time for one more ride before the park closes. Neither of you exchange direct words about it, but you two somehow end up in the vicinity of the same roller-coaster again, and it's entirely by Chevalier's design. When you ask him if he enjoyed the ride, he answers simply that he enjoyed the view. He gives you a small smile and it's the most dazzling sight in the entire park.

img src 1 2 INSPO: the recent sanrio x light and night collab story the LEGENDARY STRAIGHTFACED ROLLERCOASTER GUY Chev's night routine story that someone was kind enough to share

#ikepri chevalier #ikepri chevalier x reader #ikepri headcanons #atelier writes ikeseries #ikepri #ikemen prince #p o s t . original #h c . ikepri

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parcequecestnotreprojeeeet · 3 months

Note

Sometimes something happens that you didn't expect. That's what this story is about. Your Sweet 🍓

Fever

She hadn't heard from him for almost two days and she was really worried by now. After he had called her late in the evening two days ago from his parents' house to tell her that he had arrived home safely, she had been looking forward to seeing him again the next day. But he hadn't turned up and hadn't contacted her either.

She had wanted to pick up the phone countless times and call his parents, but she didn't have the courage. During the last and only conversation she had had with his parents, angry words had been spoken and she had tearfully explained to them that she couldn't stay away from him. Since then, there had been silence between them, but she knew that his parents were still trying to keep him away from her.

If he came to her from them, she immediately sensed when there had been another argument. He didn't tell her much, but she could form a picture from what he did tell her. It was also telling how rarely he came home. They usually met at his place and when he was home, he spent more time with her than with his family.

While on the first day she was still worried that something had happened to him, on the second day her thoughts went in a different direction. Perhaps his parents had convinced him to stop seeing her. The more time passed, the more doubts crept into her thoughts.

When the phone rang in the afternoon, she literally flinched and fear crept up inside her. It rang a few times before she picked up the receiver. When she recognised his mother's voice, her hand tightened and she pressed the receiver as close to her ear as possible. After confirming in a hoarse voice that she was on the line, she heard: "Madame, I would like to ask you to come to our home."

Her brain tried to process this request and failed. She couldn't get a word out, even though she had a thousand questions. She swallowed and tried to form words as his mother continued: "My son is very ill. He has a high temperature. He keeps calling your name desperately."

These words released the rigidity in which she was trapped. "I'll be right over," she finally managed to say and heard his mother thank him quietly from afar. She hung up and as quickly as she could, she got dressed and made her way to him.

Her thoughts were racing. At first she was relieved because her fears that he no longer wanted to be with her had vanished into thin air. But then another fear took over. What was wrong with him? How bad stand it for him when even his mother called her and asked her to come to him? How would she find him? This fear was much worse.

Although the journey to his house was not far, it seemed endless and when she finally stood at the front door of his parents' house, her whole body trembled. But that wasn't about the meeting with his parents. During the phone call with his mum, she had been frozen, but that was different now. Without hesitation, she rang the doorbell and when his mum opened it a moment later, she felt grateful. She was so glad that his mum had called her.

She nodded to her, asked her to come in and follow her. She wasn't aware of anything around her, she was too desperate to finally see him. His mother quietly opened the door to his room and gestured for her to go ahead. The sight of him tore her heart apart. He was lying in his bed with his eyes closed, his forehead shining and his head moving restlessly back and forth. His soft groans sounded terrible. The always so healthy young man she knew was pale.

She heard his mother say something, but she couldn't make it out. She walked purposefully further into the room and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. She bent over him and gently placed her hand on his cheek. "I'm here," she said in a hoarse voice and felt his skin glow. "I'm with you," she assured him and his head finally stopped moving. Her other hand was now also on his cheek and his eyes opened with difficulty.

He fixed his gaze on her and softly breathed her name. She nodded and felt a tear run down her cheek. "I'm so sorry," he struggled to say, but she put a finger over his mouth to stop him from speaking. "Nothing to be sorry for. It's just important that I'm with you now and that you get better." His glassy eyes flashed for a moment before closing again. "Don't go away," he managed with difficulty. "I won't leave," she swore, "I won't leave you alone."

It took another two days for the fever to finally break. She couldn't stay with him all the time, but as often as she could, she sat by his bed, cooled his forehead, gave him something to drink or simply stroked him so that he could feel her closeness. He slept almost all the time and yet she had the feeling that he knew exactly when she was with him. When she came, he seemed to relax and a restful calm followed. A few more times he called her name and she heard the fear that resonated in his voice. Then she spoke softly to him and almost immediately he calmed down again.

His parents had tacitly accepted her returning to his bed again and again. When she visited him on the third day, she found him awake for the first time. He was still weak, but as soon as she was by his side, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "I'm sorry I didn't come to our appointment," he said in a raspy voice. She carefully freed herself from his embrace and looked at him with a smile. "I imagined the most horrible things," she said softly and he sighed.

"But I got the biggest shock when I saw you lying so ill in this bed," she added, stroking his cheek as she had done on her first visit. " My mum has asked you to come," he said thoughtfully and she nodded. "You were in a very bad way and you kept calling my name." He frowned. "I don't remember that," he admitted. His hand stroked her arm tenderly as her hand continued to caress his cheek. "But I know you were here," he added.

"I came as often as I could," she explained. "Thank you," he whispered. "I love you." She looked at him tenderly. "I love you too. Very much," she replied and gently laid her head on his chest. She felt his hand stroking her hair. She relaxed and closed her eyes for a moment. She knew that the crisis was over and that he would get better. Everything was fine.

Thank you very much! ❤️

#fanfic #strawberry

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midgardianminx · 11 months

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Art Walk

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x reader (reader’s gender not explicitly stated/no use of pronouns).

Summary: A Dieter Bravo (artist AU?) meet cute. Is that what this is?

Rating: M (18+) - while this fic is not explicit, this blog is. Minors be gone.

Notes: Hi. I was really down about my unused theatre degree when I wrote this, and needed a little Dieter comfort. This is self-indulgent and all mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Cross-posted on AO3

It had been years since you’d ventured out to an art walk. Not because you didn’t love them, but because you felt like a fraud at this point. You’d graduated with your art degree nearly a decade ago and had nothing to show for it. You had been sucked into the “stability” of corporate America (what a joke that was) and have slowly been having your happiness and creativity drained since.

You’d stumbled on it accidentally. You were going to grab takeout from your favorite hole in the wall downtown. Parking seemed to be harder than usual and the streets were more busy. As you approached your destination you noticed the packed alleyway. Vender tables lined the street and people were milling about in every direction looking at the different trinkets and knick-knacks. Drawn like a moth to a flame, you began to wander down the alleyway, completely abandoning your initial mission for food.

It felt like a fever dream. Everywhere you looked you saw artists pouring their soul into their work. Chalk art decorated the street. A graffiti artist was bringing a crumbling wall back to life. You ventured into a small studio space filled with art on the gallery walls. People gathered in a crowd to take in the performance art happening before your eyes.

As the crowd dispersed, you finally felt like you could catch your breath and something inside you came to life.

- - -

He took notice of you immediately. He was pulling out the uneven cut of burlap that would act as his canvas when he first spotted you. You were impossible to ignore. You took in your surroundings as if your life depended on it; as if everything would disappear if you blinked. And although your stare seemed distant and almost unfocused, he could see something come to life the longer you looked around. You disappeared into a small art gallery, but even with you out of sight, he couldn’t forget that look in your eye.

- - -

You left the small gallery and found yourself back in the alley. The streetlights had turned on in the time you had been inside and your body felt a steady buzz of excitement. The sound of a band caught your attention and you wandered in that direction hoping to find the source and taking the opportunity to take in more of the art booths along your path.

You didn’t reach your destination, never finding the source of the music. Instead you were stopped in your tracks by the sight in front of you. His curls were a mess on top of his head. His shirt and pants hung loose and comfortably on his frame. You didn’t even question the Crocs because they seemed so right for him.

Your feet were taking you to his space before your brain could even catch up. It was as if there was an invisible string attached to your core and you were helpless to fight against the pull. You finally managed to take your eyes off the artist and caught sight of the wrinkled canvas he was working on.

It took your breath away. You stood in awe as you took in the piece of art that wasn’t even completed but was already perfect in your eyes.

It was the alley, but not in a literal sense. You couldn’t explain it, but it was as if the artist had climbed inside your mind and witnessed what you saw felt when you first stumbled upon this place. You imagined that to others it may just appear to be a collection of shadows accompanied by bright colors. Abstract. Others would see it as abstract, but for you it was clear as day. It was this alleyway on this night.

You were so transfixed by the piece that you hadn’t even noticed the artist had stopped painting and was now focused on you. After a few moments he cleared his throat which snapped you out of your trance. Heat began to creep up your neck to your face, and you didn’t know if it was because you had been caught staring at his work or because now that you could see him fully you were taken aback by his beauty. That’s the only way you could explain it. Beauty. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but beauty nonetheless. His curls were tousled and loose, as if his fingers had been raking through them. His face was warm; decorated with scruffy facial hair and laugh lines that hinted at a life well lived. You noticed the sun glasses propped on his head and thanked your lucky stars that they resided there so that you could fully appreciate his eyes. They were soft and kind and had a spark of mischief behind them. If you thought his art was beautiful, you now realized that it didn’t hold a candle to the beauty of the artist himself.

He was smirking at you now. Fuck. There was no denying that you had just spent the last several seconds gawking at this complete stranger. And although embarrassment began to flood your system, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

“Hey” he said. One word. He said one word to you and you held onto it for dear life. Trying to play it cool, but failing miserably, you managed to mumble a “hey” back.

“You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you rushed out on a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for staring, it just really spoke to me.”

“Never apologize for appreciating art, or beauty. I won’t.” His eyes were locked on you as he said this and you couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by that. You broke eye contact when you could feel the heat returning to your cheeks.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you here.” He said lazily, bringing your attention right back to him. He was cleaning a paintbrush on his shirt, which was already patterned with splotches of paint and other stains.

“Yeah it is. Just kind of stumbled upon it by accident.”

“Well you fit here.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped you. That feeling of being a fraud slowly returning.

“You don’t believe me.” He stated plainly, it wasn’t a question.

“Sorry, it’s just I haven’t been in the art scene for years, so it’s hard to believe I fit.”

“You can doubt yourself all you’d like, but I’m right. It may take some time for you to believe it, but I like a challenge.”

Another nervous laugh escaped you. “That’s all well and good, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Hmm. No, I don’t suppose you don’t Moonbeam.”

The nickname knocked the wind out of you. You had only just met this man and yet you felt the trajectory of your life had now been changed.

“Dieter Bravo”

“Huh?” You asked, having forgotten the current direction of your conversation, too hyper-focused on the nickname he had bestowed on you.

“My name. Dieter Bravo. Now you know it.”

“Dieter Bravo'' you repeated, testing out the name for yourself. The smirk returned to his face, and his warm eyes darkened. Fuck. He loved the sound of his name falling from your lips. He wanted to hear all the ways you could utter his name.

“Di” you said, cutting in on his thoughts and trying the nickname on for size. At the sound of the nickname it was now Dieter’s turn to be breathless, totally caught off guard by the way it made him feel. He recovered quickly.

“Yeah Moonbeam. You can call me Di.” He winked and said with that signature smirk you’ve so quickly grown accustomed to seeing him wear. Yeah, you were in trouble, there was no doubt about that. And although you had no way of knowing it, Dieter was feeling the same way. You may have stumbled upon the art walk accidentally, but he didn’t believe in accidents or coincidences. The universe brought you to him, there was no doubt about that in his mind. You were meant to come into his life and he just knew that going back to a time before you wouldn’t be possible, not that he’d ever want to. He too knew he was in trouble, but knew it was going to be the best kind of trouble he could experience.

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x y/n #dieter bravo artist #dieter bravo meet cute #pedro pascal characters

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thruheavenandhighwater · 2 years

Text

Dancing In The Moonlight

Pairing: Eddie Munson/ Reader

Requested By: N/A

Word Count: 2,008

Summary: Eddie helps you to get a song out of your head after it's been stuck there for day. Just fluffy domestic bliss with everyone's favorite lil weirdo.

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

~~~~~

"...fine and natural sight."

The song had been stuck in your head for days. Literally, days. It was three days ago when you heard it on the radio for the first time in forever and you'd been humming and singing it to yourself ever since.

"When you're dancing in the moonlight."

It was an old song. One your older cousins used to love, long before you ever cared about music. You had not idea how it ended up in the rotation for a local Indiana radio station in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. But man was it catchy.

Honestly, you didn't even know who sang it. It had occurred to you to ask Eddie, since he'd been working at the record shop for a few years now. But you doubted it would be the kind of thing he'd know about. It wasn't exactly his cup of tea. So instead, you contented yourself to randomly sing the few lines that you knew.

"Dancing in the moonlight, everyone was feeling warm and bright."

Your coworkers had grown tired of the song quickly. Like, almost too quickly. Dierdre had thrown you more than a few eye rolls across the room when you'd start humming to yourself, your hips moving instinctively as you cleared a table or handed off orders to the cooks in the back.

"Y/N, my dad likes that song." She had sighed as the two of you closed together on night three of your marathon. "Can't you get something normal stuck in your head? Madonna, maybe? Even that headbanger shit your boyfriend listens to."

You laughed along with her, teasingly tossing a rag in her direction. "I can't help it!" You whined as she bent down to retrieve the thrown rag. "It's in there. Like, seriously in there."

"Well, figure it out because if you come in here singing it again tomorrow I'm gonna clamp your lips closed with Bill's tongs." She said flatly, nodding in the direction of the kitchen, a smile on her red lips.

You left your car radio on the same station for days, just in case it randomly played again. You just wanted to be able to sing along to it and get it out of your system. Purge the song from your mind, so to speak.

But it never happened. Three days of driving 20 minutes to and from work. It started to feel like you'd never be able to rid your thoughts of the melody. Even you were starting to get annoyed with yourself. Well, maybe not annoyed with yourself, moreso annoyed with the radio station that played it one time and then never again.

When you parked in front of your house on night three and the song still hadn't magically appeared on the radio, you felt defeated. You wrapped the hands around the top curve of your steering wheel, resting your forehead on the back of your hands for a few moments before you were able to walk inside.

Eddie was on the couch watching TV. His legs were spread across the floor, his arm draped over the back of the spot where you normally sat with him.

"Welcome home," he smiled at you.

You kicked your shoes off next to the door with a sigh. You didn't even bother to take off the thin jacket that you wore, instead digging your hands deep into the pockets as you made your way to the couch.

"How was work?" Eddie asked, placing a chaste kiss to your temple when you fell into the worn couch beside him.

"Fine," you answered. "Made some decent tips." You pulled a wad of ones and fives from your jeans pocket.

"Why you all huffy then?"

You put your hand, and the cash, back into your pocket and snuggled deeper into him. "Not huffy."

"They said with a huff," Eddie teased. His hand fell from the back of the couch to rest over your shoulders. "Long as you're not, like, dying or something you can be huffy if you want. I don't care. I'm just gonna close my eyes and…"

"It's this damn song!" You finally said, a little louder than you had meant to.

"What song?"

You sighed again. "I don't even know. It was on the radio on Tuesday and it's stuck in my head." You crossed one arm over his stomach, his hand that had been resting on the arm of the couch moving to cover it. "Dierdre threatened to tong my lips closed if I don't get it out of my system." You finished with a small giggle as he started to rub his finger tips lightly over your arm.

"Okay, but what song?" He asked again.

"You probably don't know it."

He chuckled, his chest rising quickly beneath you. "Babe, I make and sell music. All day." His large hand shook your shoulder gently. "I'm probably your best bet here."

"But it's an old song. And it's not really your kinda thing."

"I think you'd be surprised to find out I have lots of things you don't know about." He said. "Just try me. If you can stump me, movies and pizza are on me tomorrow night."

"Fine, fine," you laughed, rolling your eyes. "I think it's called Dancing In The Moonlight."

"Springsteen?"

"No!" You said triumphantly, pulling away from him. "That's Dancing In The Dark! I know that song."

"Everyone knows that song." He rolled his eyes, playful smile on his lips.

"So you're buying tomorrow?"

"Not yet, sweetheart." He told you, his hand raising with his pointer finger extended. "That was only my first guess. Everyone knows I get three."

"Okay," you relented. You pulled your arms away from him, crossing them over your chest as you sat back on your calves. "What's your next guess?"

"Okay, well, first of all," he started, crossing his own arms mockingly. A laugh tumbled from your lips at his stance. No matter how many times he'd jokingly tease you, it always made you laugh. "I need more information before I can make a second guess. How's it go?"

"I don't know " you shrugged.

"You don't know?" His face fell to a flat, unamused guise. "It's been stuck in your head for two days and you don't know how it goes?"

"Three days."

"Oh!" He called out. "Three days!" His hands flew from his chest, landing on the couch beside him. His half bow causing his long curls to fall in front of his face. "My most sincere apologies, madame. Three days."

You nodded to him before quickly turning away. He used his outstretched hands on the couch to push himself forward, his lips crashing with your cheek quickly before he was up and moving across the room. He stopped in front of his stereo, crouching to where his tapes and records were organized in alphabetical order beneath the turntable.

"So, how's the damn song go?" He asked again, turning to face you.

"You're the singer here, Munson, not me." You felt a wave of insecurity come over you at the idea of singing in front of him without the radio to cover your voice.

"I play guitar, Y/N." He said flatly. "Just… Just say the words. I'll get it." You took a deep breath, trying to put the words in the right order before starting.

"Everybody's feelin' warm and bright. It's a fine and natural sight. Everybody dancing in the moonlight."

"Is it kinda," he started, stopping for a moment while he racked his brain. "Da nana nana na." He sang the melody, his pitch higher than normal to match that of the song.

"Yes!" You cried excitedly.

He turned back to his collection of music and started flipping through the vinyls. There's no way he's going to have it, you thought to yourself. No way.

Within a few moments he was pulling a cardboard sleeve free from the row that was so nicely lined up in front of him. He stood and spun on his heels to face you. "This?" He asked, extending the album to you.

The black and white photo on the front of the album was not what you were expecting from the music collection of Eddie Munson. Six men stood in a line, the words King Harvest in red in the top corner. Your eyes scanned the cover, reading the words that ran across the bottom. "Dancing In The Moonlight - Lady, Come On Home" also in red.

"Maybe?" You weren't sure as you handed the album back to him. He took it from you, turning back to the turntable as he pulled the black vinyl disc from its protective sleeve. He laid the sleeve to the side before setting the record on the turntable. He turned the stereo on and gently set the needle onto the record once it began to spin. There was a few seconds of scratching and static before the piano started.

"Eddie!" You squealed as you stood from the couch. "This is it! Oh my god, I love you." You threw your arms around his neck, burying your face into his skin as he wrapped you in a tight hug.

"I'm amazing," he shrugged.

You broke the hug, pulling away from Eddie and taking a few steps backwards as the lyrics started to play from the old speakers.

"We get it on most every night, and when that moon is so big and bright-"

You threw your head back with a laugh. It felt so good to finally be singing along with the song rather than quietly to yourself. You heard Eddie giggle from where he stood. You peeked your eyes open to find him still in the same spot. One arm was crossed over his chest, the other tangling itself in his hair while he watched you.

"It's a supernatural delight. Everybody was dancing in the moonlight."

You sang along, dancing over to where he stood and taking both his hands in yours. Without hesitation he started to dance with you. The two of you moved around the living room furniture, your bodies moving in time with the music as you followed each other through the house.

His hands found your hips, his eyebrows wagging as he sang to you.

"We like our fun and we never fight." He sang in your ear as he spun you around, bringing your back tight to his chest. You shimmied your shoulders against him, your knees bending a bit with each syllable. "You can't dance and stay uptight." You sang, a dramatic twang in your voice as you imitated that of the man singing.

You turned quickly and sprang back up to stand in front of him. His smile was wide as he watched you, quietly singing along. He threw his head back, his voice getting loud as he belted out the chorus, his shoulders moving to the best.

As the song ended, the chorus repeating itself as it faded into silence, you draped your arms over Eddie's shoulders. His hands found your hips once more. He leaned down, his fingertips pressing into you as his lips met yours. You raked your fingers through his dark hair as he smiled into the kiss.

The next song on the album began to play but neither of you were interested in listening to it. He broke away from your embrace to lift the needle from the vinyl, a sharp scratch echoing through the room as he did. He flipped the turntable off and slipped the disc into its protective sleeve before replacing it back in its proper spot below.

He walked back to you, both your hands finding the same spots on each other's bodies. "You always find new ways to amaze me, Edward Munson." You said quietly.

He groaned and rolled his eyes. He always said that he hated when you'd use his 'government name' but you knew he secretly loved it. He shrugged his shoulders beneath your arms.

"Told ya I'm amazing."

"Can't deny that." You agreed. He really, really was.

~~~~~

This was soooooo fun to write omfg Just... Eddie? Domestic bliss? Dancing around the house????? It's literally all I want in life.

As always, feedback is always greatly appreciated!! If you'd like to be tagged in future 5SOS or Stranger Things fics, let me know!! Have a good weekend!!

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #my words #hope y'all like this

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syubits · 1 year

Text

vena amoris

literally, "vein of love" witch!jungkook ∞ reader

“So. Are you going as a zombie to the party?”

The spoon from your mouth drops, clinks to the hardwood floor, but thankfully your grip on the cup of ice cream is stronger as you flinch at the sudden voice coming from next to you.

“Jesus.”

“No, it’s Jungkook,” the boy replies, bunny teeth digging into his bottom lip in an attempt to stop the chuckle spilling out at his own joke – which came out as a snort anyway. He’s been hanging around Jin too much.

“I told you not to do that teleportation thingamjig. What if I was changing? Also… the others could be around.” At that, Jungkook goes still for second, eyes widening at the realisation. It wasn’t a surprise he had mastered yet another ability again, and according to him he was one of the few witches in his level to be able to execute the spell, but as much as you shared his joy, you needed to remind him not to get overexcited for his own sake. After all, you were the only one who knew his secret after walking in on him eating cereal with a levitating spoon while both hands were occupied with the Switch in his hands as he tried to catch Gigantamax. It was rather comical seeing him freezing mid-crunch on cornflakes, the spoon forgotten but still floating next to his mouth. To his surprise (and relief), you weren’t all over him with questions, and you pretended as if nothing happened at all. But to cut short the story, Jungkook was simply a transfer student from a very distant and secluded community – which explains how he is not very familair to social norms. The community being the witch and wizardry world, except no one knows that. Except you.

You still remember his panicked look when his secret was discovered, as if he wasn’t the one who could perform spells like erasing your memory or casting you into a dark universe or something along those lines. You wonder if those were possible, but you remember you’re curious about something else now.

“Jungkook. What party?”

“The umm… Taehyung mentioned something about it.” He plops onto your bed, looking a little too big for the single, pink bed.

“Jungkook, Taehyung goes to like… every party. Everyone asks him and he asks everyone along.” Which was how you met Jungkook in the first place. Taehyung had asked (dragged) him along to Jisoo’s birthday party, and you wanted to wince imagining how awkward it must’ve been for the poor junior. Even though you were quite acquainted with all the 2nd years there, it was easy to feel out of place in that huge apartment. Taehyung got whisked away by a bunch of seniors promptly after introducing him to you, and it was only after 10 minutes of Awkward Fruit Punch Silence when you caught sight a Tsukishima keychain dangling with his keys that a conversation started. You could still vividly recall the way his eyes widened in excitement when you pointed it out.

Jungkook juts out his lower lip. “Oh. You’re right. Ah! The one with Satan?”

You twist in your chair to face him, eyebrows shooting up. “The WHAT?”

“The big and red man… with the white beard.”

“…You mean Santa?”

“Ah, yes! Santa!” Jungkook quickly points in your direction, as if catching onto the word and pinning it to his memory.

“Ah – Hobi’s Christmas party! Right!I already told them I can’t make it because I have this final assignment due –”you trail off, looking up. “Wait. What do you mean, if I’m ‘going as a zombie’?”

“I thought people dressed up for the year-end parties… and you –”

“That’s Halloween.. which was back in October… and I’m not going today so I’m not dressed as anything,” you purse your lips and give him a pointed look. “Are you saying I look like a zombie right now?”

“Ehm…” Jungkook eyes widen slightly as the awareness of what he’d just implied sets in. “No,” is all he says, scratching his jaw and suddenly he is very interested in your floor tiles. You huff, trudging past him with your cup of ice cream and throwing yourself backwards on the couch in your small living room with a loud smoosh. Jungkook was probably right. Your eyebags were probably heavier than the entirety of cushions on the couch, and you couldn’t even remember the last meal you had that wasn’t ice cream or those dry, square biscuits. At least you were 98% done with the assignment.

“_________.”

Not bothering to turn your head, you let your eyes flicker to where he was standing in the doorway of your room. He grimaced, and you fought the urge to groan. You’re not trying to give him a death stare, but you could admit that with the way you look right now anyone would think you need to be exorcised.

“I want to show you something.”

You waited, silence urging him to go on. Another magic spell? Or a new ability he picked up? Maybe he can magically finish your essay.

“I mean, some place.”

At this, you loll your head to one side almost lifelessly and shut your eyes. “Now? Jungkooook. You know I can’t go out,” you whined.

“I know, I know, but you don’t really have to go out. I can bring you there,” he says earnestly. You don’t have to look at him to know that he’s probably leaning forward, anticipating and all doe-eyed like he always does whenever he’s asking for something. It works well with Jimin, Hoseok too but not as effective with you. As long as you keep your eyes closed, that is.

“How do you ‘bring me there’, without me going out?” you knit your brows together. You want to be confused, but you’re too tired to.

“Same way as when I came here?” he replies, nonchalantly.

You lift your head up and look at him from your sprawled position on the couch. “You’re kidding me.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I’m serious.”

“And you’ve tried this before…?”

“I’m sure it will work,” is all he answers.

You give him a pained look.

“No, I’m sure sure.” He’s seen how other witches did it before. The upperclassmen lurking and snacking in the corridors in groups winking out of existence the moment a councillor walks down the hallway – it’s said in the books he’d found too – as long as the caster’s hands were snug around the other person’s wrist, thumb touching the cord of vein found, you could easily transport another person other than yourself. In the older literature, the term vena amoris –vein of love – appeared often, since it was said that the vein would lead directly to the heart, (read: soul) of the person. The term actually appeared a lot and it wasn’t so suprising because many spells, from trivial to dangerous would involve this.

Silence. A weight settled itself on the tiny bit of space left on the couch before you hear Jungkook’s voice flitter to you, soft and small, like a faint tinkle. “Please? Trust me.”

You felt your jaw tick at that. Of course you trusted him. But…

“Pleaseee.”

A quiet sigh and you sat up. “Fine.”

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, and it’s bright and merry and might as well rival the ornaments at Hoseok’s party. And Hoseok has a lot of them.

He extended his hand towards you, latching onto your wrist and thumb gently brushing the inner side. “Stand up for a bit,” he makes to tug on your hand, and you acquiesce.

His other arms wraps around you, pulling you close. You don’t question anything but Jungkook can tell you’re tense by the way you stiffen slightly. “Trust me,” his voice is soft when he says it again. You nod, a little too sharply and you feel the hand on your wrist brush the circumference of it again. Jungkook is unsure if the staccatoed beats came from your pulse or his as he attunes his energy with yours for the spell. Either way, he never noticed the faint fragrance of strawberry mint in your hair that tickles his nose pleasantly when you lean in closer.

You don’t see much more than feel the process – there wasn’t a sudden whoosh or any falling sensation – just a brief shift of surroundings as if a jigsaw puzzle was taken apart briefly before other pieces are slotted in to make up a brand new picture. A slight movement from both your feet creates a delicious crunch of dead leaves under your heel and you slowly turn, trying to figure out your surroundings. It’s dark, but all it takes is a lift of his fingers and fairy lights come to life, almost winking at you as they prettily line the roof of a lone gazebo sitting at the end of a short bridge. Even the reflection of the gazebo glitters picturesquely on the surface of the pond.

“Whoa,” the word escapes in whisper, as if you’re scared any kind of volume would shatter the spell.

“Wanna go sit?” Jungkook asks, earning a nod from you.

“How did you find this place? Wait, is that the city behind the trees?” You see the peak of tall buildings, the familiar red LOTTE sign in the distance.

“Yup,” he answers, popping the ‘p’ in the word. “I was making deliveries the other day to some building and took the wrong turn. It’s in some kind of park but not many of them come here too often so I thought I’d show you.”

“You got lost? Can’t you just teleport yourself or magically drive your bike…?” You notice Jungkook lightly brushing off the bench before you sat, but he stops halfway to give you a look. He means it to be a disapproving frown, but it turns out to be a cute pout.

“But it’s more fun without magic. I get to see many things and people,” he explains offhandedly, before taking a seat next to you. He rests his back on the railing, stretching his legs out in front of him while you lean back on your palms to look out at the water. Your fingers touch softly, and Jungkook resists the urge to curl his fingers around your hand. “Although I did use it for the fairy lights,” he bares his bottom teeth in a squarish sort-of smile.

“Really? Wow, talent,” you say, lolling your head lazily towards him and side eyeing him from under your lashes. “Next thing you know you’ll come up with some charm spell or whatever.”

Jungkook raises his brows in surprise. “Actually, I am working on it,” he says, turning to you and tilting his head to one side.

You regard him carefully, eyes narrowing into slits and bursting out into laughter when he waggles his brows. “Is it working?”

Your peals of laughter bubble down with a sigh, coloured with content, tainted with exhaustion from the past few days’ worth of working. Nevertheless, your lips are upturned prettily and Jungkook lets a small smile settle on his lips. “Pretty sure our Jungkookie doesn’t really need to come up with a spell to charm people,” you reply. His eyebrows shoot up and disappear under his chestnut brown bangs, giving you a exaggeratingly shocked expression.

“A compliment from you? I’m honored,” he bends in a small bow, a hand on his heart. He ignores the tha-thumps he feel under the sweatshirt that are skipping faster than normal and he curses himself for the fairy light stunt. Maybe he’d just say it was cold if you noticed and asked why his ears were pink under the lights.

“Oh. Why do you have to put your hand on my wrist for the spell? That was such a specific location.”

“It helps with the process. I read it in a book. Give me your hand.”

Without questioning it, you offer him your other hand.

“See here,” he traces your down your fourth finger, in a straight line downwards and stops at your wrist. “It’s called vena amoris – the vein of love. It’s believed to run directly to your heart, so some spells especially binding ones mention it.” He continues to trail his finger down, sweeping about halfway down your arm before he pulls away.

“Oh,” you say. “I learned something new. Is that why most of us wear rings on our fourth finger on our left hand?”

Jungkook makes a clicking sound, pointing finger guns at you. “Bingo.”

“And mind-reading?”

“That’s…kinda… Eh. It’s fairly more complicated.”

“But! You know those carnivals where they take your hand and do fortune telling or mind reading.”

“Nah. They’re fakes.” He wrinkles his nose, as if taking offence for their existence.

“Well. I guess we’ll have to stick with the old penny for your thoughts method. Penny for your thoughts?”

“What does that mean?” Jungkook raises his brows, eyes wide.

“Like… usually people say that when they see people zoning out or something to ask what they’re thinking of.”

“Yo-“ You. “You-ghurt. I mean… yoghurt.”

“That’s… random. What flavour? I might have some in the fridge back home…”

“Strawberry.” The scent of your shampoo.

“Pretty sure there’s still a few left. You can have them when we get back.”

He makes a small hum of acknowledgement, the sound soft like his eyes as they gaze out to pond.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

Another soft hum. “Do you feel better?”

You almost ask what he means, you weren’t feeling particularly down – but you do feel much better now that you think about it. Jungkook instantly smiles when you nod, looking very accomplished as if he just figured out how to cast another spell. Speaking of...

“Whoa,” he hears you gasp. The flowers nearby start to illuminate, pretty hues of pink, blue and maroon that look like faeries above the water. “That’s... enchanting.”

The dark haired witch scoffs, almost says not enchanting as you, but manages to stop himself just before you shove at his shoulder. To you he might just sound like he was showing off, but if you asked he would gladly show you the world if he could.

Jungkook sighs. You weren’t a witch, but how is it that you’ve charmed him so much? He should really head to the library and see if he can find some answers. Maybe half-witches existed.

“You still up for Hobi’s party?” you ask. You’re not sure what time it is but knowing Hobi, he always has an After Party. And knowing the other boys, you could arrive at 3am and it would be like the party has just started.

Jungkook shrugs. “Only if you are.” The silence stretches as you contemplate on your choice. Hm. Surely a little fun wouldn’t hurt.

“We can go maybe a little later. But let’s stay a bit longer, together?”

Jungkook nods and smiles. He liked that word.

“Okay. Together.”

#bts scenario #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #writing #merry christmas yall.#AND HAPPY NEW YEAR

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