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dollfacefantasy · 8 months

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Can't Help It

pairing: dbf!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your dad's coworker needs a housesitter, but the house isn't the only thing you'll be sitting on (haha pls laugh)

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, oral (m receiving), age gap (i imagine early 20s/late 30s), both reader and leon are kinda pervy but not in a skeevy way <3

word count: 5.3k

a/n: hi hi i am back! this was such a pain to write for no reason, but as always, i hope people enjoy. i'm not sure what trope this really falls under, it's probably more accurate to say dcw (dad's coworker), but we'll go with dbf for convenience. i might make a part 2 of this idk. also, i know the header images are really giving graphic design is my passion but... it is what is lol. as before, thank you for all the support on my last fics. if you reblogged or commented, i'm giving you a smooch rn. and just wanna say that i do take requests. if anyone is interested, don't be shy ;) any who, feedback, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

When your dad’s new coworker asked if you’d be interested in housesitting for some easy money, you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Agent Kennedy, like your father, traveled for work a lot. Often gone for weeks at a time, he needed someone to watch the place and take care of menial tasks like getting the mail and watering the plants. It paid well and all you had to do was basically live in his house.

You had met him several times in passing before he offered you this job, and he was always nice to you. He would say hi when you’d come down for a snack while he talked to your dad in the living room. He’d ask how college was and about the different classes you were taking. One time he even told you about some old band he liked that he thought you would too. And that was all great.

But what was even better was that he was fine as fuck.

You had a fat crush on him from the moment you were introduced. The way his eyes pierced right through you but in the softest way. How his lips curled into a knowing smile while his hand gripped yours in a firm shake. The way he said “pretty name for a pretty girl” when you told him your name. From any other middle-aged man, that would have been so corny and had you internally shriveling up. But from him… you had to fight the urge to get on your knees then and there.

He’d approached you about watching his house, saying something about how there had been some nearby break-ins in empty houses and it would be a good way for you to get some spending money and blah blah blah. You were on board as soon as the opportunity to have more of him in your life presented itself.

Unfortunately, it was the nature of housesitting that you rarely saw your employer. You would see him when you showed up and when he came home and that was it. But those moments were enough to sustain your delusion.

The first time you came over, you walked into the house, glancing around the den of the man who enraptured you. It was pretty basic, but you figured that not being home a lot would be the reason for that. When you were done trying to psychoanalyze him from looking around his house, he gave you your own set of keys with a wink that had you blushing an embarrassing amount.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said softly.

“Call me Leon, Sweetheart,” he replied.

You had to look away to conceal your giddy smile. You didn’t think he noticed the effect he had on you. Or if he did, he didn’t care about your pitiful infatuation. But other times, you could have sworn he did this kind of thing on purpose.

Your first stint in the house went smoothly. You made sure to do everything he asked and even cleaned up the place a little bit. When he returned from wherever his work had taken him that time, he seemed impressed to your delight. He looked around, making small talk with you before writing your check.

“You get up to anything crazy while I was gone?” he said, smirking as he scribbled his signature on the small rectangle.

“Yeah, I was real wild - I brought out your vacuum for probably the first time.”

He laughed, handed you the check, and teasingly purred “good girl.”

Now, he may have been joking, but your panties nearly soaked through with arousal regardless. You yet again hid your revealing expression as you said a timid goodbye and headed out to your car. You were shifting your thighs together the whole ride home, fantasizing about being a good girl for Agent Kennedy so he would relieve that ache between your legs that clouded your thoughts.

Honestly, all of this made you feel pretty pathetic. Lusting after your father’s coworker, now technically your boss, who was a good fifteen years older than you. Blushing and squirming every time he said something more than ‘hi.’ Weren’t you better than this? But then you’d see those thick biceps and mysterious eyes, and the answer in your mind would be a resounding no.

Because honestly, you weren’t better than this, you were so much worse. After the good girl incident, you decided that if he didn’t want you yet, he would. You would make sure of it. From then on, every time you were housesitting, you wore your most revealing outfits, did your hair all pretty, and even tried special perfume so you’d smell extra nice.

But none of it seemed to work. He kept up his regular teasing and charm, but to your dismay, he hadn’t railed you on that sad leather couch in the living room. You tried to convince yourself that his gazes lingered longer and that his touches were more strategic, but that felt like reach even for you.

It was so frustrating. What more could you do? You touched his arm while he spoke. You laughed harder at his corny jokes. You even hugged him once or twice when you could justify it. You tried to drop hints every way you could without literally just trying to seduce him, and he did not seem to care. You nearly gave up. You decided that maybe you should just cut your losses and spare yourself the humiliation. Leave yourself with some dignity and resign to just being his housesitter.

You would have done this if not for the fact that he lets you sleep in his bed while he’s gone.

His house was meant for one person. It didn’t have a guest room. He told you on your first gig that you were obviously allowed to sleep in his bed since the alternative was the aforementioned sad leather couch in the living room. He told you to bring whatever you needed to be comfortable - sheets, blankets, pillows - since you’d be there for weeks at a time.

At first, it was too weird. It made you feel dirty, sleeping in his bed while harboring your secret carnal desires. But goddamn, that couch in the living room was uncomfortable. You stuck it out for the first time, but the second time you housesat, you relented and dragged your belongings back to the room you’d forbidden yourself from knowing.

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is pretty blank, but there’s a little more personality here. It made you feel like such a stalker, but you couldn’t help making observations, right? You got to see the type of cologne he wore, the few dusty books he kept next to his bed, what kind of stuff he crammed in the nightstand drawers. It sounded creepy, but you just had curiosity, right?

You set yourself up in his queen size bed, draping the plush blanket you brought with you across the mattress. The bed was comfy enough, but the absolute best part, the part that kept your fantasies alive and well, was the way the sheets smelled like him.

You nearly moaned when you took a deep breath, filling your nose with that familiar scent. It gave you such a rush pushing your face into those smooth gray linens. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help shamefully slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to play with your swollen clit. You clutch the sheets in your fists as you writhe on the bed, whining as you fantasize about your special agent.

Leon had gone years leaving his house desolate without an issue. All that nonsense about potential burglaries and spending money for you had been total bullshit. It’s not like there was anything of value in his house anyway. Those excuses served only as a way to get more of you in his life. He thought housesitting was a happy middleground, a tether to you without being obvious about his motivations.

Ever since he saw you for the first time, heading out your front door, offering a timid ‘nice to meet you,’ he had been hooked. You bewitched him with your sweet temperament, that soft laugh when he told you bad jokes, those gorgeous eyes projecting all the emotions in that pretty head of yours. God, you were so fucking cute.

You made him feel like a dirty old man, sick and perverted for coveting his colleague’s daughter. The embarrassment he felt within himself when he’d notice he was staring at your tits or imagining how your soft lips would look wrapped around his cock was immeasurable. Even though the guilt boiled inside him, he couldn’t stop himself. He craved you. He started finding more opportunities to visit your house, hoping he could steal a few moments of your time. That’s when he knew enough was enough.

Having you as his house sitter worked perfectly. He could have his moments with you without feeling too disgusted with himself. Even though he liked to tease every so often, he kept it friendly. He noticed that you, on the other hand, seemed to be doing everything to change that.

He wasn’t a fool. He could see the changes in your appearance. Those skimpy outfits you’d flaunt yourself in drove him crazy. The way you’d playfully roll your eyes and brush his arm had his cock twitching in his pants. It was becoming all the more tempting to spread you out on the dining table and take what he wanted. But he still wrestled with that part of himself that said to not take it too far. That you deserved better.

That was until you started sleeping in his bed.

He had come home after your second gig, given you your check, and sent you on your way quickly because he was exhausted from his mission. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He could tell the sheets had been freshly washed by the soft feel, but also because you were always going above and beyond to please him. Despite the recent cleaning, he swore to himself he could smell some of your perfume on them.

He looked like a madman, smelling his bed sheets for the faintest hit of that scent. He groaned, picturing you lying here, your beautiful body sprawled out on his bed. He inhaled deeper while conjuring images of your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. It wasn’t long until his dick sprung to life as he saw images of you with one of his pillows between your legs, whimpering as you drag your dripping cunt back and forth along the fabric. He couldn’t help the need to desperately pump his cock to sinful visions of his precious girl.

This morning it’s about six when Leon unlocks the front door and quietly walks inside. He completed his mission hours before. He was tired, but it had been short, only about a week, and relatively easy. He told you he would be home in the evening, but he’d finished earlier than expected.

He trudges through the house and down the hall to his bedroom, collapsing in bed at the forefront of his mind. It’s not until he reaches the door and hears your deep breathing that it occurs to him that his bed is currently occupied. He gently pushes the door open and walks in, planning on rousing you so you could get your money and be on your way. When he sees you though, that plan vanishes from his mind.

The sight of you nearly melts him into a puddle. He pads closer to the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your shiny hair is draped across the pillow as you lie on your stomach with one leg hiked up. Your arms rest close to your face, their raised position causing your t-shirt to ride up and allowing him to see your waist. The blanket was tangled between your legs, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the junction of your thighs covered only by those thin panties you wore.

Despite your beauty, he controls himself. He pulls the blanket over your lower body and sits beside you to contemplate his next move. He came up with a few different things he could do, but all he wanted right now was to watch you sleep. He felt like such a creep, but you looked heavenly in this state. His ears strained to hear those delicate exhales coming from your parted lips.

He could just go sleep on the couch until you woke up. He could just wake you up and offer to let you stay until you had your bearings. Or he could just let himself enjoy this a little more.

He wanted to wake you though. He wasn’t fully sure of what he was doing, but if there was any part of you that had reservations he wanted to know. It would rip his heart to shreds if he frightened you somehow. He begins rubbing your back in long soothing strokes. He makes small circles with his fingers every so often. You stir a little, but don’t wake.

He continues his ministrations, smiling at your sleeping form. He uses his other hand to brush your hair from your face. He strokes the locks away from your closed eyes before leaning closer to you. He can smell that familiar scent that had driven him to humping the sheets for the last few months.

“Hey Angel, need you to wake up for me,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your head.

It slowly registers inside your unconscious mind that you aren’t dreaming. Actual fingers are coasting along your back. An actual voice is coaxing you back to reality.

A low hum emits from your throat as you shift to face the source of your disturbance. Your eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and Leon enters your field of vision. For a second, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

“There she is,” he whispers, giving you that charming smile. He runs his fingers along your jaw and tilts your chin to turn your face completely in his direction.

You feel your brain malfunctioning as he floods your senses. The morning light coming through the window illuminating him as he looks down at you. The deep timbre of his voice speaking to you. His rough fingertips dragging across the smooth expanse of your cheek.

Soon as your eyes come into focus and your mind clears the fog of sleep a little, you grasp enough of the situation to feel a jolt of panic. It felt like you woke up late for school. You shoot up in bed and look at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Oh my God, Leon, I’m so sorry. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just-” you ramble. You go to fling the blanket off of you, but remember you didn’t wear shorts to bed. You have to sit there, looking at him as you feel heat creeping to your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he cuts you off with a quiet chuckle, gently catching your arm when you sit up, “I finished a little early. You don’t need to rush out the door. I figured you’d still be asleep.”

The look in his eyes soothes you. He has that rugged, worn out look that he gets when he comes back from missions. Your heart rate falls back down to normal levels, but your eyes still cast downwards, a little embarrassed he’d caught you unprepared. His fingers trail up and down your arm, and you shift a little to try and hide the fact that your nipples are hardening beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt.

“Thank you. I’ll be up in a few though. I know you’re probably tired,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile.

He moves so that he’s further on the bed with you. He lays back on the pillows and looks up at you, rubbing your back how he was before you woke up.

“Mmmm, I am, but you still don’t need to rush. I’m not gonna complain about a sweet thing like you warming my bed,” he says, that teasing smile spreading across his face and his fingers starting to trace patterns exclusively on the small of your back.

Your eyes flit away as your own smile grows on your face. How were you supposed to be normal about this? You look down at your hands in your lap and mutter a thank you.

“Honey, you really don’t need to be so shy all of the sudden,” he says softly, but there’s a smug lilt to his voice as well. You bite your lip as his hand begins fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He can’t help the smirk and predator-like glint in his eyes that form at your reaction. This was it. That little smile and refusal to meet his eyes was all he could stand. He was closing in now. The flirtation between you two had gone on long enough. He wanted this, and if you wanted it too, his mind couldn’t find a reason to deny the two of you any longer.

“Sweetheart, if you have something to tell me, you can come out and say it. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he says as he reaches up to pull your hair behind your shoulder and out of your face, “And, lately I’m starting to think that’s what you want.”

You look over to him now, your eyes staring into his. Your limbs feel weak, disbelief coursing through your veins. Your thoughts stampede through your mind, but you eventually force the words from your throat.

“I think I want that too,” you breathe. Your heart seizes at his brows playfully rising. You lay down on the bed, resting on your side so that you and Leon are face to face. Your pulse thunders in your ears while you try to conceal how shaky your breathing is.

He scooches over to you, pushing you on to your back and propping himself on his elbow so he’s positioned above you. He leans down and presses two faint kisses to your cheeks. Pulling back, he looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek again with the same soft and slow movements.

“Think, babydoll? I think you know what you want,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “I think you’ve known for a while. Wearing all those cute little outfits, prancing through my house and brushing against me like a kitten. You were just begging for my attention.”

You squirm slightly under the spotlight of his affection. Somehow, you maintain eye contact even though every cell in you feels the urge to look away. Part of your mind wonders if he’s still teasing. If he’s about to pull away and leave you wanting.

Before you could overthink anymore, his head lowers to the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath of you as he moves himself further on top.

“Now, you’ve got it, but all you had to do, sweet thing, was ask,” he says as his mouth ghosts over your neck, “That’s all you have to do right now. Just want to hear that you want me as bad as I want you.”

“Yes,” you whimper without a second thought, “Please touch me.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums as he begins kissing your neck. The kisses are soft. They’re barely there, but they’re overwhelming to you. You can’t help the pathetic sound that leaves your lips as you tilt your head back. The hand that had been touching your face trails down to your waist and begins caressing your side under your shirt.

His tongue gently laps against the skin of your neck between kisses. Your whole body is starting to heat up while simultaneously getting chills. Every inch of you aches for his touch. Your thighs subconsciously spread as your breathing becomes heavier.

Leon lets out a small laugh at your display. “You must really want this Baby. Just a few kisses and rubs and you’re already mine,” he murmurs as his lips move up your neck and down your jaw. He kisses your lips next, giving your bottom lip a little nip.

Another needy sound escapes your mouth. You return the kiss and flick your tongue against his lips. “I do, wanted this since I met you,” you moan, your body writhing for more.

“Naughty girl,” he teases against your lips, “That’s okay though, Angel. I’m the same way. Wanted a handful of these pretty tits since I saw you.” His hand moves up and kneads your breast. His fingers massage the flesh before centering and pinching your nipple.

You whine and arch into his touch. Your eyes flutter as your face contorts with desire. He slides over you, straddling your waist. He stares down at you and takes in what was finally in his grasp. He coos for you to sit up a little while he pulls your shirt off of you. You comply and then flop back against the pillows. Now exposed from the waist up, his eyes feel even more intense. He’s locked on to the view of your tits.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he mutters, “Even better than I imagined.” His hands cup the sides of your breasts, groping them a bit. You can now see his cock beginning to strain against his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight, but it’s gone when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth.

His tongue circles the peak before lapping against it, drawing more whines from you. Your body arches into his touch while his hands never let up their fondling. You take your lip between your teeth again. He moves to give the other nipple the same treatment, leaving the other one cold as the air touches the saliva-coated skin.

He plays with your breasts for a while more before drifting down your abdomen, lavishing your stomach with kisses. He squeezes your waist as he playfully tugs the hem of your panties with his teeth. He looks up at you deviously. “Your nipples were so hard, I bet your pussy’s fucking soaked for me.”

All you can do is nod, any verbal response tangled up in your esophagus. He leans back on his knees and swiftly pulls the garment off. His pupils seem blown out as he gets a look at your cunt. He pushes your thighs to your stomach, spreading you out for his gaze. You felt so exposed, at his mercy as he held you there and just looked at you. Your arms reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt.

“Wanna see you too,” you whimper with pleading eyes.

“Yeah?” he says with a soft smile. He leans back and pulls his shirt off. It takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. “Been fantasizing about me, have you?”

Your eyes rake along his chiseled abdomen, drinking in every line and shadow of his muscular frame. You reach out and pull him back on top of you. His grin grows, and he indulges you. You connect your mouths again, this time sliding your tongue inside his. He groans at your sudden eagerness. He runs his hand through your hair while you feel up his back, exploring the definition there.

You give him a little push, signaling that you want to roll over. His body flips over and takes you with him so that you’re positioned how you wanted. You make out for a minute more until you pull back, looking at him with your lustful eyes and swollen lips.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you say simply, sliding down his body so that you’re lying between his legs. You nuzzle against the bulge in his pants before unzipping them and tugging them down.

His eyes follow your every movement. He pets your head as you rub your face against the outline of his dick. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh.

“That’s a good girl, just gotta give you some love and then you loosen up, don’t you?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you hum. You kiss his solid length over the cloth of his boxers. Then, finally, what you had been waiting for since meeting Leon. You loop your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pull them down, unveiling his beautiful cock.

You wrap your fingers around it, just an exploratory touch. You feel the veins in your hold and the heat radiating from his shaft. You slowly bring your head to the tip to give him some tiny licks. Your eyes dart to his face, looking for approval.

Leon’s chest ached from the way you were looking at him like he was a god. When your tongue sticks out and your eyes return his stare, he nods at you and keeps stroking your hair. Your lips soon wrap around the tip, and you bob your head a little. He groans and his hips twitch.

“That’s a good girl, baby. Good fucking girl,” he moans as your head slides further down his member. His fingers lace through your hair, pulling a little.

The praise only makes you more enthusiastic. You move up and down with more speed, making lewd slurping noises as you work. His hand on your head and his sounds of pleasure has heat collecting in your belly, leaking out of your dripping pussy.

His head rests against the head board as he watches you with half-open eyes. His eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses as you push your head all the way down, taking him into your throat. Spit trickles from your mouth and drips on to his pelvis.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpers, tugging on your hair a little. You taste his pre cum leaking on your tongue. A gagging noise comes from you and his hips twitch harder. He barely restrains himself from bucking up and lodging himself deeper in your throat. You moan around his cock, driving him even crazier. He feels the rush of an orgasm approaching and tugs your hair with more firmness, guiding your head up and off his lap. You whine softly as you lose the taste of him.

“Sorry, pretty girl, don’t wanna cum just yet,” he says.

You crawl back up his body, so you’re in his arms again. You kiss his cheeks and the corners of his mouth as he rolls the two of you over so he’s on top again. He connects your lips in a deep kiss, tasting himself on you as he drags the tip of his cock through your slippery folds.

He doesn’t tease for long though. Soon enough, he’s pushing himself into your tight cunt. You both let out a symphony of sinful noises. Leon watches as your face contorts with pleasure as he stretches you out. You both felt a budding sense of satisfaction after finally receiving what you craved for the last several months.

He bottoms out inside of you. His head falls forward against your neck. He pants as he holds himself together and lets you adjust, keeping an iron grip on your hips. Your fluttering around him as you accommodate his girth. Your nails lightly dig into his back while you cling to him.

He begins thrusting with slow and deep strokes. You moan out his name a few times with a variety of expletives. He keeps his face buried in your neck, grunting as he feels the velvety sensation of your walls around his length. His motions become more fluid as he finds a rhythm with you.

“That’s right Angel, better than your dreams?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you whimper, “So much better. Think your cock was made for me.”

“That so, Baby? I’m made to fill up a precious girl like you? Keep you happy and full of cum,” he growls into your neck, his thrusts gaining intensity.

You nod thoughtlessly as he continues battering your insides, gliding over your sweet spot repeatedly.Your arms wrap tighter around him as you feel yourself getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your noises become more strained as Leon lays sloppy kisses on the side of your head.

He hooks his arms underneath your knees and brings your thighs up to your abdomen again. His arm loops around and thumbs your clit as he slams himself in and out. Your back arches and you squirm from the rush of white hot pleasure. You’re right there, not able to hold on for much longer.

“I’m gonna have you so full of my cum today, it’s gonna be dripping out of you still the next time you’re here,” he grunts into your ear, “Make sure your pussy remembers me till I can fill her again.”

His vulgar words rip a high pitched moan from your throat and cause your eyes to roll back. “Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Squeeze me nice and tight,” he moans, his own voice getting strained.

You do as he says. The orgasm overtakes you. You release a strangled cry as your body rhythmically rolls into the feeling. Your pussy clamps around Leon tight, sucking him deep and keeping the attention on that blissful spot. The thrill of satisfaction rushing through your mind only works you further. Your eyes flutter and your lips part as you completely let go.

As he watches you cum, he notes that it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sight of your gorgeous body writhing and trembling because of him. The primal sounds of your moans and cries. It’s too much for him. He growls and grunts into your neck, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He snaps even harder into you and floods you with his sticky, hot cum.

You both ride the waves of euphoria together until you both start coming down. He basically collapses on you as he catches his breath and you wipe the sweat from your brow. After a minute, he pushes himself off of you and flat on to the bed next to you. He gazes at the ceiling as his chest continues to rise and fall with the need for more oxygen.

You sit up slowly, realizing he probably wants you gone now. Like he said, you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to grab your panties from the corner of his bed. This is how you expected it to be, but it still hurt a little. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Your pulling them back on when your snapped out of your thoughts by Leon’s arm around your waist, dragging you to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks teasingly, spooning you and softly kissing beneath your ear, “You got what you wanted and now you’re running out?”

“Oh, uhhh… I thought you’d want me to leave,” you say quietly.

He guides your face so you’re looking at him. His eyes are still soft but more serious. “You think I would just fuck you and then throw you out on your ass? You’ve been sleeping in my bed for months, but you don’t know me as well as you think,” he says and kisses your nose, “You don’t have anywhere to be today, yeah? You thought you’d be here till later anyway.”

You nod in agreement, your eyes casting down with some embarrassment over your assumption.

“Hey, don’t get all shy on me now. There’s no reason for it,” he teases, “We have all day for me to show you how I want to take care of you. Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I use to be.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut

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munsonsbabygirl · 2 years

Text

pretty hot

part 2: even hotter | part 3: hotter than ever

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You want the lead guitarist of the new band playing The Hideout, and he wants you too.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, some plot but mainly smut, p in v sex, handjob, oral (m receiving), face fucking, semi public sex, kinda rough sex, cum eating?? idk (lmk if i missed anything!)

wc: 3.9k

a/n: my first smutfic!!! pls let me know what u think, feedback is highly appreciated! other than that, enjoy my horny late night thoughts.

(photos found on pinterest)

You don’t really care much for the live bands that your boss hired to play at the bar most nights. Most of them are mediocre at best, just teenagers looking for some extra money, or washed up old timers trying to relive their glory days.

But judging them isn’t your job, your job is to serve shitty bar food to drunk patrons, occasionally flashing a little more skin to bring in more money. It’s not your dream job, but every so often, you come off a shift with a nice wad of tips that would most likely go towards rent and bills.

You don’t care much for any of the bands, except this new one—Corroded Coffin. Mainly their lead guitarist.

—

You're restocking napkins before opening when the band stumbles in loudly, arms laden with music equipment.

Normally, you don't pay the bands any mind, but when you happen to glance over, you clock in on one of the members immediately. He's taller than the rest of his bandmates, broad-shouldered with a head of wild dark hair and equally as dark eyes that meet yours from across the dingy bar in a split second.

"Hi," He calls, raising a ringed hand in greeting. "We're supposed to be playing here tonight?"

You merely shrug, jerking your chin over at the tiny stage area. "You guys can set up over there. do whatever you need to."

He nods curtly, gaze lingering on yours for a tad longer before offering you a wicked grin and herding his bandmates towards where you'd gestured at.

You try not to watch him as he moves smoothly around the cramped space, plugging in amps, testing mics, tuning guitars, all while fooling around with his bandmates and looking strangely attractive doing it.

But you can't help it. your eyes drift back over to him every so often. He's different from all the sleazy, greasy drunks you've seen in this dump of a bar, as cliche as it sounds, and that's what piques your interest. You're not sure if it's the ripped jeans or the leather jacket, or even the wild mane of hair framing his face, but your attention is caught.

No, he's definitely hot.

"Uh, excuse me?" You're so deep in your own thoughts you don't notice that he's made his way from the stage to where you've been refilling ketchup bottles behind the bar until you hear his voice from right in front of you. Your eyes flick to meet his kohl lined ones, and your first thought is how fucking good he looks with eyeliner. Maybe even better than yourself. "Hi."

"Hi." You echo, praying that you don't sound too breathless. "What's up?"

"I'm Eddie. Munson.”

“Nice to meet you. Y/N.” You reply, arching an eyebrow at him. “Can I help you with something?”

“Me? Nah, I just wanted to introduce myself to the hottest girl in here.” He smirks, leaning on the sticky countertop.

You look around at the dim bar. Eddie’s band is goofing off in the corner, and your coworkers are out back taking a smoke break before opening, so his effort at being suave kind of falls flat. “I’m the only girl in here, Eddie Munson.”

“Yeah, I see that now,” He cringes, head hanging low in defeat for a split second before popping back up. “There goes my attempt at impressing you with my witty charm, huh?”

“Charm, not so much. Wit? I’ll give you a solid B plus for delivery.” You laugh, and he perks up instantly, beaming proudly. He seems into you. That’s good. You mirror his propped up position on the counter, although your low cut top proves a worthy distraction for Eddie’s attention. You notice his not-so-subtle glance down at your tits, then the bob of his Adam’s apple as he gulps and tries to make it look like he wasn’t looking at them. “So. You’re in a band. Tell me about it.”

“Well, we’re, uh, we’re called Corroded Coffin. We’re mainly heavy metal, but we can do a few classic rock songs. Mainly just covers for now since we’re still in the writing phases.”

“I can’t say that I know much heavy metal.”

“Maybe we—maybe I can teach you some things.”

“Maybe you can,” You hum, tilting your head innocently at him. You’re not talking about heavy metal anymore, and you both know it.

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink, but he does his best to hide it. Clearing his throat forcefully, he raps his knuckles on the bar, then jerks his thumb over to the stage area. “I should—I’m gonna…soundcheck.”

“Go ahead.” You shrug, but your eyes tell a different story. Your eyes are saying things that he knows he can’t say out loud. (hint: you want him. Double hint: he wants you too.)

“I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here.”

—

Eddie’s eyes barely leave yours during Corroded Coffin’s set, and even less so as the band is packing up their instruments. It only takes them a few minutes to get everything squared up and tucked away, but it’s agony to wait until everyone trickles out of the bar.

One of his bandmates orders a round of celebratory beers that you get to bring over to them, purposely reaching across Eddie to pass one down and giving him a full view of your chest. You even go so far as to let yourself brush against him on your way back, which he damn near chokes on his drink at.

You keep tabs on him as you mill around clearing tables, watching as he constantly shifts around in order to hide the hard on you can definitely see from here. He somehow convinces his bandmates to leave without him, muttering some bull excuse about needing to stay to iron out some money details before next week, and they eat it up without a second thought.

When they finally leave, Eddie beelines towards you instantly, only coming to an antsy stop mere inches from you as you clear off a table. As soon as you’re done, he pushes his way between you and the next table, snatching the dish tub out of your hands and shoving it haphazardly behind him.

“Did you like it?” He asks breathlessly, letting his fingers sneak under the hem of your shirt.

You nod. “‘S good.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He mumbles, leaving no room for further discussion before he pulls you flush against him. You can feel his boner against your bare thigh, and you smirk, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of the back exit.

He's so pretty, you think, as you're stumbling out the back door with Eddie pressed against your back. The fenced area behind the bar is secluded, so you probably won't get caught unless someone made it a point to come out here, which nobody ever did. Even so, there's just something about fucking Eddie out in the open air that seems exhilarating. Maybe it's the thrill of possibly being caught, or maybe it's just because you haven't gotten laid in a while. Either way, Eddie's the perfect solution to all your problems.

He's really fucking pretty, you think, as he pushes you gently against the brick wall of the bar and cages you in with an arm on either side of your head. As his dark brown eyes glint in the moonlight and the smell of musky cologne, sweat, and a tinge of cigarette smoke invades your senses.

No, he's really fucking hot, you think, as his mouth finally closes in over yours in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue with no hesitation. You can taste the beer he'd downed right before this, and also something minty. Gum, maybe.

You don't have time to contemplate it any further before Eddie's kissing down the column of your throat, the warmth of his lips against your cold skin sending a shiver through you. One of his hands manages to trap both your wrists, and he presses them above your head as he sucks a bruise onto your neck. His tongue darts out to soothe the tender spot right after, and you can't help but let out a shaky breath. He's good. He knows what he's doing.

You know what you're doing too. You want to show him.

You tug him away from your neck, enjoying the way his brows crease in confusion when you do. Sinking down on your knees, you drag your hands down his chest, along his stomach, all the way until you’re eye level with his handcuff belt buckle, fingers immediately going to undo it.

"What—what are you doing?" He mumbles.

"Gonna suck you off." You say casually, looking up at him innocently through your lashes. Eddie's mouth falls open just the slightest bit. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah. yes, that's—shit, that's definitely okay."

"Good." You manage to loosen his belt enough to pull his jeans down around his thighs. There's more tattoos here, you notice, each of them more interesting than the last. Maybe you'll ask him about them another time, if there ever is another time. His boxers are sporting a rather prominent bulge, and you ghost your fingers over it gently, a smile curving your lips when it twitches at your touch. "I've barely touched you, Eddie." You tsk, voice teasing.

"Can't help it. You're hot.” His answer is so simple, yet sends a flutter through your cunt.

You finally tug the offending material down and his cock springs out, slapping against his stomach. He's bigger than you thought he'd be. It looks painful, all angry red and rock hard, beads of precum already gathering around the tip. Eddie curses when you run a finger along the vein running almost his entire length, his hips involuntarily bucking.

"Such a pretty cock." You hum, tapping the base of it with a cheeky grin.

"Thank you. Now can you—can you do something? please???"

"Whatever you want, rockstar."

You wrap a hand around his length, pumping him quickly. Eddie's eyes squeeze shut with a hitched breath.

"Fuck," He breathes, his hands forming into fists at his sides. Barely ten seconds into a handjob and Eddie feels like he could explode. Not cool, dude, he thinks, keep it together. You rub your thumb across the slit of his dick, smearing the precum along his tip before licking it—not too hard, but just enough to send another jolt through him.

Your hand works him expertly for a while before ceasing in jacking him off, and Eddie's cock jumps, both at the loss of contact and the cold night air now that the warmth of your hand is gone. His eyes fly open, glancing down at you with a frustrated expletive threatening to fall from his lips.

You take his whole cock into your mouth without warning, and he cries out at the feeling, throwing his head back against the brick. He's warm and heavy against your tongue, almost too long to fit into your mouth entirely, but you make it work. His grunts and moans are making you wet—you can feel your arousal dampening your panties the longer you suck him off.

Eddie's fingers come to grip the back of your head, holding you firmly in place as he bucks his hips against your mouth suddenly. Not expecting it, you gag, one hand flying up to clutch at the rough denim of his jeans as his tip hits the back of your throat. He retreats instantly, loosening his grip on your hair.

"Shit, sorry, i didn't mean to—"

"Do it again." You mumble, dragging your nails lightly down the backs of his thighs.

"What?"

"Fuck my mouth, Eddie."

He gulps, gaze taking in your wide doe eyes looking up at him whilst your spit slick lips are hollowed around half his cock. "Yeah. Okay. I can—sure."

Eddie thrusts into your mouth again, tentatively at first, like he's testing out the waters, then with more enthusiasm when he sees that you're really, really enjoying it. After that, it's like his hips have a mind of its own with they way he fucks your mouth. Spit bubbles around your lips as he does, sloppy, wet sounds only spurring him on even more.

Your eyes water, your nose nudges against the smattering of coarse, dark hair at the base of him, but honestly, you don't hate it. Especially not with the way his eyes are blissfully squeezed shut.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you're good—ah, shit, shit, fuck, Y/N. Baby," He moans in rhythm with his every thrust. He's the one doing the work, but he's giving you all the credit, which is fine by you.

Baby. The pet name makes your thighs clench, even more so with the rasp in his voice as he utters it over and over again.

It doesn't take long for Eddie to shoot his load, and he does it without warning, warm ropes of his cum painting the back of your throat as his hips stutter to a stop. He pries his eyes open to see you gazing up at him through your lashes, milky white on your tongue for a split second before you swallow it. He thinks he might cum again at the sight of it.

You inch your way up his body, straightening up to your full height before mashing your lips on his in a rough kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue as your mouth moves against his fiercely, and he's instantly hard as a rock again.

"D'you have a condom?" You ask breathlessly, trailing down to bite at a soft spot right under the sharp angle of his jaw. Eddie doesn't even hasten a response, just fumbles in his pocket for his wallet and pulls out a wrinkled foil packet. You can't help but stifle a snort of amusement at his eagerness, plucking it out of his hand. "Didn't think you'd actually have one."

"Well, you know what they say. wrap it before you tap it." He mumbles sheepishly, tongue darting out to lick his kiss-swollen lips.

"Wrap it before—you're a dork. Shut up." You order, meeting his lust-blown gaze with a smirk as you tear the packet open with your teeth. Eddie shuts up instantly. His breath hitches even more so when your hand wraps around his dick again, pumping it a few times before expertly sliding the condom on.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your skirt, but linger. "Wait, I just—are you sure you're okay with this?"

No matter how much Eddie wants to fuck you into oblivion, he won't until you give him the go ahead.

"Eddie. I just gave you head, and let you fuck my mouth. I don't know how much clearer I can be."

"I know, but—"

You fix him to the spot with a pointed look. "I need you inside me. now."

Shit, you don't have to tell him twice.

Eddie shifts your panties to the side (thank Ozzy for skirts, one less piece of clothing he has to get through), lining himself up with your entrance and taking in a deep breath that comes back out as a sharp exhale as he sheathes himself inside you slowly. It feels...well, Eddie can't quite come up with the words to describe how you feel, that's how good you feel.

He bottoms out, balls pressed flush against the slickness of your cunt, and he stays there, sinewy muscles taut as he braces himself against the wall behind you.

"Oh, fuck," He bites out, feeling your fingers link around the back of his neck. "Okay, going now."

He really is the biggest dork, telling you when he's finally about to start fucking you, but you don't mind. You think it's cute. Or, you would think it's cute if he weren't balls deep inside you right now.

"Eddie," You whimper, his name falling from your lips more like a plea than anything else as he rocks into you. His pace is immediately relentless, hips snapping against yours so quickly you think you might collapse if not for his hands pinning you against the rough brick wall, fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips.

There would probably be bruises where his hands gripped you, but if it meant he'd keep fucking you like this, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"You like that, huh?" He hums. You just clench around him in response, making him let out a deep, guttural groan. "Jesus, you feel fucking amazing. Squeezing around me like that."

Your mind is so scrambled you can't even produce a coherent response as he fucks you mercilessly, so you resort to giving his dark curls a harsh tug.

Big mistake.

"Oh, you want it harder?" Eddie growls. "I can do that." Without wasting a second, he shifts his feet into a wider stance, one hand coming down under your thigh to wrap your leg around his waist. It allows him to plow deeper into you, so deep that you're sure you can feel him in your stomach, his cock nudging against the spongy spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

The other hand shoves under your shirt, under your bra, and squeezes your tit, the rough pad of his thumb circling over your beaded nipple over and over. It sends a spasm straight down to your cunt, which just makes you clench around him even more. Eddie groans, in heaven from the feel of your velvety walls tightening around his cock deliciously.

"Fuck, Eddie, you're so big—oh my god, yes, yes, right there," Your moans only egg him on even further, encouraging words giving him the strength he needs to fuck up into you even faster, so fast that his balls slap against your skin with every thrust. Your arousal makes a lewd squelching sound every time they do, and Eddie swears it's the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

You don’t even know how long he fucks you for, the only thing your mind is focused on is how fucking good it feels. How completely inappropriate this is. How much you don’t want to stop.

“You’re just a horny little thing, aren’t you, baby? Yeah, you just want me to fuck you til you forget your own name, don’t you?” He mewls against the junction of your neck where his face is shoved into, nipping at the sweaty skin until you let out another borderline pornographic moan.

The feeling of his teeth biting into you, coupled with the intensity and speed of his cock spearing into you, it’s enough for you to start inching your way to your climax.

“I—I’m almost, oh my fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum,” You cry, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at the pure pleasure of it all. Eddie inhales a sharp breath when your cunt squeezes him again, because shit, he’s almost there too. But he’s dead set on making you cum before he does, so he starts to rut against you faster, harder, with more determination than he’s ever had in his life.

You let out a strangled scream, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the flexing planes of his back to find something, anything to hold onto as he fucks you ruthlessly. “Please, please let me—feels so good, Eddie, please!”

You're ascending into the astral plane, you've died and gone to heaven (or hell, probably), you're going up, up, up, until—

"I'm gonna—shit, fuck, I’m coming—" Eddie’s low grunts are punctuated with shorter, sharper thrusts as he reaches his high, flooding the condom with his warm seed, so warm that you can feel it inside you. And that's what sends you over the edge, like a roller coaster finally going over its biggest drop. "Oh, baby, c'mon. Come for me, you got it. Let go."

Your eyes roll up into the back of your head in unbridled ecstasy, legs trembling with the force of your orgasm whilst Eddie continues to fuck you through it. When you've finally reached the bottom, you can't even bring yourself to open your eyes, head lolling onto Eddie's shoulder in exhaustion. He slides his palm over the nape of your neck, up the back of your head, supporting it even though he's weak now too.

"That was..." You mumble, voice muffled against his jacket. You don't even have words to describe it.

"Yeah," He agrees, chest heaving against yours. The two of you stay like this for a while, Eddie still sheathed inside you as you both recover from what just happened.

When Eddie finally does pull out, you instantly feel empty. You can also feel your cum rolling down your leg, but he's quick to scoop it up with two fingers, taking them into his mouth hungrily before sliding your panties back over your wrecked cunt. They’re absolutely soaked now, but it’s not something he needs to concern himself with. "You taste heavenly, baby."

A shudder runs through your body at his filthy words, but you’re still too exhausted to formulate a witty retort. All you can do is lean away from him in a fruitless attempt to fix your extremely disheveled hair.

Eddie tries again, ducking down to meet your downturned gaze. "You look real pretty all fucked out like this, y'know," He croons, trailing a pale hand down your flushed cheek. His cold rings feel nice on your hot skin. You give in, rolling your eyes at him playfully.

"Shut up."

He just chuckles, kissing the side of your head softly, surprisingly soft for someone who just fucked you into the next lifetime. “We should do this again sometime.”

“We should.” You agree, extracting yourself from the cage of his arms with a pat to his leather clothed chest. “I’ll see you next week, Eddie Munson.”

“Wait, that’s it? I just had the best sex of my life and all I get is a ‘see you next week’?” He splutters, nearly tripping over himself as he yanks his pants back up around his waist. “That’s so not fair, Y/N, come on.”

“I have to get back inside to close up. Sorry.” You say simply, but the pleased smirk gracing your lips tells him you’re enjoying his floundering a little too much. Eddie huffs, raking a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I see how it is. Okay.” He straightens out his jacket, frowning, and you know he’s a little upset, so you close the distance between the two of you (very shakily, you might add—you’re a little unsteady on your legs from the sheer size of him), slotting your mouth against his in a kiss. It’s softer than the ones during sex, but still firm.

Eddie’s hand immediately slides around the back of your neck again, biting at your lip and taking your gasp as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

You pull away from him before it can get too heated, loosening your grip on the front of his shirt with a dazed smile.

Fishing the pen out from behind your ear (how it managed not to fall out during your escapade with Eddie, you have no godly clue), you wrap your hand around Eddie’s wrist, scrawling your phone number up his forearm messily. “Call me. Before next week, preferably. But if you choose not to, I’ll just see you then.”

“I’ll call you.” He says quickly—too quickly. Damnit, Munson, play it cool!

“Good to know. Bye, Eddie.”

“I’ll be back.” He repeats his words from earlier, although this time, they mean something different this time. I’ll be back for you.

“I’ll be here.” I’ll be here for you too.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things netflix #eddie munson smutfic #k writes

2K notes · View notes

yun-fangz · 2 years

Text

2:17 a.m. | C.JH

pairing(s): jongho x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: HEAVY ANGST? Mentions/descriptions of severe injuries, almost death, cursing, crying... lots of crying, hopeful ending, hurt/comfort? idk if i missed anything lmk

a/n: hiii here's a quick little blurb i wrote after crying really hard ❤️‍🩹 i was projecting a lot so im sorry 😭 also said event is not mentioned so feel free to imagine any near death experience.

THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD (it's 5:41 am im not doing it..)

if you can read, you can rb so please..

feedback is encouraged (pls)

tag list: @earth-to-leiki unable to tag: @vanafics

Jongho couldn’t breathe as he sprinted into the hospital.

lungs burning as he frantically pushed himself past people, desperately trying to find you. He halted a reception, stumbling over himself, asking a million questions.

“Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down. Take a deep breath, please.” The nurse told him, not able to understand the panic-stricken man. He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and taking in a shaky breath.

“I-I’m looking for y/n..” he finally said after a couple of breaths, panic still evident in his voice. “I need to see her… please.” he pleaded, getting agitated as the nurse was taking her time.

After a couple seconds too long for Jongho’s liking, the nurse finally spoke up once more. Her voice was almost monotonous as she replied, “I’m afraid you won't be able to do that sir, she’s not in a stable condition.”

Jongho felt his heart drop to the floor, the panic in his body only multiplying by a tenfold. “What do you mean? Is she alright? what’s wrong?” He was almost spiraling at this point, mind overcome with too many thoughts of what could possibly be going on.

“I’m sorry but I'm not allowed to relay any of that information to you without confirming your status with the patient.” The nurse replied, an expectant look on her face as she waited for jongho to tell her who he was to you.

“I’m Choi Jongho, her f-finance.” he stumbled over the lie. It wasn’t a complete lie though, he has been planning on proposing for a long time. The nurse simply gave him a curt nod at that, Gathering some paperwork in her hands before standing up and gesturing to jongho to follow.

Immediately he trailed the nurse, letting her lead him into a conference room separate from the public. He entered the room and sat in one of the chairs, the nurse closing the door before she read back one of the papers.

“She’s in severe condition, the doctors don't know if she’ll make it.” If jongho weren’t sitting, he’s positive he’d have fallen to his knees at this. He simply sat there, a grim look plastered on his face as he waited for the nurse to continue.

“She was completely unresponsive when we found her, she was cold. Her heart had stopped for 7 seconds… it's a miracle she’s still alive.” He almost couldn’t breathe, your heart stopped. it fucking stopped. For 7 seconds, and he wasn’t there, wasn’t there when it happened.

He couldn’t stop himself after the first choked sob escaped his lips, the nurse only giving him a sympathetic look as she took a moment before continuing.

“Our doctors are doing everything they can to get her stable once more. If you’d like to stay and wait, you’re more than welcome to Mr. Choi..” She said, standing up and placing the manila folder on Jongho’s lap, turning back to the door.

“It says in the report there’s still brain activity, it seems your fiancé is a fighter Sir. Please don’t lose faith.” The nurse finally excused herself, leaving jongho and the medical documents to their own accord.

It was then where jongho fully let his emotions overtake him, once small sobs evolving into all out cries. Cries of desperation, of fear, of grief. He didn’t know what to feel. He was utterly terrified at the thought of losing you.

He placed the folder on the chair across from him, unable to open it and read the contents inside. He just sat there, cries shaking his body up. He couldn't help but have his mind wander, what happened? Everything was ok? Why did this happen to you?

He couldn't fathom what could've led to this, a seemingly normal day turned horrific. He still remembered the call he got while at work, a bit on edge as it was an unknown caller id. Little did he know, it was the local hospital, informing him of the identification of his girlfriend, unresponsive, and how she was currently on her way to the emergency room for treatment.

He didn't believe it at first, thinking it was just an April fools prank; it was December 30th. Immediately he dropped what he was doing, nearly sprinting out of the building and into his car. He knew he was speeding, almost pushing 90 in a 55 zone. He didn't care though, too worried about you and your well-being.

that didn't matter now though, he was here now, tear ridden as he waited for any update on your condition. He sat there, for hours, not moving from his seat. He listened for any sounds, any sounds of someone approaching the door.

Eventually it opened again, the same nurse from earlier showing herself. A water bottle and a pack of gummies in her hand. Silently, she placed the items by the puffy eyed man, the same sympathetic look from earlier gracing her features.

“Here's a bottle of water and a pack of some electrolyte fruit gummies, you’ve lost quite a few these past hours.” she starts, keeping her distance from the disheveled form on the chair.

“We haven't received any updates about your fiancée, but once we do we’ll led you know right away Mr. Choi.” Unable to trust his voice, he simply nodded his head as an acknowledgment. She took that as a sign to leave, giving a curt nod and exiting the room once more.

Some more time passed before Jongho finally reached over, taking some of the gummies and drinking down the water. He took this time to ground himself as well, telling himself that everything will be ok and not to worry..

God he wished everything would be ok. He wished this never happened to you, that it was him instead. You didn't deserve to go through this, you didn't deserve it at all.

He let himself wander again, getting lost in the guilt until a door slammed open, causing him to visibly flinch as the nurse who was there not even 30 minutes before stood there. Eyes wide and she stared at him.

“It's y/n-” Jongho immediately shot up, fear coursing through his veins at the mention of you.

“What? What about her? Is she alright?” he asked frantically, eyes pleading.

“Please Mr, Choi calm down, s-she's stable now.” The nurse said, stumbling over herself. Once more, jongho broke, a sob of relief tumbling off his lips.

“Oh my god, oh my god..” he wailed, his footing suddenly feeling weak. He felt like he could collapse at any moment, the relief washing over him like waves thrashing in a storm.

“Is there any way I could see her? Please, I need to see her… i need to see her please..” he said through tears, not caring about how he looked. He just needed to see you’re alright.

“Yes, you can see her. Not for long though, the doctors must take her into surgery before her current condition becomes worse.” she replied, but jongho had stopped listening. He was too focused on the fact you were ok.

‘you're alive, you’re alive, you’re alive…’ is all he thought to himself as the nurse led him to another floor, passing many hallways before stopping in front of a room with the door closed.

“She’s right in here.” the nurse said, gesturing to the door. “I'm not sure how much time you have before she goes into surgery so please, don't take too much time.” she finished, stepping back to let jongho enter the room.

The moment he saw you he was unable to move, knees finally giving way as he saw your tattered and bruised form. He stood there on his knees just watching, almost unable to recognize your body with all the bruises and bandages covering your form.

He was snapped out of his trance seeing movement and a wince leave your mouth. He bounced right back up to his feet, rushing to your side, fully taking you in.

“y/n..” he said quietly, as if speaking any louder would break you.

He panicked a little bit when you didn't respond to him, calling out to you a little louder. It was then when another wince left you, eyes fluttering a bit before cringing in pain.

You don't know where you were, but your body was in so much pain. You could hear a voice calling to you but you couldn't recognize who it was, you needed to open your eyes and look but the room was too bright..

“t-to brigh-bright..” soy wheezed out, feeling as if someone had just gutted you moments ago. Jongho was stunned for a moment, unable to move at hearing your voice before he scrambled to turn one of the lights off, rushing back to your side right after.

He sat there patiently as your eyes fluttered once more, eyes not cringing as much. You were awake, my god you were awake.. Jongho tried to suppress the shaky sigh that left his lips, you heard though, trying your best to move and see where the sound was from. You winced as you moved, craning your neck as far as it could go to see.

You sat there for a moment, a confused look on your face as you tried to register who you were looking at. Jongho couldn't help but grow worried once more, why did you look so confused? Did you not recognize him? He opened his mouth to speak but before he could, your hoarse voice spoke up once more.

“J-jong-ho..” you stammered out, bloodshot eyes glossy as you finally registered the man sitting next to you. “Jongho..” you repeated, tears finally falling down your bruised and scratched face.

Jongho broke, he couldn't take it. His head immediately fell to the bed as sobs racked through his body, unable to hold his composure any longer. He sat there by your bedside, sobbing as you stared at him, unable to move and comfort him.

It was a little while before he looked up again and when he did he was met with a tear stained face, fresh ones still flowing. He reached up as he delicately cupped your cheek, gently wiping your tears.

“shhh, it's okay. I’m here, I’m right here darling. Please don't cry..” Jongho said softly. This only made you cry harder, the weight of everything you felt earlier crashing down on you. You sobbed into his palm, the feeling of his warm palm against your skin almost too overwhelming.

“Jongho..” you said in between cries, “i was so scared..” Guilt nipped at him at your words, you were scared, and he wasn't there to save you…

Tears welled up once more as he continued to wipe your tears. “I know… i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry” he couldn't stop apologizing, he felt so guilty.

He moved closer and pressed his lips on your forehead, giving you a slow and reassuring kiss. “I'm here now, I'm not letting you go okay?” he said while pulling away, becoming eye level with you once more.

All you could do was nod, unable to speak as you cried and cried into his palm. He let you stay there and sob, not asking any questions about what happened and how. all he needed to know was that you were safe, he could worry about everything else later.

The soft moment wouldn't last long though as a group of doctors and nurses almost busted through the door, startling you and your lover. The doctors stopped upon seeing his presence, almost as if they weren't expecting him to be there.

The room was silent for a moment or two, before one of the doctors cleared his throat and introduced himself as Dr. Ken.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt but we need to take Ms. Y/N into surgery now.” he said curtly, other medical assistance entering the room and working on getting your bed moving.

Jongho panicked for a bit, he didn't want you to leave him again.. what if something went wrong? As if on queue, he felt you grab his hand still resting on your cheek, bringing it to your lips and giving it a kiss and using all the power in your body to give him a reassuring squeeze.

“I'm g-gonna be ok-kay..” you wheezed out, almost unsure of yourself. However, you stood strong as you held his hand, his gaze still worry-ridden.

He held your hand throughout the trip to the other side of the hospital, stopping once you arrived at the surgery wing. This time it was him that gave the reassuring squeeze, looking at you once more.

“You’re going to be ok.” he reminded, searching your eyes for any sign of nervousness. You didn't say anything to this, only nodding and taking a deep breath.

“I love you.” you said, voice wavering slightly. Taking a deep breath, Jongho bent over to place a delicate kiss directly on your lips, lingering for a moment as if he wanted to engrave the feeling.

“I love you more..” he replied, taking a step back as the nurses rushed around, preparing for the oncoming surgery.

He watched as they wheeled you past the operation room doors, staring as long as he could before they closed. Once you were out of his vision, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

As he made his way over to the waiting area, he couldn't help but worry some more.. Was the surgery going to work? no, the surgery was going to work, you’re going to be ok.

You’re alive, You're alive, You're alive..

i hope you enjoyed <3

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tarotmundomonde · 4 months

Note

I'm the one that sent an 'ask' for can you help me with a reading?cuz I really need itSo firstly.im sorry if this topic makes you uncomfortable or something but I want to know When I was join your free reading before like few months ago when I was asked is he love me or something like that?then you answer my ask on dec.Your answer is definitely true,like almost 100% true like he doesn't care about me,he knows my feelings towards him,he know I'm stalking his social media,he hanging up me,he intends for me as an 'option'.idk why he did this to me😭I even confessed my feelings to him but he replied that he's just enjoyed being friends with me.I used to think that he's non committal type of person,fear of commitment .but no ,I'm wrong .I saw on his bio account that mention a girl,I mean he has gf😭like I'm so broken heart.im so wrong about him.It feels like I've been fooled

But I can't deny my heart that I just want him not someone else.my mind says that he's not good for me,not worth it for me, he's lil bit immature,redflag.but my heart wants him so badly😭I can't with this feelings

I still hope he can love me someday.im sorry maybe it's little bit rude but I used to got a reading from another readers before that he's made for me,that i already knew it that I have great intuition, he has genuine feelings for me but now he's focusing on his career and doesn't want to rush to in relationships with me.but in a reality he said just enjoy being friends with me when I was confessed my feelings and now he has gf..so I'm so confused with that fact.

Can you help me please 🥺 can you do deeper reading for me pls since you gave me the clearest reading.

i want tho know are we really meant to be together?.I really want know anything you'll get from this ,I really don't mind if you give me harsh reading .I'm so hopeless 😭

It's like my feedback but also I ask for a help (again) if you don't mind.my initials is i ♑, he's k ♋

Pls privately answer,don't publicly this ask

Thank you so much .have a nice day

I don't want to risk the ask getting eaten, so I'm not answering privately, but don't worry.

To be honest, I don't think a tarot reading would help you. You already have the answer, he knows what he wants. But what we could do instead is check your birth chart. We could see, if you are going through something at the moment, if you are going through some lessons in love at the moment. In that way we can see what could help with your current situation. If you want me to check, simply send your birth chart here. You can hide your birth data and name, if you want to.

#tarot #tarot reading #daily tarot

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sirenfromthelostcity · 2 years

Text

Movie Night Pt 2. Starry Night

A/N: I don’t even know why it took me so long to finish this. Anyways though, I switched the POV real quick because I thought this way just suited the story better now that’s been extended? Idk but it’s done. Y’all pls let me know what you think of it! Did I get Damian right? I just started getting into DC and so far he’s one of my fav characters so someone pls tell me if I’m doing a good job 😂 also I’ve been feeling kinda like not bad but not great about my writing so I’d really appreciate some feedback/constructive criticism. It’s bad how I need this validation but it also is what it is. To make things easier I’m just putting yours and Damian’s age here at 14-15. I’m already thinking about a 3rd but let me know if y’all want it, you’d be more aged up in it (still debating just how much though) We get a lot more background on you in this part so I hope you enjoy. Also I’m kinda mixing in stuff from both the Titans from the animated movies and the Teen Titans show from the early 2000’s such as the setting because I couldn’t tell if the setting in the animated films was San Francisco or not. Also I loved the TT show so much as a kid and my lil heart just couldn’t help not including it in this lol. I actually also included a villain from the show as well but I did research his comic abilities too, it’s just all a big ole mix that I hope you enjoy lol. I don’t think I have anything else left to say. Enjoy!

Part 3!

Word Count: 3,368

The low ticking of the timer and the sound of Damian’s sword clashing with that of his opponents echoed throughout the training room. As soon as he defeated one hologram two more would appear, as per the setting he picked when he initiated the training sequence. Sword training always helped him blow off some steam and quite frankly, he was on a roll. Damian was successfully dodging every attack and striking back powerfully and efficiently. He was well on track to beat his own personal record. Then he heard her laugh.

It was faint at first but he could hear it getting closer. Instinctively he turned towards the entrance but no one was there yet. Just then one of the holograms went in for a strike, Damian countered it at the last second causing him to mess up his footing and fall. He groaned in frustration and got back up to attack but the timer beeped and the holograms disappeared.

He scoffed, angry with himself for having been so easily distracted. He became even more displeased when he saw it was Jamie whom she was laughing with.

“Greetings, Damian,” (y/n) smiled upon finally entering the training room, Jamie trailing close by. “I hope we are not interrupting.”

“What do you need?” he asked, already making his way to the control table to reset the training simulation.

“Straight to the point as usual,” Jamie rolled his eyes. “We’re all gonna go get some smoothies in a bit, wanna come?”

“I’m going to patrol tonight,” he curtly replied without looking up from the controls he was handling.

“I understand the desire to protect the city. But it is also to my understanding that criminal activity has been at an all time low as of late,” she said hopefully. “Perhaps you can spare a night to join us in the relishing of juiced fruit and in having the fun?” She looked to Jamie for support.

“She’s right,” he chimed in. “It’s just one night man, live a little.”

“I live plenty on my own,” Damian responded.

The timer reappeared along with three holograms and Damian began to make his way to the center of the small arena. Taking that as a clear indication that he was done with the discussion, Jamie and (y/n) walked towards the exit. Damian did not miss the dejected look on her face but he ignored the sharp pang of guilt for he knew was responsible for it.

A moment later the timer started and Damian resumed his battle with the holograms.

Later into the night…..

Damian stood perched on one of the highest buildings in Jump City, scanning the streets below for any suspicious activity. To his boredom, nothing was going on.

“Hmmph, she was right…” He muttered to himself.

It was obviously a very good thing that the crime rate has recently decreased in the city. But tonight Damian could not be more annoyed by the lack of it. It wasn’t simply a matter of being bored but a matter of not being occupied.

The training simulations are extremely helpful in maintaining one’s physique but for him, it was also just great for keeping his mind and body focused and busy. It was working so well for him today. Until (y/n) walked in.

(Y/n)

He started to reminisce on her smile upon greeting him and then on her disheartened expression when leaving. The pang of guilt returned but there was no hologram to fight to forget and move on. There was no crime to focus on to stop. There was nothing to stop his mind from wandering to her. Specifically his encounter from last week’s movie night.

Not only did he look back on how physically close his teammate was to him but on how oddly nice it felt to have her by his side. It felt gratifying to have been chosen by her as protection from what was scaring her. Sure it was simply a movie but that’s what made it all the more amusing to him. Here was a girl who battled aliens and several other criminals yet a horror film is what had her seeking shelter behind her teammate. To him it was comical but not in a bad way.

Damian had tried to not ruminate on the event and when he did think about it he’d downplay it. He’s been telling himself that it was just a matter of convenience for her that he was nearby and didn’t immediately reject her actions. But then he’d remember what she told him at the end of that night and their hug. Convenience or not her words and embrace were both warm and touching, regardless of how much he didn’t want to admit it.

He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and began pacing to different sections of the rooftop. Again he scanned the streets for anything to do. Of all nights, why did the city have to be quiet tonight?

Suddenly, like an answer to a twisted prayer, Jamie’s voice echoes through his comm line.

“Titans! Dr. Light is robbing the CNP bank on west 24th, regroup there now!”

A smirk quickly formed on his lips before retrieving his grappling hook and jumping into the city streets.

____________________________________________

(Y/n) and Raven sat on the outside tables provided by The Groovy Smoothie shop and contentedly slurped their drinks. Jamie and Garfield had sat with the girls earlier but decided to check out the new arcade that recently opened nearby. (Y/n) and Raven were of course invited to tag along but they opted to stay instead. Having never tasted these concoctions before coming to earth, (y/n) quickly became obsessed upon trying them.

“Are you starting to feel full yet?” Raven asked with a small but amused grin on her lips.

(Y/n) was on her fourth smoothie of the night.

“Not quite. But I think it is worth mentioning that I have nine stomachs. However, I am feeling quite satisfied.”

“You must also have a killer metabolism. Guess that’d explain how you can handle Gar’s cooking,” Raven chuckled.

“His diet and cooking style is certainly unique and I have never had anything like it before on Tamaran. I imagine it would be a popular new cuisine.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to know that if it doesn’t work out for him he could always go to Tamaran to become a chef,” Raven jested.

(Y/n) lightly laughed but chose to steer the topic away from her planet.

“I hope Damian likes the smoothie I got for him. I had meant to ask what flavor he likes the most but he had already left to patrol.”

“Believe me, I think the gesture alone coming from you would be enough for him.”

What does she mean by that?

Before she could ask Raven to elaborate on her comment they both receive Jamie’s distress call on their comms. They shared a brief look of concern and in an instant they were both phasing into their uniforms as they flew to meet with their teammates.

By the time they arrived on the scene, Jamie and Garfield were already engaged in a fight with a man in a black suit and a goatee. Actually, they were engaged in a fight with multiple copies of this man, holographic copies to be exact.

Someone certainly picked up on a few new tricks while they were in hiding.

Upon seeing the big lightbulb icon in the middle of the man’s suit, and along with the fact that Jamie and Garfield were fighting his copies, (y/n) concluded that this was Dr. Light. He hadn’t noticed her and Raven’s arrival yet but she could immediately see his next plan of attack.

With a sinister smile on his face, he raised his gloved hand and pointed it at an occupied Jamie. He shot a light beam but before it could cause any harm to Jamie, (y/n) quickly summoned a red forcefield around him. The light beam deflected onto a lamp post causing it to nearly fall on Dr. Light. He huffed in annoyance at the close call but his evil grin returned once he saw who was responsible for his near demise.

“Ahhh I don’t believe I’ve seen you before,” he directed at (y/n). “Which coincidentally gives me a new idea for my next trick.”

He activated a switch on his suit and in an instant he was gone. She looked around but he was nowhere to be seen.

Did he teleport away?

A light beam suddenly shot out from behind and struck her. (Y/n) shrieked in pain and shock causing her to lose her flight and fall. Instead of feeling the hard concrete from below that she expected, she felt another body collide with hers before landing safely on the ground.

“(Y/n),” Damian quickly scanned her for any injuries. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she groaned. “I just require a minute.”

“Stay here,” he said before promptly rising and joining his teammates.

As she regained her senses, (y/n) could see that Dr. Light had conjured even more holograms. A distraction tactic no doubt. Dr. Light had yet to physically reappear but she knew he was still there. She could hear his malevolent laugh as he began to take down each of her teammates one by one.

He threw a metal contraption at Jamie which then trapped him into a giant transparent orb. For both Raven and Garfield he threw another mechanism that blinded them both and stunned their senses. Damian managed to defeat the rest of Dr. Light’s copies but before he could look for the villain he was suddenly blasted with a light beam, effectively subduing him.

“Foolish children,” Dr. Light laughed again. “Can’t hurt what you can’t see now can you?”

At this (y/n) growled, growing more and more frustrated, her eyes began to glow a deep red. She floated up from the ground with red energy culminating around her body. She expanded her arms causing the red energy to erupt from her body, not only forcing Dr. Light to reveal himself but causing him to stumble back from the impact. She immediately spotted him and with a swift motion of her hand she encased Dr. Light in her power and brought him closer to her in a menacingly slow pace.

To say Dr. Light was paralyzed in fear would be an understatement. He was incredibly afraid but he was also actually paralyzed. Even if he did have the courage to try and escape this death grip he could not physically will his limbs to move. He was completely at her mercy and she didn’t have a particularly large amount left for him.

She flicked her wrist and piece by piece his suit was falling apart until he was left in nothing but the undersuit of his suit. Powerless.

With the dismantlement of his suit, his mechanisms began to fail and her teammates were freed from their contraptions.

“Um, I think you got him (y/n). We’re good now, you can let him go,” Garfield had told her.

But that did not stop her. Overcome by her anger, she flew higher, bringing Dr. Light with her, and she began to suck the air out from his lungs. He was uncontrollably gasping and at this her teammates finally realized just what she was doing.

They called out to her to stop but she did not listen. Jamie quickly flew up to confront her.

Not registering that it was her teammate, (y/n) instinctively raised up her other hand with a ball of red energy in the center, ready to strike. The scarab instinctively reacted and aimed its blaster at her.

“(Y/n), it’s me” Jamie calmly stated. “Let him go.”

She did not back down but neither did he.

“Please don’t make me do this,” he implored. “Let him go, now. I won’t ask again.”

(Y/n) blinked, looking between Jamie and a dying Dr. Light before coming to her senses. Slowly she and her hostage descended.

She landed on her knees with her gaze cast down and shoulders slacked. Meanwhile Dr. Light was profusely coughing and gasping on his hands and knees, finally able to breathe.

“I am sorry,” she said before promptly rising up again and flying away.

Damian called after her but to no avail. If she heard him she made no attempt to show it. All he could do was watch as she flew away.

____________________________________________

Finding her wasn’t hard. Damian had placed a tracer on all of his teammates upon meeting them long ago. Within seconds he knew where she was heading. To Titans Tower, back home.

He decided to not immediately seek her out. He knew she’d need some time to be alone. But when he did he knew where to look. And that’s exactly where he found her, sitting on the rooftop with her feet dangling in the ledge.

“May I join you?” he asked.

(Y/n) looked up at Damian, he was still in uniform but he wasn’t wearing his mask. She briefly nodded and returned her gaze to the oceanview before them.

He took a seat next to her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She silently nodded.

Damian knew that physically she was fine but mentally she’s had a day. Still, he didn’t want to push so he silently waited in case she wanted to share more.

“I did not mean to take it that far.” She started. “I was not even aware that I could… do that.”

He looked at her and her gaze fell to her hands. “It’s okay. It was an accident.”

She shook her head. “But it was not. Although I did not mean for it to happen that does not mean I did not want it to.”

Damian frowned in confusion and she continued.

“He was hurting everyone. I knew I had to stop him and I did. I should have stopped as soon as I had rendered his suit useless but I could not. It did not feel like enough. My powers are strongly driven by my emotions and… I lost control.”

“I understand,” he said, earning a glance from her. “When people you care about are hurt or in danger you want nothing more than to exterminate that threat. I’m still learning that just because you can doesn’t mean you should. My father taught me something for moments like those, a sort of mantra. Justice not vengeance.”

“But how can one not strive for vengeance when the people they care about are being hurt?”

“It definitely takes practice,” he said, recalling the first time he was introduced to the saying.

“But what about achieving justice through vengeance?”

“Father says those two things aren’t interchangeable. If you fall for vengeance you’d be falling farther and farther from the justice that you initially sought. It’s what separates us from the criminals, or so he says.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “He sounds wise.”

“He is, amongst other things.”

(Y/n) giggled at his last comment and he lightly chuckled with her.

The two teens rejoined in a comfortable silence once again. The setting is incredibly serene so neither one of them felt compelled to really say anything else. But then he saw her glance ascend from the ocean to the night sky and could not help himself from asking.

“Do you miss Tamaran?”

She briefly looked at him then back to the ocean.

“Sometimes. I was born and raised there after all. However, times have changed. With how the planet is currently ruled, I would not be welcomed back.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” she looked down and fidgeted with her hands. “When the citadel captured me they didn’t just torture me. They conducted several experiments on me. The last one was with this ancient stone they found. I had overheard some of them talk about its power and danger. Truthfully, with the way they spoke of it, I do not think they anticipated my survival. I did not either... But when they used the stone on me it somehow bonded with me. It was a welcomed surprise as it aided my escape. However it also altered my DNA. I no longer physically appear Tamaranean, therefore, I would not be accepted back as such.”

Damian didn’t realize but his features were softening at her words. He knew all about the Citadel and their history with Tamaran, courtesy of the computer in the Batcave. He knew that her powers came from experimentation but not that she was alienated because of it. He knew much less of the extent of torture she endured.

“However, I did retain some latent characteristics. Tamaraneans are very emotionally driven people and I vividly exemplified that today. I have also retained my nine stomachs and the ability to instantaneously learn any language through lip contact.”

That last detail was also something he was aware of. Her confirming it merely gave him a thought that caused him to blush. Thankfully she was too focused on the night sky to notice.

“Well that explains why your eyes don’t glow. Most of the time at least.”

A small smile formed on (y/n)’s lips. She brought up her hand and a small ball of red energy began to flow between her fingers.

“It is still alien, yes but not technology. It is something else…I am something else.”

“No,” he interjected. “Your power may have physically changed you, but you’re still (y/n). You’re nice, strong, valiant, and you care about your teammates. You’re a Titan and this is your home.”

Damian didn’t know what came over him to say such words but he knew that he meant them. And more importantly (y/n) knew he meant them as well.

Not being one to hide her emotions, although the same cannot be said for the other, (y/n) threw her arms around Damian and captured him in yet another hug.

He slightly jumped at the suddenness of it. This was his second hug in two weeks. He valued his personal space and everyone knew about that. Yet he didn’t mind when she invaded it. Or at least it didn’t feel like she was invading it, it wasn’t a nuisance when she did it. He didn't mind when she entered his space.

His heart rate had increased at her sudden action but now it was steadying to a normal beat. Tentatively, he raised his arms and hugged her back.

“Oh my X'hal!” she abruptly broke away.

“What, what happened?” he frantically looked around their surroundings. Did she sense something he could not see?

“I have left your juiced fruit drink back at the Groovy Smoothie,” she sighed.

“What?” he asked, confused. Then it clicked for him. “You bought me a smoothie?”

“Yes. I had planned on retrieving it once we defeated Dr. Light but with everything that happened I forgot it. It is long gone now,” she sulked.

“That’s what you were so concerned about?” he asked, the ends of his lips curling into an amused smirk.

“Yes,” she seriously replied.

Damian couldn’t help but lightly chuckle. His arms relaxed at the false alarm and that’s when he realized he was holding onto her. He quickly let go and brought his arms back to his sides. (Y/n) didn’t think much about it but she smiled at how bashful he was.

“I thought you would enjoy one when you returned from your patrol. I am sorry I left it behind.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged.

He did a great job at playing it nonchalant but Damian was really touched by her gesture. It was a simple smoothie, sure, but he liked that she thought about him.

“We can get smoothies together some other time,” he added.

“Tomorrow?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Again, he was casual but he was already looking forward to their plans. It’d be ideal to not be interrupted by any more criminals but Damian knew that he and (y/n) would be more than capable of handling them.

A/N Again!: I didn’t wanna spoil it by putting it in the beginning but I was trying to write your powers to be like that of Scarlet Witch. Yeah I’m mixing in Marvel too now sue me (pls don’t I don’t have any money). I think she’s super badass and to be honest I kinda felt like I cornered myself by making you an alien bc I just didn’t really know what to do with that and Starfire is another one of my favorite characters so I took pieces from her origin story and that of Scarlet Witch’s. Hope it made sense and I hope you liked it. Also I really wanted to make your character powerful and imo Scarlet Witch’s abilities are super powerful. Like I’m sure the Titans always appreciated you being on their team but now they’re extra glad you’re on their side lol.

#Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne #reader insert #pls send feedback y'all #thx #robin x reader #robin #teen titans #damian wayne x scarlet witch reader #scarlet witch reader

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emotionallywreckd · 3 years

Text

Time

requested by: nobody! it was something I wanted to write hehe

summary: not everyone can be saved

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

authors note: might be sad, idk about the ending but pls let me know what you think! I leave reading your feedbacks :)

word count: idek (not edited)

Somehow, things change. A lot of things do. People can change and sometimes not everyone can do anything about it. We all just have to sit back and watch as the person we all once knew, slowly disappears to someone new.

And for a while, Y/N noticed it too and the others as well. She wasn’t the same as she was, the typical bright and kind-looking girl was no longer seen. She was almost never seen, out by the day and into the night. Rarely getting enough sleep. Everyone could see she was being too hard on herself. But who could blame her, if you’ve lost someone, you’re never truly the same.

Y/N had been out, sometimes for more than a day doing petty little crimes or missions that she had been ordered from different people for some Kruger.

The others hadn’t dared to comment anything about what she does. Sometimes she’d come home with little to no Kruger and sometimes it’d be handfuls.

Kaz, who had seen and been with her since the beginning has seen it all.

All through her hardest times, he’s seen all the tears and laughter coming out from her, and now it’s just nothing.

Kaz out of all the people was the last person to notice. Was it because he was just too busy with the club? Was it because he chose to ignore it?

Kaz himself didn’t quite understand why, why he had let it get this bad, and why he didn’t do anything to help.

Y/N had been out all day and night before she had come home, and to her surprise, Kaz was waiting for her.

She smirked, “You’re never up this late.” She spoke pouring a pint of beer.

Kaz looked at her. “Where did you go?” He asked.

Y/N shrugged, “Places.” She said taking a sip.

“I just wanna know,” Kaz said. “Are you safe?”

She laughed, was it intended to be an insult, or was it just because he cared? Because Kaz Brekker hasn’t cared, not for anyone for a while.

“Are you asking if I can protect myself?” She questioned.

Kaz did nothing but stare.

“I’m fine. Haven’t died yet.” She blurted out finishing her beer.

Kaz sighed, “Why are you doing this to yourself? Is it because of her?”

Y/N eyes glared at him, her heartbeat pacing, and her breathe paced. “Don’t you dare talk about her.” She snarled, her eyes spitting fire. “You don’t have the right to talk about her.” She said one last time as she raced upstairs.

Kaz sighed looking down. He didn’t want to lose her, he didn’t want her to go through things he had to go through. She didn’t deserve it.

“Inej.” Kaz breathes out noticing a familiar presence whenever Inej had come by.

There popped Inej out from the shadows, her eyes looking strained and worried.

“Is she okay?” She asked.

“No.” Kaz sighed. “I don’t know.”

Inej sat down next to Kaz, “I overheard the two of you talking. Who is she talking about?” She asked.

Kaz didn’t know how to respond or even if he could respond to it. It wasn’t his place to say anything about it but he felt that at the moment, he needed someone to understand what she was going through.

“It’s her sister.” Kaz replied.

Inej grew intrigued. She knew Y/N had a sibling but never talked about her, not at all. There would only be times where she was mentioned, but that would be it. Nothing but a whisper.

“She died when she was passing through the fold.” Kaz informed.

Kaz had known about Y/N’s sister because he was the first person that Y/N had met after crossing the fold.

She was injured and covered in blood and dirt. Kaz had been on a mission with Jesper, when he spotted her, all smothered up in some ripped clothes, while Kaz had ordered Jesper to get some blankets and clothes for her, Kaz couldn’t help but have flashbacks of what had happened before.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

Y/N looked up, she hadn’t even realized that all she kept saying was that she was dead. Her words coming out barely as a whisper.

Kaz looked at her dearly, “Look, we can help you but you need to tell me your name.” Kaz spoke.

She hesitated but knew she needed the help. “Y/N.” She whispered.

Kaz sighed, his heartfelt some sort of relief. “Okay, Y/N. Are you okay to stand up and walk?” He asked. Y/N nodded her head.

Jesper had come in just in time, gesturing him to hand out his arm to use it as support for her to walk.

Y/N gladly offered his hand as this was the first time a stranger had offered to help.

When Kaz had taken her in, she was shy at first. Mostly indebting herself to work and more work. It was a way for her to keep thoughts out of her head and kept her busy. Kaz understood that.

She had never really asked for anything after they had helped and cared for her. It was mostly her who had offered any assistance or if they just needed anyone to do anything really.

For some time, they did notice that she was slowly changing. From this quiet, very reserved young girl to someone who stood up and showed that she could take her of herself.

When Inej and Y/N had met she took an interest in her skills. She trained with her every day and whenever she could.

Jesper had also helped her with other things like how to handle a gun and of course aim and shoot.

It was difficult of course but Kaz noticed it changing her. She became happier, had let herself loose rather than suffocating in silence.

Y/N had taken many other things into a habit. Often you'd find her training or building different types of equipment.

Kaz just wondered where did everything go so wrong?

It was out of the blue, she was happy and fine in the morning. And then all of a sudden, she had come home barely saying anything.

"So, do you think something happened on that day?" Inej asked. Kaz nodded his head.

"Whatever happened, something in her changed. She's more fuel in rage and anger." Kaz explained.

Inej sighed. "Do you know where she might've gone or if she had met anyone?" She asked.

Kaz shook his head, "Before, I had asked one of the crows to keep an eye out for her whenever she was out but for some time they'd just report back that she was training or was out in the forest picking at stuff. So I told them to stop." Kaz sighed, "I should've kept watch."

"You couldn't have known." Inej replied.

"That's the thing Inej." Kaz said abruptly with anger. "I should've."

Kaz blamed himself. He was their leader. And he had failed her.

Inej stood up, "Look, I'll try and see if anyone had seen or heard what happened on that day." Inej explained.

Kaz nodded as he pushed back his hair in anger and frustration.

Y/N sat in her chair as she stared out the window. Her thoughts rivaling in her head.

So many words, so many memories filled with hatred and loss. But she couldn't help think of the good.

She couldn't help but think about the times where she laughed. Or the times when she would simply just smile.

Her laughed echoed. "Kaz, you simply just can't just stand there! You have to try." She giggled.

Inej, Jesper and Kaz were outside, target boards out in the field as Inej and Y/N were practicing their throw with their knives.

Kaz shook his head, "I'm simply here to watch."

"Watch who exactly?" Jesper joked around earning a few laughs with Inej and Y/N.

Kaz glared at Jesper, while Jesper took his hands out in defense. "I know you're here to watch me. What can I say, I have that effect on people." Jesper smirked.

The two girls laughed, "Oh Kaz! You have to try, please?" Y/N pleaded, popping out the puppy dog eyes that Kaz simply, cannot resist.

“Fine.” Kaz grumbled. He walked towards the two and positioned himself right in front of the target. He took a deep inhale as he squinted his eyes at the target, right at the middle and then, he threw.

Gasps can be heard coming out from everyone’s mouths. “Kaz! Holy shit you can throw.” Y/N shouted in enjoyment.

Safe to say, this boosted Kaz’s ego. He liked it when she complimented him. He craved more of it.

“You doubt my skills?” Kaz questioned.

Y/N shook her head, “Nope. Just your ability to actually do it.” She smiled.

Kaz smiled back. Both their eyes locking into each other. It felt as if everything around them were just frozen and the only thing mattered was each other.

Y/N sighed as she remembered those times. The memories she kept fond of. It was always something with Kaz that had made her so happy. And now, it’s like she didn’t know whether she could continue.

But Y/N she had, for her.

Everyone who knew of Y/N had known something was going on inside her, they just hadn’t had the clue to what it was about.

After a while, Inej took her opportunity to fulfill’s Kaz’s request to find out what had happen during that day that made her return to such a person.

And from the information that she had received, she didn’t know if she had the courage to tell Kaz but she knew she had to.

Sighing, Inej had popped out from the shadows as Kaz sat in his chair. “Kaz.” She spoke.

“Inej.” Kaz said looking up from his papers. “What is it?” He asked. His eyes full of hope.

“Y/N.” She whispered. At the immediate sound of her name, Kaz stood up.

“What is it?” Kaz asked impatiently.

Inej sighed, “When she went out during that day. I found people. People that spotted her out by the dock.” She informed. Her eyes never taking off from Kaz. Afraid of what he would say or what he would do.

“There was a man, Y/N and that man were arguing. It got violent. It didn’t sound or look good from what others have said.” Inej sighed.

“What? What man? What happened?” Kaz asked.

“Kaz, that man they were talking to was the one that got them through the fold. The man that killed her sister.” Inej finished off.

Kaz didn’t understand what to do of such situation. “Who is he?”

“No one knows his real name. He’s just called the Voyager.” Inej replied. “Kaz, when they were arguing, it got violent. To the point Y/N had almost killed the man. He kept saying that it wasn’t him who killed her, but herself. Y/N’s sister, she wanted to go into the fold to kill herself.”

There he stood silently. His thoughts crumbled, words coming in and out. He didn’t know how to react or what to feel.

All Kaz could think about was Y/N. All the anger she had grown to push away must’ve came rushing back in. The vengeance, the frustration, the sadness. She must’ve took it in so much and so fast in just one day.

Kaz knew that although Y/N had changed from the person she was before, this was enough to bring back her old self.

A person she didn’t want to go back to but couldn’t help but reside to it.

She must feel so alone.

“Where’s Y/N right now?” Kaz asked Inej.

Inej shrugged, “Last I heard she was out.”

Kaz groaned. He quickly grabbed his cane and coat and headed towards the door. “Come. We have to find her.”

Y/N had walked around endlessly about whether or not she should do it.

In her head all she could think about was her sister. How could she have told a stranger her death wish rather than her own blood?

Her heart ached and felt like it was broken into a million pieces. She felt so hopeless and lost.

If she had known, maybe she would still be alive.

Y/N took a deep breathe in. Quietly, she entered the room ahead of her. Her eyes watched every corner as she moved silently.

There she spotted the man. He sat there, happily and eating. As she stared at him, the more anger she felt.

Y/N lunged herself towards the man, a knife gripped on her right hand. “You killed her!” She shouted.

The man turned around and saw as Y/N lunged herself to him. He grabbed both of her wrists, squeezing them tightly before he threw her to the ground.

“You!” He yelled as he recognized the girl that had beaten him up. “I didn’t kill your sister.” He snarled. “She killed herself because of you.”

Y/N growled as she grabbed her extra knife, gripped it tightly again in her hands and just before she lunged it towards his chest. A shot was fired.

“No!” Kaz shouted as he rushed in the room. “Inej!” Kaz shouted.

There Inej stood, her knives in her hands and already aimed at the man.

Inej threw her knives towards the man where it had hit him just below his shoulders.

“Y/N!” Kaz cried out. He rushes to her side, his hands barely touching hers as it just laid by his side. “What did you do?” He cried out.

“It was all my fault.” Y/N choked out. Blood can be seen seeping from her clothes.

Inej had sat down next to her, her hands on top of her wounds as blood gushed out. Kaz glanced at Inej and Inej shook her head, it was bad.

“She died, because of me.” Y/N cried out. “It was all my fault.”

Kaz’s eyes were red, “No, Y/N. It was not your fault so you hear me?” Kaz cried. “It’s not your fault.”

Y/N smiled as she stared at his face. “Kaz.” She mumbled out in pain. “I’m so happy to see you.” She smiled.

“How can you smile right now? You’re dying.” Kaz argued. His eyes still red, his hands still not touching hers.

“I’m smiling because I’m thinking of you.” She whispered. Her hand reaching towards his face. “Can I?” She asked.

Kaz glanced at hands, she wanted to hold him at least once. Just this once, she wanted to know what it felt like holding him.

She placed her hand gently at his cheeks. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I’m sorry.” She choked out. Blood soon coming out of mouth. She struggled to speak her words but Y/N knew she couldn’t.

She just didn’t have enough time.

#kaz brekker ships #kaz #shadow and bone kaz #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kaz brekker

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pcvensies · 3 years

Text

*.• Si vis amari.

0. prologue.

* dad!satoru x mom!nanamioc x son!megumi ( kinda adopted??? kinda just taken??? ) slowburn, angst!, long fic, found family trope, fluff, funny, idk pls keep reading :(

* word count: 1300.

* in which 18 year old gojo satoru is left in charge of 6 year old fushiguro megumi, with the help of 17 year old nanami suki (oc).

{ HEY SO UH this fic is very self indulgent but i hope it finds some found family bitches like me who needed it. because damn i did, so i wrote it. ik it’s not a reader fic IM SORRY OKAY, i know those are more liked but give suki a chance we truly are all suki. PLEASE DONT LET IT FLOP IT IS A PROJECT V DEAR TO ME. this is a small intro to see if u guys like it or nah. love u <3 }

next part

It was a terrible idea, really. Out of all the terrible ideas Gojo Satoru had had - and there had been plenty of them - this one was definitely the worst of them all. But we are meant to respect the dead’s wishes, right? And a favour asked by a now dead man, even if not much, meant something to him.

Also, he was dying to see the look on the Nanami twins’ faces, especially Kento’s.

The way to their apartment was silent, and awfully awkward, as any try he had made to keep a conversation with that hedgehog of a child had been ignored by the boy. Such a little asshole.

“Can you at least smile a little?”.

Silence.

“Maybe don’t, Nanamin doesn’t either. He may be more receptive to those of his kind…”.

Silence.

Satoru had no patience to deal with any of this anyway, and the small six year old by his side possessed an incredible ability to get on his nerves, even without saying a single word. Can he even speak? Geez, Fushiguro, he thought to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as the elevator started going up.

The small card which read “Nanami” wasn’t far from the elevator, and Gojo’s only thought was how annoying it must be to hear the engine going all day. But they had refused, and had been allowed somehow, to live in the school, so they had brought that upon themselves.

Kento was doing the dishes when the bell rang, and he sighed, shaking the soap from his hands.

His sister, Suki, was in the shower, and she had left him to clean everything from dinner, as always. Don’t get it wrong, she was as responsible as a seventeen year old living by herself in the city could be, but there was something about the dishes that just “grossed her out”.

“BELL RINGING!”, he heard her yell from the shower, and rolled his eyes.

Like he was deaf, or something. However, it made him suspicious that anyone would ring at their door after dinner time, and he gave it a moment of hesitation before walking to the entrance.

“Oh, Nanamiiiinnn, c’mon… I know you’re home. It’s not like you do anything with your life outside of the classes anyway, you can’t trick me!”.

Kento almost turned around in that exact moment, knowing damn well that nothing that had to do with Gojo at that time of the day could be good, but he was a well educated boy. So against his own wishes, he opened the door.

“It’s nine thirty, Gojo”, was his greeting, as he looked at the white haired boy in front of him.

Satoru waved his hand in front of him, like taking importance from it, and looked around the place, eyes searching for the other twin. In the worst scenario, Kento would try to call the police on him. But if Susu was around, she’d be able to talk him out of it.

“Gojo, I’m serious”.

“Are you ever not, dear Nanami?”, the man replied fast, followed with a sigh, “Isn’t Suki home? She could be of use right now, honestly”.

Satoru had to be very fast to get his foot between the door and the wall, or Kento would’ve locked him out for that comment.

The white haired boy apologised with a chuckle, and his eyes finally found the pink streak of hair, almost drowned by a sea of blonde, that covered Suki’s head.

She was tiny, he had realised, much shorter than himself and her twin, the big red sweatshirt she was wearing making her even smaller. Her honey-ish eyes found Gojo’s sight, and the boy sent her a grin.

“Sue, you have finally decided to bless us with your prese-“.

“What have you done this time, Gojo?”, was all he got from her, as she tied her hair and walked to the door, now standing next to her brother, “Need somewhere to hide from Yaga?”.

Kento sighed once again, ready for the bickering battle that was set to start between the two, but to his surprise, Satoru kept quiet about the remark.

He rubbed the back of his neck, almost hesitating to say whatever he wanted to say, and the Nanami’s frowned at his behaviour.

“Alright I think it’ll be easier if I show you”, he finally spoke, and took a long step to the left.

Behind him, a little boy stood. His black hair was a mess, almost covering his eyes, and he was wearing no more than a t-shirt to cover his upper body from the night’s cold.

He looked up at Kento, a serious expression on his face, and then at Suki. He didn’t say a word, and simply looked back down.

Gojo laughed nervously at the silence, watching Kento’s horrified expression contrasting with his twin sister’s curious one.

“It’ll all make sense if you let me-“.

Slam.

Before he could even finish, the door was closed in his face, and both him and the kid gasped at the yelling that came from behind.

“I’m going to call Yaga”.

“Ken stop! Don’t you think that if he could have brought him to Yaga, he wouldn’t have already?! You didn’t even let him explain himself!”.

“Because there’s no good explanation to Gojo Satoru appearing at our house, in the night, with a child! What explanation do you need?!”.

It was a little funny, honestly, to hear Kento lose his temper. Yelling and yelling about how even opening the door had been a bad idea. He should’ve seen it coming, one of Gojo’s terrible ideas.

A sneeze silenced the argument, and Gojo looked down at the kid, who cleaned his nose with the end of Satoru’s sweatshirt.

“Hey, don’t-“.

Again, he was interrupted by the door, this time as it opened, to reveal just the Nanami girl. She sighed deeply, and crouched down in front of the child, giving him a small smile.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?”, she asked softly, hands covered in the sleeves of her clothes, as she rubbed the boy’s naked arms.

The kid nodded hesitantly, looking up at the boy, and Satoru shrugged, walking in as Suki got up and signaled them to.

The girl closed the door behind them, and walked through the dark corridor, coming back a few minutes later with a small Hello Kitty jumper. It was made of white wool, with a small patch of the cat’s face in the middle of the chest.

The boy put it on without looking much at it, covering his cold arms and body with it, and Suki gave Gojo an annoyed look, like lecturing him with her eyes.

They had met a few years ago, when Satoru was a second year and they got accepted in the school. Kento and him were nothing alike, and quite a strange pair, but Suki was much more extroverted and easy going, always replying to Gojo’s remarks with even smarter ones.

They had all grown into each other, as much as the Nanami boy wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“It’s itchy”.

Suki stopped sending angry glares to Satoru to look down at the kid, who kept his sight on his shoes as he scratched his neck. The girl ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“I think what you meant to say there is ‘thank you, Nanami-san’. It’s the only one I have that is your size, kid”, she spoke, and her eyes opened wide as she heard the kid’s stomach growl, “Are you hungry?”.

The kid didn’t reply, he simply nodded his head slowly, and the girl looked up at Satoru again.

“Care to explain, Gojo?”.

n/a. leave some feedback guys i havent written in so long and i am: scared. I AM BEGGING U I NEED EXTERNAL APPROVAL.

— lulu.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji itadori x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #inumaki x reader #yuuta okkotsu #toji x reader #sivisamari.lulu #dad satoru #dad gojo #son megumi #toji fushiguro #gojo x reader #satoru x reader

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channoticedmeuwu · 3 years

Text

p : mark × fem!reader | g : humor more like straight up on drugs, slight fluff, bestfriend!mark, fantasy!au, magic!au | w : none but mentions of food

a/n : inspired by the bee that bumped into kissed me on my chin I love u you wholesome little dizzy fuzzball also pls cut me some slack idk what this is either

— [16 : 19 HRS] "yo, y/n!"

y/n snapped her head around, looking up from the jam she was spreading on her sweet bread. She had crossed her legs on the grass, the skirt of her silk white dress was draped over her knees like a blanket. The leaves in the trees were whispering as the cool summer breeze flowed through them, the birds rested in their nests among the branches. Fish leaped in the small river nearby, glistening under the sunlight, their scales glowing rainbow.

She looked around the enchanted forest, wondering who could be calling her name when there was no one in sight but her.

"y/n! y/n!"

confused, she put the sandwich on the picnic basket. "who are you?"

"look down, y/n!"

"huh?"

there, on her knees, sat a small bee, rubbing it's wings. The bee made a wheezing noise before flying up to her nose. "it's me, y/n!"

y/n blinked, baffled, "....mark!?" she held a finger out for him to rest on. "what in hades name happened?"

"so, uh," the bee wheezed again, trying to make a safe landing on the tip of her finger, "I may or may not have eaten hyuck's magic jam....and it turned me into this!"

"mark!" y/n sighed, conflicted if she should laugh or not, "how many times do I have to tell you? Don't go near hyuck's prototypes!"

"I'm sorry, it looked delicious! Plum flavoured, who can resist that?"

"let's go," she said, sighing and standing to her feet, "we need to get you back to normal."

"yes, of course! but, uh, first," he said, buzzing in the air, "can I sit on the daisies you have in your hair? They look really pretty."

y/n looked down to the flowers braided in her caramel hair, and hummed, her lips breaking out into a defeated smile.

"what am I going to do with you, bee boy?" she asked, letting him settle down before walking again. mark continued wheezing, still trying to get used to the now huge pollen molecules, stuck on his small, furry body.

"you like jazz, y/n?"

main taglist (hmu to get added!) : @heephoria @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny @yunntext @neotism @bluejaem @radiorenjun @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @coffeevddict @mrkcore @imdamnconfused @sicluvz @hyuckefi @morkiest @isaac-newton-catboy @cafe-jeno

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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gh4sts · 3 years

Text

public tease - k. h.

a/n: this is my first story ig idk what it’s called but pls give me feedback and let me know if u enjoyed it !

“i think you’re overthinking, my love.” kakashi stared at you as you stared at yourself in the mirror, currently trying on a dress.

you glanced at him through the mirror and looked back at your body. “you don’t think this dress is too tight?” you questioned.

“baby, it’s tight but in all the right places. don’t even worry.” he answered, a small smirk on his face as he scanned your body.

you turned around to face him and glared at him. “not the time, ‘kashi” you pushed past him into the dressing room stall to get changed into your clothes.

you heard kakashi groan from outside the stall. “you know y/n, it’s really hard being with you when we’re in public. it’s really hard to contain myself” he whined.

you finished dressing and stepped out of the stall. “that sounds like a you problem.” you said, approaching him and poking his chest before walking out the dressing room as kakashi followed behind.

you two decided to stroll around the mall some more and you stayed quiet as you thought. “he gets riled up while in public with me huh…”

“what’s with that smile, y/n?” kakashis voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you shook your head, looking up at him as he looked back down at you with a questioning look.

“oh it’s nothing.” you answered, looking straight again. he narrowed his eyes suspiciously but dismissed it.

“hmm then, what would you like to do?” he asked, grabbing your hand.

“well, i was thinking of looking at underwear sets in victoria secret.” you replied, glancing at his face which had a small blush after hearing your answer.

“oh w-well… sure baby whatever you need.” he spoke, giving you a smile. you smiled back and you two found a mall map, finding the store, and making your way towards it.

kakashi was a blushing mess. everywhere he looked, underwear and bras on mannequins or set on display. of course you noticed, taking in his flushed state.

you noticed a cute set and grabbed it. looking back over at kakashi, you tapped his shoulder causing him to jump and look over at you.

“i’m thinking of trying this on. would you like to come with me?” you asked him, giving him your best innocent smile. he blinked a few times and then gave you a nod, blushing yet again as he noticed the set.

you grabbed ahold of his hand and led him into the dressing room which was just the size of a walk in closet. kakashi sat down in a chair in the corner and tried to not make it obvious as he watched as you undressed.

you kept yourself from laughing as you began to undress, definitely giving him a show. you just wanted to see how far you could get with this, of course.

you slowly pulled your jeans and underwear down your legs and stepped out from them. then you began with your shirt, taking it off as well.

“oh kakashi, could you help me with my bra, i swear it’s so annoying.” you fake complained, knowing damn well you could take that bra off in a flash.

he gulped and nodded, standing up and taking a few steps towards you. you felt his hands grab ahold of the straps of your bra gently and unclasp them.

“why thank you ka- ?!” your sentence was cut off as kakashi pinned you up against the wall roughly.

you felt his bulge on your bare ass and you shivered. he growled in your ear. “do you think i’m stupid, love?”

“n-no..” you replied quietly, you felt your face warm up. this was definitely not what you were thinking was going to happen.

“do you think i wouldn’t notice you trying to turn me on? such a slut.” kakashi bit down on your neck and you let out a surprised moan, quickly clasping your hand over your mouth to not let any noise out.

kakashi licked the spot that he had just bit and whispered in your ear. “keep that hand over your mouth,” he chuckled and added on. “well, i don’t even think your hand is going to contain your screams.”

PHEWW i’m so sorry i didn’t do full nsfw i’m not that confident yet this was just a tease i’m sorry but pls give me feedback as i mentioned at the beginning i’m new to tumblr so i need the help i can get! thank u for reading!

~ j. <3

#kakashi hakate #kakashi x you #naruto x reader #naruto #kakashi #kakashi x reader #naruto oneshot #kakashi imagines #kakashi fanfiction #anime #oneshot #imagines

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

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silent confessions

request from nonnie! “Hey erica! I have a request for you, it's a bit challenging i think but I'm sure you'll do perfectly. Imagine like, the fake dating trope with fred, BUT at the end it's a george x reader? Like, imagine george feeling uncomfortable and jealous seeing the reader and fred acting like a couple even though he knows its not real and stuff anyway im obsessed with your writing love you bye”

pairing: fred x reader, george x reader

word count: 3.8k

A/N: wait, i loved this request. so different from the normal fake dating tropes! i hope this lived up to expectations.. idk why i just feel like my writing sort of sucks in this?? wah, idk, sad, feedback pls? also we’ve got some POV changes in this but they’re pointed out ayyyee, thanks for enduring the fluffiest fluff ever bc that’s all i have to give you hooligans

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan

You

You could practically hear the smirk that grew on his face — he wasn’t exactly being subtle. He took his place next to you in the Great Hall, ignored the fact that you were removing spellbooks and quills from your bag to begin your work, and didn’t bother to heed Snape’s warning glance.

“Hey, Y/N?”

Fred’s voice was a little too sweet for your liking; sweet as sugar, in fact. You knew this voice. It’s the voice he always put on whenever he needed a favor — whenever he wanted something from you. You didn’t look up from the table.

“Whatever it is, I think I’m going to pass.”

He scoffed and closed your spellbook. You grunted in annoyance; you were positive he wasn’t going down without a fight, but you supposed you still needed to try, even though you knew in your heart that this was a fight you wouldn’t win. You turned toward him and he batted his eyelashes at you.

“Dear, dear Y/N — you won’t pass when I tell you what’s in it for you.”

“What type of chaotic mischief that you have planned could possibly be beneficial to me?”

He digested this; you were right, and he knew it. He just shrugged, though, took in your rejection and tried to use it to his advantage.

He nodded across to the other end of the Gryffindor table; there sat Angelina Johnson — fellow Gryffindor, member of the DA, Quidditch captain and, to your most recent knowledge, Fred Weasley’s crush. Again. Boy was crazy about her.

“Thought we already tried this, Freddie?” you sighed, stealing your spellbook back from his very tight grasp and opening it to your desired page. He huffed a bit, and you were quite sure he was remembering the disaster that was the Yule Ball, just a year ago.

You noticed a small grin lift his cheeks; he looked rather smug now, which made you worried. What was it, exactly, that he had planned? “I know last year didn’t go exactly as I’d hoped.” Right. Fred had gotten a little too sloppy on his date with Angelina. She’d been a bit turned off. The night ended and she never pursued anything else; he was so embarrassed, neither did he. Fred Weasley? Embarrassed? The word wasn’t even in his day to day vernacular. But boy, was he shook.

“But it was a long time ago — besides, she’s been sending me all types of signals.”

“I don’t think her eye rolls mean she fancies you, Fred.”

He jabbed you playfully in the ribs. “Don’t be rude, Y/N. I know she fancies me. I just know it. You don’t go on just one date with Fred Weasley.”

You scoffed at his air of egotistical confidence; you shut your eyes at the prospect of him maybe going to someone else for help. Much to your dismay, it didn’t happen. He just stayed where he was, resting his chin on his hand, peering at you longingly as if his staring alone would convince you to say yes to whatever he had up his sleeve. After a few minutes, you said, “If I agree to help you, you prat, will you leave me alone?”

“Can’t say leaving you alone would exactly work with what I’ve got planned,” he replied, relaxing now, tapping his foot underneath the table and not taking his eyes off of Angelina. “I need you to pretend to date me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Relax, Y/N, I’m not going to pin you against the wall and snog you, if that’s what you’re so worried about,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair. You felt as though your throat was closing up at the mere thought of it. “Just some hand holding, things of the like. Need to make her jealous. Need to make her realize what she’s missing.”

You groaned in frustration. “Can I take back what I said?”

“Nope,” he answered brightly. “You can’t. Thanks for coming along for the ride. Don’t get in too deep, though. No falling in love with me, alright?”

You felt a pang in your chest; you weren’t in love with him and you never would be. He was your best friend and nothing would change that. You knew it and so did he. You felt worried, though. What would others think? What if Angelina did get jealous — but in a bad way? Or worse — what would George say?

His was the only opinion that mattered to you, truthfully.

So that’s how you came to be Fred Weasley’s “girlfriend”, and when you both finally told George what Fred had strategically planned, you were relieved and also a bit upset at how nonchalant he seemed; a small grin tugged at the edges of his lips which sent you into a tizzy. You tried your very hardest to hide your disappointment; you didn’t want to let on how absolutely mad you were for him. So, you supposed, when you thought about this ridiculous stunt one night in your four poster, fake dating Fred would certainly squash any and all suspicions George had (if he did) about you fancying him.

“How’s my favorite couple?” he’d asked teasingly one day in the middle of the common room, sinking into the couch on the other side of you. Angelina then popped in through the portrait hole, and Fred placed his hand on your knee, stroking it absentmindedly. You felt a dull ache in your heart when you saw George’s eyes dart toward Fred’s hand.

Angelina had done the exact same thing; you were able to see a very faint shade of pink flush her cheeks before she stormed upstairs to her dormitory without a word to any of you. Fred immediately dropped his hand and you felt your muscles relax, but not without a quick squeeze to your knee and a cheeky grin. “Brilliant, Y/N,” he said, earning himself a dull grunt from you. Not that you’d done much, or anything, for that matter. But still, your heart felt sore at the thought: you wanted, more than anything, for George to reach over and gently graze your knee, pull you into him, kiss your temple as Fred had been doing the last few weeks.

The dull ache in your heart just seemed to grow stronger.

George

“Help me!”

You frowned. “I’m already in the middle of the other favor your lovely brother asked me to do,” you told him with a slight twinge of annoyance to your voice; however, it wasn’t difficult for him to detect a bit of cheekiness, too — especially when he saw the slight grin that spread itself across your lips.

“I just need some help with this stupid Potions essay.”

George noticed you soften at his request; he supposed it wasn’t as time-consuming as pretending to be someone’s girlfriend, and was rather elated when you agreed. You pulled out your desired books from the shelves in front of you and pointed at an empty table in one of the rows. “Let’s get started then, Georgie.”

But the truth was, he didn’t really need help. He was actually doing surprisingly well in Potions, for the first time since he began at Hogwarts. He didn’t want to let it get to his head, though. He figured there wasn’t anything wrong with getting some extra assistance.

It wasn’t assistance that he yearned for, though — it was you. More importantly, time spent with you. Any time — which he found himself getting hardly any now that you were “dating” his brother. He was first impressed at the idea that you’d decided to help Fred with his ridiculous request, and spent most of the time hanging around you teasing you and taunting you mercilessly for it, earning himself adorable laughs and flustered looks in return. But now, as he watched Fred press featherlight kisses to your temple and snake his arm around your waist at every given moment, all he felt was resentment. Jealousy. Hurt.

He felt himself feeling guilty; he shouldn’t be allowed to feel any of those things, because Fred didn’t know. Nobody knew. Nobody knew how he felt about you. Also, this whole stupid thing was just a ploy, anyway. So he suppressed those feelings everyday until he ended up alone in his dorm room, where he’d kick his trunk and scream into a muffled pillow while he let his brain unwind and digest the day's events.

“Ah — work here is finished,” he said after a few hours in the library. Much needed hours, in fact. He watched as you slowly placed your spellbooks back into your bag. “Thanks for your help.”

And in between those bouts of jealousy and resentment came moments of clarity, moments of affection, overwhelming feelings of admiration toward you. “For you?” you started, a gentle smile on your lips as you placed a hand to his knee, “Anything.”

You

You woke up before the sun and groaned; it was Saturday. Four Saturdays, in fact, since Fred had asked you to embark on this silly endeavor with him. Three Saturdays since you’d begun wondering when this would finally be over. Two Saturdays since Fred had told you sooner rather than later. One Saturday since George had noticeably become off balance.

You felt a pull at your heart when you popped through the portrait hole with Fred and Ginny later that evening after a much needed trip into Hogsmeade; you chewed nervously on the sugar quill you’d purchased as you placed yourself next to the roaring fire, Fred taking a seat next to you on the couch when Ginny made her way to the girls dormitory.

You didn’t know where George was; he hadn’t come to Hogsmeade. Or maybe he did, and he’d just very successfully avoided you both as you ended up, hand-in-hand, wherever Angelina was. With the exception of a few measly youngins on the other end of the common room, you and Fred were alone.

“Freddie?”

“Hm?”

“I really need to talk with you.”

He looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet he had clutched in his hands. He furrowed his brow and placed the paper on the table in front of him, criss-crossing his legs and peering at you longingly. Then he turned cheeky and wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Must be important,”

You cleared your throat and felt your heart thundering against your ribcage.

You opened your mouth to speak and closed it just the same. You didn’t really know how to ask what you wanted to — to tell him what you wanted to. So instead, you opted for, “How much longer d’you think this is going to last?”

“I dunno — a few days, or so. Why?” He raised his eyebrows. “Sick of me already?”

“Ha-ha,” you replied sarcastically, jabbing him in the chest. “I just — I’m a bit worried —” you broke off and let your mind wander for a moment. You thought about truthfully telling Fred how you felt. Guilty. Upset. Lonely. In love with someone who didn’t seem to notice. Worried he’d find someone else. “I just hope Angelina isn’t getting the wrong idea.”

Fred digested this. “How d’you mean?”

“Well, you want her to run to you in a fit of jealous fury, right?” he nodded curtly, taking this in. “I just hope she doesn’t see us together and instead, turns the other cheek. Looks the other way. Finds somebody else. You know?” But it wasn’t Angelina you were worried about.

Fred thought about this for a moment. You watched as his cheeky expression turned rather stoic, and then a bit grim. “I never thought of it that way.”

Suddenly, you felt extremely worried. You started, “No, no, you know what? I’m being silly — she wouldn’t, because she’s absolutely mad for you, too. Just forget I said anything, okay? I reckon she’ll be round to snatch you right out of my hands this week.” You laughed, but it felt foreign in your mouth. Fred noticed.

“Y/N,” his voice suddenly sounded a lot less like his own — more concerned. “What’s going on?”

Just then, George popped through the portrait hole with Ron, Harry, and Neville. You met his gaze and let it linger for a few long moments. He then smiled brightly, as if he hadn’t been acting strange this entire past week. With a quick wave to you both, ignoring Fred’s motion to come and sit down, he made his way straight up to the boys dormitory. Fred shot you a glance, and you answered his previous question.

“Nothing, Fred,” you sighed, silencing him before he could ask you if you knew what was up with his twin. You hated how painfully true your next words were. “There’s absolutely nothing going on.”

George

George was outside in the courtyard with Ron, Harry, and Ginny. He’d been doing his best to avoid you and Fred at all costs, which was pretty hard when you were his best friend and Fred was his twin. But he tried.

He found himself growing incredibly uncomfortable around you both; the sheer sight of Fred slinging an arm around your waist, intertwining his fingers with yours, calling you his “love” — it sent George spiraling. He didn’t want Fred doing those things. In fact, he didn’t want anyone doing those things. Only him. He wanted you to be his love.

“Georgie?”

You took him by surprise in the courtyard; the others were immersed in a conversation about bets, or something. He, though, was peering up at you, doing his very best to not look as bloody nervous as he felt.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer; you pulled him to his feet and immediately brought him back into the castle. You found an empty classroom and sat yourself down on a desk across from him. He had to resist the urge to spill his guts, tell you everything, grab your face in his hands and confess his unwavering love for you.

So instead, he opted for a generic, “What’s up?”

“I’m not sure..” you started timidly. He could see the shyness in your eyes and he didn’t like it one bit. You? Shy around him? You’d never been. He hated that this is where it had gotten too. “Are you mad at me?”

He was very much taken aback at your forward question; way to cushion the blow. He swallowed a few times, trying very desperately to dislodge the lump that appeared in his throat and hoped to Merlin that he could fool you. “Mad? Of course not. Why would I be?”

You crossed your arms, now looking a bit angered. George felt his insides constrict. “We haven’t spoken in days.”

“I’ve just — been busy,” George lied. His jaw tightened. “Assignments, and things. Detention. You know,” he winked, trying to lighten the mood, “the usual.”

You smiled back, though it was a broken sort of smile. Lonely. It took everything in him not to lean over and kiss it right off of your mouth. “Are you sure? You’d tell me if anything was wrong, right?” He swore he heard more than yearning in your voice; he scolded himself silently for being dishonest. Was your voice breaking? “You’re my best friend.”

Inside his pockets, he clenched his fists. He was going to go for it. Who cared about Angelina? Fred could get her without this ridiculous bloody stunt of his. And George needed to tell you before you fell for his twin, for real, and the both of you ended up heartbroken. He stepped forward, but before he could do or say anything, you slung your arms around his shoulders and squeezed him tight. He felt revitalized at your embrace, like he was reentering his body after having been off balance for months. His fingertips found your hips and he focused solely on the smell of your shampoo, the feeling of your body pressed tightly against him. When you both parted, he took your hands in his. He wet his lips and took a steady deep breath. “Honestly?”

“Darling!”

Fred’s voice, much to George’s dismay, came from the classroom door. Damnit. How had he found you both? The door was closed! Frustration, anger, and gloom raced through George’s body; he was about two bloody seconds away from decking his brother for interrupting. But he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. Fred didn’t know. George sighed through gritted teeth, let your hands fall out of his, and backed away slowly.

“”C’mon, love, we’ve got dinner,” Fred called, sounding much happier than George would’ve liked. To him, Fred said, “you coming, mate?”

“Be there in a minute, Freddie.”

Fred grinned brightly and left you both standing in the middle of the classroom, the tension still hanging in the air. You turned back from the door, a solemn sort of look on your face, and asked him, “What were you going to say?”

“Oh,” George’s voice got caught in his throat, “just — been a little stressed. Knackered from class more often than not. Reckon I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

You frowned. He knew that you were aware not to press on; that was all the information he was going to give. You took a deep breath. “As long as we’re okay?”

“Of course we are.”

“Okay,” you said. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m famished. Let’s go eat.”

You

“Did I do something wrong?”

Fred was standing across from you in the common room, arms crossed, shoulders back, and a smirk growing on his face. He laughed at your nervousness. He’d just told you that things were over between you both. You’d asked, of course, just to be courteous. But you were actually pretty bloody excited. “Of course not, Y/N. You’ve done quite the opposite, actually.”

“Meaning?”

Fred walked over to you and placed his hands on both of your shoulders. He wet his lips before a huge, cheeky grin swept itself across his face. He squeezed you. “Angelina cornered me this morning.”

You raised your eyebrows. You were suddenly feeling much more invigorated. You grabbed his face out of pure excitement and shook him. “And? Keep bloody on, would you?!”

He threw his head back and laughed haughtily now. “Haven’t seen you this excited since before we began this,”

“Sorry,” you calmed down and frowned a bit. “Reckon I haven’t been the greatest “girlfriend”...”

A soft smile found its way across Fred’s cheeks. You furrowed your brows in confusion, hoping that he was going to tell you that he and Angelina were finally, wonderfully, officially together, which meant that you and Fred didn’t need to be. But he caught you completely off guard and said, “Don’t blame yourself too much. I reckon it’d be difficult to pretend to date me, especially when you’re in love with someone else.”

You were certain that your heart had jumped directly into your throat; your entire body went rigid at his words. He knew? Who else knew? Did George? Did everyone? “I don’t.. know what you’re on about, Freddie.”

“Merlin, you are being thick today,” he teased, pulling at your hair and shaking his head. “C’mon. You think I didn’t notice? Each time I’d drop your hand, or unwind my arm from your waist, I saw you steal glances at him.” Fred leaned in to get closer to you and you noticed a light shade of pink wash over his cheeks. Had you been silently confessing your love for George this entire time? “He was stealing them right back, you know.”

You swallowed thickly. Did Fred know more than he was letting on? Where was George? “He was?”

“He’s in the Great Hall.” It was evident to you that Angelina was watching from the other end of the common room, and she was smiling brightly. No doubt, Fred had told her everything. You turned back toward Fred and grinned nervously. He took your hands in his and squeezed them. He simply said, “Go get him already, would you?”

And as quickly as your feet could carry you, you ran swiftly down the staircases, through the corridors, into the Great Hall and all the way to the front, where George was sitting, pouring over a bit of parchment, looking positively ghastly. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins like fire; your cheeks felt hot and flushed and each and every muscle in your body ached from running so bloody fast. “Ah,” he said brightly at the sight of you. “Come here to help me, have you? This assignment is a right load —”

You cut him off, ignored this completely and pulled him to his feet; he peered down at you with a confused expression and opened his mouth to speak, but you cupped his face in your hands, pulled him forward, and kissed him. The muffled moan that escaped his lips gave you your answer — he was certainly shocked. However, it didn’t take him long to melt into it; he was kissing you as though he’d never kissed anyone in his life, like the pure feeling of your lips moulding together with his was the very oxygen pumping through his lungs at that very moment. His hands were tangled in your robes, but he eventually found himself stroking your spine delicately with his fingers, earning himself slight whines from you as he laughed cheekily against your lips. From behind you somewhere, someone said, “Hey Y/N, you do know that’s the wrong twin you’re snogging, right?”

“Oi, shove off, Finnegan!” you called, parting from George only for a moment. “I know which twin it is!”

You turned back toward George and the two of you let out a bit of relieved laughter, limbs still entangled together. “I’ve got a confession to make,” he began, biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from pouncing on you, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Yeah?” you asked, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

“Pretty difficult to do anything about it when you’ve been dating my brother the last month or so,”

“You’re right,” you told him, pulling a bit on his tie, “but I’m pretty sure he broke down and told Angelina everything.”

George raised his eyebrows at you in surprise. You continued, “Pretty sure he got sick of me being a mopey “girlfriend” because all I wanted to do was be with you instead.”

His sweet smile turned rather sensual. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s so,” you told him straightforwardly, running your hands through his very messy red hair.

Somewhere in the distance, over the sea of people watching you both, Seamus Finnegan shouted, “Wait, has it always been George?”

George actually snorted a bit at this; then he bit down on his lip again, wiggled his eyebrows at you, and asked, “Well — has it?”

You didn’t break your gaze, though; instead, you let your eyes linger on George’s for much longer than you normally would. You were pretty sure that you could hear the steady thumping of his heart against his ribcage, and his eyes washing over you like a cool tide completely sent you into overdrive. Suddenly, you were feeling much more confident than normal. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at you. “Yeah,” you said to George, pressing your lips to his once more, “it’s always been you.”

reblogs, comments, feedback, and all of the above are always appreciated!

#george weasley #fred weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #fred weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #hp imagine #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #my writing

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years

Text

perfect fit {ransom drysdale x fem!reader}

status — completed

warnings — cursing, unprotected penetrative sex (pls be safe when havinf sex), mirror sex, semi-public sex, degradation (slight), oral sex (female receiving), mentions of blood and being poked (briefly and not detailed)

word count — 3,370 words

a/n — lmao i have no shame i got inspired to write this because of an something i listened to which had a similar premise. i had a sequel in mind but idk if im gonna write that since i have a lot of fics planned out. feedback is appreciated and hope u guys have a lovely day !! :>

masterlist

It was something no one expected Ransom to do; but he did it anyway.

He was just lounging in his home one day and he took one of the many notebooks he had lying around and suddenly found himself sketching different clothing articles. By the time he was able to tear his focus and hands away from the notebook, it was already 11:45 at night, “Huh, so in the past five hours I was able to design 11 clothes,” he quietly thought to himself as he closed the notebook that contained his ideas and headed to bed.

The following day consisted mostly of doing two things; more designing and making calls. He was looking for possible suppliers who could give him the materials he needed in order to bring his designs to life. He also ordered his assistant to look for tailors who were willing to sew and stitch them to life, as he did not have any intentions on making those himself. Searching for a place to lease to station where the clothes would be made and sold was also something he did.

All of that happened almost 19 months ago; Ransom just suddenly had the idea of creating his own clothing line and he was successful in that endeavor. His brand was known for its eloquent and classy designs, while still being comfortable and affordable. It was also a bonus that the materials they used were cruelty-free and vegan; though this wasn’t really his idea, something his assistant had suggested and something he mindlessly agreed with as he was burying himself in designing a dress.

When his family found out about his current endeavor, there were various reactions in response. Joni seemed to be legitimately excited to see if Ransom’s design would match her taste and even told him how she was willing to post about his line on her Instagram. Meg and Walt finally had something in common as they both teased him and questioned his sexuality since he suddenly became interested in fashion; even his own father silently had the same thoughts and concerns. His mother, however, was somewhat proud of her son following in her footsteps and making a name for himself. While Harlan was surprised on how he was persistent in pursuing fashion, for he always thought that his first grandson would be his successor in terms of writing and in handling the publishing company.

Ransom, having had enough of their judgmental comments and half-assed support, snapped at them once he broke the news as they were enjoying dessert, “Alright, all of you, eat shit! No offense, Mom, but you had a loan from Granddad and without his money you’d be nowhere! Joni, cut the shit! We all know you rely on those brand deals you have and of course, on our family’s money. And Walt? At least I’m gonna make something of my own! Unlike you who just relies heavily on the books Granddad gives you to publish. And what the fuck does fashion have to do with one’s sexuality? If clothes make people gay then why are you wearing that sorry excuse of an outfit? Scared people might find your dick too small?”

And with that, he left the house as a sea of screams and commotion followed him, but he chose to ignore it of course.

In the span of those 19 months, his clothing line took off. Critics spoke highly of it, consumers couldn't get enough of his designs, and he was being constantly praised for his creativity. So it made Ransom feel as if he was on top of the world.

After his designs being featured on various fashion shows and being worn by numerous celebrities, the pressure to put out equally great designs was taking a toll on Ransom. Hence why he often spends time on the main store and headquarters he had in Boston. The place was fairly spacious — it had an office for where he could have meetings or design some of his clothes, a spacious and luxurious space for the customers to try on the clothes, rows of sewing machine next to an array of cloth for the workers whom he fairly compensated for their hard work, and even a small circular platform placed in front of mirrors for alterations.

Ransom advised his staff to go home early to enjoy the start of the weekend and he would be the one to close the store and balance what they had already sold and what was left. As he was busy in the counter checking the log and counting the money, he heard the chimes of the bell that hung above the door make a sound, directing his attention to where a lovely woman stepped into the store and it felt as if all the oxygen in his body left his body with how breathtaking the woman was.

“We’re about to close in a few minutes,” was all he managed to let out as the woman stood on the opposite side of the counter; she just smiled as she placed the gown wrapped in plastic down on the counter, “Oh? I’m so sorry but I was just wondering if I can have this gown altered? I bought it hastily last week and only got to try it on two days ago since I was incredibly busy with work and realized how loose it was on me.”

He looked down on the gown as he spoke, “Yeah well we close earlier on Fridays so,” prolonging the word so, he noticed how she moved as if she was about to exit the establishment, but he wondered, “What is the work you do that kept you busy?”

The question surprised both of them; Ransom didn’t know as to why he was curious about it, but it probably had to do with how he just wanted an excuse to talk to her and listen to her soothing voice. While Y/N didn’t realize that those were one of the requirements in order to have a dress altered, she told him anyway what kept her busy.

Nodding his head, he made an impulsive decision, “My assistants just left, but I can take care of it. It shouldn’t be a big problem” Her eyes lit up excitedly and she smiled widely and thanked him for being able to accommodate her. “Just go to one of the dressing rooms and change to the gown, and head to where the platform is — just right across, okay?” She nodded and followed to where his hands pointed to where he’d be waiting for her.

As she scurried off to the change, he found himself questioning himself as he switched off the open sign, grabbed a notebook, pen, and measuring tape, and waited for her to come out. Why the hell am I making such an effort for her? And when she did step out of the dressing room and made her way to step on the circular elevated platform, he remembered just why he was going out of his way to serve her; because she looked fucking gorgeous, especially seeing her wear a gown he designed.

Standing on the platform, she shyly looked at him to which he found adorable, “Why don’t you spin around slowly for me?” She nodded and did so, “What seems to be the problem with the gown?”

With her back facing him, she craned her neck and replied, “I found the length to be too long, I’m afraid I might trip on it,” as she faced him he noticed how he was standing dangerously close, and his facial features were dead serious, “So you just want to trim it a bit?”

She nodded, “Would it be possible to create a slit?” And just as she made that suggestion, she bunched up a bit of the gown and showed him how she wanted the slit to look like; but all it did to Ransom was make him drool with how luscious and soft her legs looked like. “Okay, yeah that’s something we can do.”

Grabbing a small container full of sewing pins he took hold of the bunched up fabric she held in her hand and told her he got it. “You know when I designed these gowns, you were exactly the target buyers I had in mind,” she tilted her to the side, confused with what he meant so he further explained, “Gorgeous, elegant, and absolutely stunning; especially once they wear my clothes.”

Her cheeks suddenly became a dark shade of red as she tried to shrug off his compliment, “Well I don’t really wear these kinds of clothes, but when a wedding comes, you have to.” As he was placing the pins on the fabrics, he looked up from where he was sitting on the platform, him being eye level with her thigh was doing nothing to prevent him from nursing a hard on, “A wedding you say?”

Snatching a glance from where her hands rested on her hips to get out of his way, he took note of the lack of ring and voiced out his observation, “I’m not seeing any ring on both your hands, so I’m gonna assume that you’re not the bride?” She laughed softly and shook her head, “No, I'm not the bride-to-be, my best friend is.”

“Good to know,” Ransom said softly and she didn’t hear it well and was about to question what he just said as she felt the sewing pins poke her skin. “Ow, fuck!” She yelped, which made the designer realize that instead of piercing through the dress, he accidently lightly grazed her leg. “Fuck, I’m sorry!” He apologized as he pulled the pin and wiped her upper thigh that started to bleed a little.

Feeling his warm hand envelope her hand and the thumb swiping away the crimson liquid, made her feel tingly as she looked down on him. Inching his face closer to her thigh, he looked up at her as his lips touched the area that he unintentionally hurt her in, “I’m so sorry for hurting you,” Y/N was stunned as his lips were back on her thigh after apologizing.

Breathlessly, she just nodded and was surprised both his hands took a hold of her ankles and were softly caressing her just like how his lips were being gentle with her flesh. As his hands were sliding up towards her shins, she could feel the goosebumps on her skin rise, and by the time they reached her thighs, that was the only time Ransom detached his lips from her skin, “You taste divine, baby girl. But I’m not done with making it up to you.”

Having a sudden surge of confidence, Y/N spoke out, “Then keep kissing me if you want to make it up to me.” Ransom too, was surprised because this meek-looking beauty demanded him to do something, “I beg your pardon?” It was her turn to be brave and brazen as she smirked down on him, “Keep on kissing my thighs or else I’ll leave a bad review of your services.”

Quickly, Ransom placed his lips back on her thigh, kissing and smooching every inch he could find; he wasn’t sure if he was threatened with how his business could be negatively affected or was he just turned out at the prospect of being told by this beautiful woman to keep on admiring her figure.

Tangling her fingers on his hair, she tugged at him and guided her where she wanted his mouth as he gave verbal directions, “Higher, baby, kiss me higher.” Though his eyes were darkened with pleasure of having to know what her skin tastes like and aroused with how he met someone who was able to tell her what she wants and bosses him around; he’s never had someone do that to him, for it was always him calling the shots.

Poking his tongue out, he traced over the outline of her lace underwear which resulted in her letting out a moan and tightening her grip on his hair — urging him to keep going. Moving from her thigh, he kissed his way until he was face to face with the center of her pussy. Inhaling her scent, he closed his eyes as he groaned and took in her addictive scent and lunged forward to kiss and lick her clothed core. Even with the fabric in its way, he was nipping on her pussy lips and licking through it, getting a faint taste of her.

“Oh, more please,” she gasped out in pleasure; and with that plea Ransom moaned as he tore his mouth from where he was making out with her clit and smirked as she heard her sigh at the sudden loss of contact. Looking up at her, he gave her a grin as he asked, “Did you honestly think you would be the one who’ll call all the shots, baby?”

Somehow, her crimson red cheeks managed to turn into an even deeper shade of it at what he said. He then moved to pull her panties down her legs, he didn’t even wait for her to kick them out of her as he immediately licked from her clit down to her opening. Moaning out, she trembled a bit and Ransom’s hands latched themselves onto her thighs to help prevent her from falling.

“Careful now baby girl,” he warned her as he looked up to see her flushed face starting to drip with sweat, his lips never fully removing themselves from her clit so with every word he spoke the vibrations was felt throughout her core, “Wouldn’t want you to injure yourself. How are you gonna turn up to the wedding then?”

As he finished his question, his tongue pushed itself into her tight opening and swirled around inside. Feeling dainty fingers push his face further, he was able to get a better taste of her juices that began to drip down to his tongue and he hissed at how delectable they were. Pulling out his tongue from her pussy, he immediately licked his way up to her swollen clit, “You taste amazing, baby,” he moaned out as he focused his efforts into sucking her clit hard and fast, feeling her thighs began to shake — a sign that she was close to her orgasm.

But Ransom wouldn’t let her cum right away, his left hand left the warmth of her thigh and slapped her clit multiple times, she opened her eyes in shock and looked down on the designer, aroused and elated with what he did. Getting the hint that she enjoyed what he did he teased her by saying, “You like it when I slap that clit?” Seeing how she nodded and bit her lip, he went on and slapped her clit multiple times but with not a lot of force, and his tongue went on to caress her tight opening until she once again began to quiver.

“God you’re such a filthy slut,” he stated as he stopped the movements his tongue and hand were doing, and went on to bite lightly her thigh, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you. Have to make sure my customer leaves this place satisfied with my services.” As he mentioned the double entendre, his voice was laced with desire and hunger.

Giving her thigh one last kiss, he stood up from the platform and placed his hands on her hips and lifted her so she stood on the ground just like he was. Grabbing the back of her neck, he pushed her against him so their lips met and they began to hungrily make out. Her hands were at his cheeks, softly grazing his cheeks which contradicts how their tongues were roughly dancing with each other. While Ransom’s other hand was feeling for the zipper on her back, unzipping it and pushing the dress off of her.

Moving both his hands to touch her back, he noticed the lack of bra and felt how her nipples harden against the fabric of his shirt, he separated their lips from where they were entangled and looked down to see her breasts, “Such a nasty little girl you are, aren’t you? Wearing this gown with no bra underneath, like you wanted me to see just how good your boobs are.”

She shook her head, “The gown goes well best without a bra,” she defended. Amused with her reply Ransom decided that they’ve had enough foreplay; both his hands planted on her hips and pulled her back so it was flush against his front, “And you know what would go best with your divine body? My cock and cum,” one of his hands grabbed onto his cock and rubbed the tip of it against her folds, feeling her shudder at the sensation, “So come on and take it.”

“Shit baby girl, you’re so tight for a slut,” Ransom groaned as he threw his head back with how her walls squeezed his hard dick in one smooth motion. The hand that guided his cock in repositioned itself and held onto her hair, pulling her head back and arching her back away from his chest, which contrasted the way her ass was pushing back to accommodate Ransom’s cock.

Hand in her hair and the other on her hip, Ransom was pulling her into his cock with sharp, fast, and harsh thrusts; while her moans and whines did nothing but to fuel him to drive his thick meat deeper in her. “You like this don’t you, baby? You like how I’m just ramming into you like you’re nothing but a whore?” He taunted as he let go of her hip and began to rub, twist, and pull at her nipples.

Y/N could only nod, too blissed out to give out a verbal response for the way he was deliciously torturing her nipples disabled her from forming a coherent sentence, much less a thought. Unhappy with how she responded, he let go of her hair and slapped both her ass cheeks, “Answer me! Tell me you like it!”

She went still for a moment due to the sting of his slaps, she widened her eyes and peered over her shoulder to look at him, “I love it! I love how you’re treating me, sir.” The title she had given him made him even more feral as he ordered her, “Look in the mirror slut, look at how desperate you are for me.”

Feeling shy from seeing her blissed out state on the reflection, she instead diverted her gaze on the man behind her who was mercilessly pounding into her. She found it absolutely hot how his jaw was clenched so hard and his eyebrows were furrowed; it made her clench down on him hard which led to Ransom to slam deep inside her and grab onto her shoulders, “You’re close aren’t you, baby? You’re about to cum on my cock aren’t you?” She nodded and whined, “Yes, sir, I’m so close. Please let me cum,” he chuckled in appreciation, she begged him to cum without even telling her to do so.

Speeding up the pace of his thrusts, his one hand was now alternating with rubbing and pinching her clit, in order to get her right on the edge. His lips were resting against her ear, his pants were only turning her on even more and with a final pinch of his fingers, she was cumming hard and with a loud wail.

Feeling how her walls squeezed him too tight to the point he couldn’t move anymore, Ransom stilled inside her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, “Fuck, you feel good.” After a couple of breaths, Ransom collapsed to sit down on the platform, taking her with him. Sitting down, he took the time to steady his breaths and recover from the intensity of their intercourse and orgasm.

Snaking his hand to her cheek, he tilted her head enough for him to plant his lips on hers and let her give a faint taste of her own juices and he pulled apart from her not without planting a small kiss, “The gown will be ready in a week, baby. And it’s on me.”

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karajaynetoday · 4 years

Text

how to support your favourite creators on tumblr dot com

hello friends and welcome to unsolicited advice from karajaynetoday

here are 5 simple ways you can support your favourite creators on tumblr/the internet in general, whether they be writers, artists, incredible GIF makers and edit-creators, and everything else in between. I get so much joy out of tumblr content, so I’d thought I’d share some tips that I’ve gathered throughout ten years on this hellsite/safe haven lol

1. REBLOG THEIR CONTENT

go on, tell us how you really feel in the tags. no really, by sharing their original content (always reblog rather than re-post. NEVER re-post without permission or credit - you’ll see on the GIF I’ve used above Tumblr has added the credit to @ghostofmashton as the OG creator), you’re helping give their work more exposure, feedback and love, which is a lovely thing to do.

2. INTERACT AND GIVE FEEDBACK

Did you lose your mind over that blurb? have a meltdown (in a good way) over that GIFset?? Head on over to their ask box or the replies and let them know!! Giving feedback helps your fave creators figure out what kinds of things you like to read or see on their blog, so they can plan future content! With writing feedback in particular, I like to be specific - if there was a particular phrase or section that made me feel an emotion, I mention it; if there was a particular writing element that struck me (the character dynamics, the scene descriptions, the narrative structure, the fictional universe etc etc) I call that out. A lot of people have an anon option on their ask box if you feel more comfortable giving feedback that way! If creators post things and all it gets is likes but no feedback, it can feel a little bit like you’re screaming into the void!

3. RECOMMENDATIONS/REQUESTS/FINDING LOST CONTENT

Most creators will say in their bios or on their ask page if requests are open or closed - be sure to be respectful of this! But, did you read a fic or see an edit a while ago that you can’t remember the name or creator of? ASK SOMEONE! Are you in the mood to read a particular kind of vibe? ASK SOMEONE! The 5SOS community on tumblr is incredibly supportive and helpful when it comes to sharing recommendations, whether it’s through having a recommendations sideblog or fic recs tag (for example, I regularly check Lau @sexgodashton‘s rec tag for new pieces to read), responding to specific ask messages that request recommendations, or helping people find things they’re looking for (check out Crystal @kindahoping4forever for all your 5sos historian needs) so don’t be afraid to ask.

4. BE RESPECTFUL

yeah look this one is just a good general rule for life and everywhere you are on the internet but basically remember that there is a human on the other side of the screen. this is a safe space, and we can all engage in discourse and headcanons and whatnot, but don’t be a c*nt about it. if you don’t want to see a particular type of content, you can block tags. at the end of the day, the creator of the blog is in control of their own content, and if you don’t like it, unfollow them. if you think their content puts someone in danger or violates the tumblr community guidelines, you can report it. Jex @sadistmichael has some of the best NSFW writing on this site, and also some of the most reasonable opinions and responses to divisive discourse and I think this post of theirs sums it up:

a reminder that it’s okay to exist in the same fandom as someone that doesn’t have the same preferences or opinions that you do when it comes to a celebrity you don’t know <3 everyone does not have to think like you to be valid <3 as long as they are not encroaching on someone’s human rights and are in their lane you can unfollow them <3 having different opinions on things is a central part of being an adult in the real world <3

5. GIVE WHERE YOU CAN

okay now this is potentially the most controversial one?? maybe?? Idk, that’s why it’s last. obviously right now the world is on FIRE and a lot of people are struggling, so don’t feel pressure at all to do this if you can’t. it’s important to look after yourself first, especially during crazy times like 2020. however, personally I’ve been in a position recently where I’ve had a little spare money (that I would usually spend on my morning coffee in the office, or whatever, that I’m now not spending thanks to rona) and I’ve chosen to support a few of my favourite creators that have ko-fi pages with a small donation as a thank you for their work (@ everyone I follow who doesn’t have a ko-fi page pls make one so I can keep doing this!!! lol). The way I see it, I’d usually buy a book to read, pay for a netflix subscription to watch content, or things like that - so this is my way of repaying creators for delivering excellent content essentially for free in terms of $$$, but not really free if you think about the time and effort that they put into their creations. I know a lot of people pursue creative work for the love and passion they have for it, but everyone also has bills to pay - just because it’s fandom-based work, doesn’t mean it’s any less valuable than mainstream creative work you engage with. If the creators you want to support don’t have a ko-fi or similar, maybe see if you could commission them to do some work for an upcoming birthday or something like that! that being said, donating to support their work doesn't give you ownership or rights - just like buying a 5sos album doesn't. They're not at your beck and call to create and engage 24/7 - see point 4 about BEING RESPECTFUL 🙃🙃🙃

tl:dr: reblog, interact & give feedback, ask for recommendations and make requests, BE RESPECTFUL, give where you can.

thank you for coming to my TED talk <3

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #tumblr creators #fanfiction #ashton irwin imagine #calum hood imagine #luke hemmings imagine #michael clifford imagine #unsolicited advice

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junetuesday · 4 years

Text

sweetener - [twelve]

Tastes of Freedom

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader - uni AU

Word Count: 5913

Warnings: studying, exams, fluff, smut, food mentions

A/N: only a 7 week break between updates this time!! getting better!! maybe?? idk im sorry lmao. as always pls pls let me know what you think i literally live for comments and feedback even if its just a keysmash and some emojis!!

Add yourself to my taglist(s)

Updates: listen i am not in control of this don’t ask me

This is what happens when i’m left unsupervised

Tom laughed under his breath as he read the caption of your Snapchat - a picture of a pile of flashcards on your bed, a cup of tea in your hand in the bottom right corner of the image. He just replied with an eye roll emoji as he tossed his bag into the passenger seat of his car, setting his phone down on top of it before he started to drive home.

He’d gone to the gym in an effort to take his mind off revision, but he’d had to put his phone on airplane mode because he kept stopping to text you and not actually doing anything. Which, normally, he wouldn’t have minded, but he’d driven all the way there so it seemed a bit pointless if he was just going to go in, text while walking on the treadmill, and then go home. And besides, he hadn’t been exercising a lot lately, besides a run or two with Tessa over Christmas, and rugby training would be starting back up again soon so he figured he had better get back to it. Plus, he did actually enjoy it; it made him feel good about himself, stronger, more refreshed - physically and mentally, which was something he definitely needed after all this studying.

So, once he’d actually gotten into it he’d had a good workout, and was feeling pretty good. His first exam on Monday had gone well, and he only had one more to do on Friday morning. You were also halfway through, having sat your first paper that afternoon. You were supposed to be taking the evening off to give your brain a break before your next and final exam on Friday, just giving yourself a rest really. It didn’t seem to be going that well though, judging by the texts you’d been sending wondering if you shouldn’t just go over some flashcards or just read over your notes or just something, and without Tom replying telling you to just chill out you’d apparently decided to go with flashcards. Which was fine, if that was what you wanted to do, but you’d said quite a few times that you were going to take the evening after your first exam off so you didn’t overload your brain, so it seemed to Tom like studying flashcards wasn’t really how you wanted to spend your evening.

The thought played on his mind as he drove off campus, and he wondered if maybe your message was your way of asking for supervision. He could do that - plus, the protein shake he was drinking wasn’t really cutting it in terms of satiating his appetite, so perhaps he could convince you to get a takeaway or something. So, after a quick check in the mirror to see how sweaty he looked - not too bad, considering - he drove to your house instead of his own.

It occurred to him as he was hovering outside to your front door (after spraying himself liberally with the deodorant he kept in his gym bag) that your bedroom was on the top floor, and judging by your Snapchat that’s where you were, so it was unlikely that you would be the one to answer. He debated whether to text you and say he was outside, but it was too late for that now, he’d already knocked, so all he could do was hope that whichever one of your housemates answered would recognise him. If they didn’t, what would he say? He took another big gulp of his protein shake as he waited - just for something to do more than anything - swallowing harshly when the door swung open.

Thankfully, it was Liv who answered - and he knew she would recognise him, seeing as she was always in his house. Not that he talked to her very much, but he saw her often enough when they crossed paths on the way to/from the bathroom. She looked a bit more… frazzled than she normally did though, her hair escaping from a messy bun that had migrated from the top of her head to somewhere near her ear, and an enormous fluffy dressing gown engulfing her entire body.

“Oh hey,” she smiled tiredly, stepping back to let him in. “She’s upstairs.”

“Thanks,” Tom murmured, trying not to hit her with his gym bag as he squeezed past her into the hallway.

Liv just nodded in reply before going back into the living room, and Tom thought he heard her say his name just before the door swung shut behind her. As he made his way up the stairs to your room, his calves beginning to burn by the time he reached the second flight, he wondered why you complained about his house being so cold - yours was just as bad. No wonder you wanted to steal his hoodies.

Tom knocked on your bedroom door once he reached the top floor, pushing it open after you answered with a rather distracted sounding ‘ yeah?’. He was greeted by the pleasant, if a little overwhelming, scent of vanilla coming from the candle burning on your bedside table. Your room was also considerably warmer than it was out on the stairs, he noted as he entered the room, so maybe he took back his previous comment.

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, leaning back against the headboard and looking down at the cards in your hands, not bothering to look up to see who was coming into your room.

“Hey…”

Your head jerked up at the sound of Tom’s voice, your emotions showing plainly on your face - confusion, then recognition, then confusion again. You smiled as you sat up straighter, lowering the cards in your hands onto the bed.

“Hello?” you watched him as he dropped his bag at the foot of your bed and shut the door behind him. “You...what?”

Tom smiled as he sat down on the edge of your bed beside you. You looked very cute, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt with a pair of fluffy socks on your feet, and he would very much like to kiss you. Were you at that stage, he wondered? A hello-kiss stage? When he sat down you had sort of leaned towards him, so he took that as an opening.

“Thought I’d come and supervise you,” he twisted to face you more as he spoke, leaning across your crossed legs.

“Oh,” you smiled against his lips before they met yours softly. “Okay. Hi.”

“Hey,” Tom murmured between kisses, pulling back after the third (or maybe it was the fourth, he wasn’t counting). “How’s your night off going, then?”

You both looked down at the pile of flashcards between you as you sighed.

“It was going okay -” You broke off when Tom looked at you skeptically “- it was! But Liv and Mads started revising in the living room ‘cause they’ve got an exam tomorrow and it was stressing me out so I came up here to try and chill…”

You gestured to the candle on the cabinet and your laptop beside you on the bed, the screen dimmed on the Netflix homescreen, sighing. “...and then, I dunno, I just keep thinking how annoyed I’ll be if like, something comes up and it’s like ‘oh I was gonna look over that but I couldn’t be arsed so I didn’t’, you know?”

He did know, sort of anyway, so he nodded.

“Makes sense.”

“I’ve still got all day tomorrow and Thursday though, so like I want to take tonight to do nothing, but I got bored and…” you trailed off, lifting up a flashcard in lieu of finishing your sentence.

“I see,” Tom nodded. “Well, do you wanna watch a movie or something? Or I can go - sorry I should have asked before coming over-”

“No!” you reached out and put your hand on his knee, stopping him from going anywhere (not that he was really that set on leaving anyway). “No, you’re fine - it’s fine. Stay.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhmm, yeah. Movie sounds good. Though, actually…”

Tom raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, humming for you to continue.

“Would you mind testing me on some stuff first?”

“Sure - these?”

You nodded when Tom gestured to the cards scattered across the bed, so he gathered them up into a pile while kicking off his trainers.

“You’re not allowed to laugh if I pronounce stuff wrong,” he warned, lying back on the bed and holding the cards above his head.

“I promise.”

You ended up going through pretty much all of your cards - or at least all the ones you had out, Tom wouldn’t have been surprised if you had more stacks elsewhere - and you knew everything on them except for a few tiny little details, so why you were even stressing was beyond him. You were all huffy and frowny about anything you didn’t get, which was cute, reaching out to take the card from him to read it over before asking him to put it to the back of the pile to come back to at the end. After a little while you lay down too, your head resting on his stomach and your feet propped up on your pillows, which meant he could peek under the cards at you when you scrunched up your face while you thought about his questions, staring at the sloping ceiling like it held the answers. It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind for coming over, but it was nice to spend time with you all the same - especially having you lying on him like this. The only trouble was he was getting hungrier and hungrier, and his stomach was not being quiet about it.

“Yep, I think you got it all - sorry,” he groaned, cringing when his tummy rumbled for the third time in the time it took to go through your last two flashcards.

“S’okay,” you looked up at him as you spoke, laughing softly. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, sorry, haven’t eaten yet.”

“Me neither,” you shook your head, yawning as you sat up. “Can’t be arsed making anything though.”

Tom sat up too, propping himself up on his elbows and setting your cards down on the bed.

“Wanna get a takeaway?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes practically shining as you grinned.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes please,” you nodded enthusiastically, until your eyes went wide and you gasped. “Oooh or we could go to McDonalds?”

“Drive through?”

“Obviously.”

Tom considered your proposal for approximately 0.003 seconds before he nodded back, sitting up. “Sounds good to me.”

With that you got up and grabbed a familiar looking hoodie off the back of your chair and pulled it on, shoving your phone and purse into the pocket. You tried to put a pair of trainers on while Tom did the same, but unfortunately they didn’t fit over your fluffy socks, so you were forced to change to a much less cosy pair of regular trainer socks, and less than five minutes later you were in the car on the way to 24 hour McDonalds (after running back up the stairs to blow out your candle).

You talked the whole way there, pausing only to order and pay (Tom tried to pay but you leant over and tapped your card against the reader before he had a chance). You talked while you waited for your order, you talked while you parked up in the almost empty car park (10:30pm on a Tuesday was clearly not their prime time), you talked while you ate - about exams, about your night out plans for Refreshers week next week, about Tessa (Tom’s personal favourite subject), about anything and nothing and everything in between. You talked on the way home (after a second trip through the drive through because Liv texted you while you were eating so you had to get a McFlurry and a Happy Meal for her and Madison), until you were parked up outside your house and Tom had to regretfully decline your invitation to come back in. He wanted to, he really did, but he knew he’d fall asleep and he had work in the morning - he’d managed to get most of his shifts covered to give himself time for exams and hangovers over this week and next, except this one - so he was forced to bid you goodnight after a goodbye kiss (or five or six goodbye kisses) in his car.

The next two days went by in a flurry of cramming and stressing, but before long Friday afternoon rolled around, bringing with it the sweet relief of freedom - for both you and Tom. Exams done and dusted, gone in a matter of hours after weeks of work, the plan going forwards for this: chill, go for a celebratory Nandos, possibly nap (definitely nap), then get ready and go out to the End of Exams party at the SU. Step one (‘Chill’) was well underway - for Tom, at least, who was lounging quite comfortably on your bed while you shoved your revision notes into boxes and files so you never had to look at them again.

“My back is killing me,” you groaned, sitting up straighter in your desk chair and rolling your shoulders back until they clicked. “Might go for a massage as post-exam treat.”

“I could give you a back massage?”

You laughed but didn’t reply, just turned back to what you were doing at your desk.

“No seriously,” Tom continued, looking up from where he was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram on his phone. “If you want - I mean I’m not a professional but I’ll give it a go.”

You laughed again, but spun your chair around to face him this time. “Okay, sure.”

Tom moved to let you sit down on the edge of the bed, setting his phone aside and kneeling behind you once you were settled. He wasn’t really sure what he was going to do, but like he said, he’d give it a go. Sitting back on his heels, he began to rub your shoulders, working your muscles with the pads of his thumbs. You rolled your shoulders back again as he massaged them, cracking your neck to each side with a sigh.

After an indeterminate amount of time - time had a weird habit of going both too fast and too slow when he was touching you, Tom had come to realise - you twisted your arm behind your back, gesturing between your shoulder blades with your hand.

“Can do you like, this bit?”

“Sure,” Tom thought for a moment, paused, then swallowed harshly before continuing. “Probably easier if you uh, lie down and like...takeoffyourbra.”

“Oh you think?” you laughed, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Just a suggestion,” Tom shrugged, putting on his most innocent smile.

“Fine.”

You sighed as you rolled your eyes, reaching behind you to unhook the clasp of your bra. Watching you intently as you wiggled out of your bra without taking your top off like some sort of circus performer, Tom shuffled down the bed to give you room to reposition, kneeling beside you once you lay down on your front. His fingers brushed over yours as he helped you push your t shirt up to expose your back.

“Do you have any, like, I dunno-” he began as he ran his hands over your back, stopping when you cut him off.

“Are you about to ask me if I have any massage oils?”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, your cheek pressed to your pillow as you lay with your head to the side. Tom didn’t know quite what to say, feeling his face heat up as the seconds ticked by.

“Uhh…”

“Why would I have massage oil?” you laughed, shaking your head (though your head movements were pretty restricted given your position).

“I dunno…” he shrugged, laughing too when he thought it through, hearing it how you would have heard it and realising it was a pretty bizarre think to ask. What did he think you were, a masseuse?

“I have body lotion on my dresser though?”

“Right, okay, that works.”

Scrambling off the bed, Tom made his way over the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room. He scanned over the bottles and tubs sitting on the surface, trying to decipher which one might be most appropriate. After a moment he settled on one in a rather large bottle with a pump dispenser, ‘Smoothie Star Deep Moisture Milk’ printed on the front along with a picture of a milkshake - or perhaps it was a smoothie, given the name of the product. Either way it seemed like it would do the job, and according to the label it had an “irresistible scent” so that was promising.

Definitely not noticing that he could kind of see the outline of your underwear through your leggings now that your top was no longer covering your bum, Tom climbed back onto the bed and set your moisturiser down on your bedside cabinet. He knelt by your side for a moment, before deciding to just go for it and swing one of his legs over yours, careful to support most of his weight as he sat atop your thighs. Reaching over, he pumped a generous amount of ‘body milk’ (which now he thought about it didn’t really sound all that pleasant) into his hand, rubbing his palms together to try and warm it up a little before he touched you.

“Sorry s’cold,” he murmured as he started to rub it into your skin, hearing your breathing hitch slightly.

“S’okay.”

Your voice was a little muffled, your face pressed more firmly into the pillows as your body relaxed, but he heard you well enough. He started to massage the area you’d asked him to do, varying the pressure of his fingers and thumbs as they worked your muscles, sliding smoothly over your skin. You sighed contentedly as he continued his work, moving up to your shoulders, then back down to do between your shoulder blades again, until the majority of the lotion had been absorbed into your skin.

Tom was trying very, very hard to concentrate on what his hands were doing, he really was, but the thing was that your skin was very soft and warm, and the scent of the body lotion really was quite nice. He wasn’t sure if he’d go as far as irresistible but it was sweet and comforting - almonds, oats, and brown sugar, apparently, he saw when he squinted to read the label. In any case the whole experience was quite pleasant, and your thighs were warm and firm underneath him, and then he moved his hands to massage your sides and accidentally-maybe-a-little-bit-on-purpose touched the side of your breast, and he became rather more aware of other, lower parts of his body. Oh no.

His eyes flicked to your face to gauge your reaction - if you didn’t react, or looked uncomfortable, he’d stop and go back to your shoulders. He could only see the side of your face, and your eyes were closed, but he was fairly sure there was a flicker of a smirk on your lips, so he figured he could test the waters a little. You must have known this was a possibility though, surely? Surely it had occurred to you that a backrub might not be 100% innocent? Not that that had been his intention, but still, he was only human.

Tom’s hands moved down to your hips and then inwards, his thumbs working into the small of your back. You hummed appreciatively, which was encouraging, so he shuffled further down your legs as his hands traveled lower and lower until they were on your ass, and he could have sworn you pushed back against him. Tom squeezed your bum, gently at first and then a little firmer, his thumbs tucked under your cheeks. You hummed again, but this time there was definitely something more than just appreciation for a good back rub in there, so he leant down and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, then another to your neck, nudging your bunched up t shirt aside with his chin. He watched your face as you smiled, sighing. You began to shift beneath him, his hands moving to hold your hips loosely as you turned onto your back.

“Better?” he mumbled against your lips before you kissed him, your fingers weaving into his hair as you pulled his face down to yours.

You just hummed into the kiss, so he took that as a yes, and moved one hand up to your breast. Slipping beneath your t shirt, his hand kneaded your breast firmly, feeling your nipple hardening beneath his palm. You whimpered softly into his mouth when he pinched it between his fingertips, his tongue dipping into your mouth as your jaw slackened.

Grinding against you as you kissed, Tom moaned at the sensation of his hardening cock rubbing up against you, even through his clothes. His lips left yours as he moved to kiss down your neck and chest, pushing up the front of your top to expose your body.

He sucked your right nipple into his mouth while his hand continued to play with your other breast, rolling his tongue over it until it was firm between his lips. You whined, and he was very thankful that he managed to open his eyes and look up just in time to see you biting your bottom lip, your eyes fluttering shut. He switched his hand and his mouth then, his fingertip tracing small circles over your damp nipple while he covered the other with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth until you whined again, tugging on his hair.

Scattering kisses across your stomach as he went, Tom continued his way down your body, his hands tugging down the waistband of your leggings and underwear together. Pulling them down, he moved down the bed until he was at the foot of your bed, helping you wiggle out of the tight material with a breathy laugh when it caught on your ankles.

Your leggings finally cast side, Tom knelt between your legs as you spread them open for him. His t shirt soon joined your leggings on the floor before he lay down, his fingertips brushing over your inner thighs as he pressed kisses to your hips. His hands and lips travelled down over your body, his middle finger slipping inside you as he sucked hard on the soft skin at the very top of your thigh. Searching for the spot he found last time, Tom twisted his wrist, curling his finger - and judging by your sharp intake of breath, he found it. Adding a second finger and crooking it at the same angle, he couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that spread across his lips - but with his face buried between your thighs, you wouldn’t have seen it anyway.

Your fingers toying gently with the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck as he worked, Tom took his time; flicking his tongue in firm circles, tracing long lines up and down, sucking and licking your clit while his fingers alternated between slowly pumping in and out of you and curling to stimulate that spot inside your walls. He savoured all your little moans and gasps, the twitching of your thighs, the tightening of your fingers in his hair, until:

“Oh fuck-”

Between your whimpered curse and the tension in your body, Tom knew you were about to come. He moved his hand faster, fucking you with his fingers until your back was arching, your hips jerking up as you squeaked out a moan, your walls clenching around his fingers as you came. He’d learnt by now that when he thinks he should stop he should actually keep going (and then stop), so he kept on moving his tongue in firm circles over your clit even once you stopped grinding against his mouth, your nails digging into the back of his neck as your orgasm continued to shudder through your body. He only slowed his fingers down once you began to relax, your hands leaving his hair as you let out a long, deep breath. Tom tilted his face to the side, kissing your thigh softly as he looked up at you, your eyes just blinking open and your teeth releasing your bottom lip from between their grasp.

Your hands rubbed his shoulders as he moved back up your body, giggling when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he kissed you. His arms bracketed your head as you kissed, supporting his weight over you as he lay between your legs. You cupped his face with one hand, the other trailing down his torso to undo his jeans. Tom sighed in a mixture of pleasure and relief when you pulled his boxers down enough to free his cock, your hand beginning to pump his length. Your thumb brushed over the head with each movement, his sensitive skin tingling beneath your touch. He tilted his head to the side as you moved to kiss his neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark just below his jawline. He had just about been able to stop himself thrusting into your hand up until then, but if you were going to be doing that, or nibbling on his earlobe, or moving your other hand from his cheek down to squeeze his ass, then he could hardly be blamed if he pressed his body closer to yours, your fingers tightening around his cock as he thrust into your hand. Your hand on his bum was pulling him closer to you anyway, so he didn’t have a choice, really.

It wasn’t long you both wanted, needed more, though, so with swollen lips and heavy breaths Tom off you to take his jeans off, pressing one more firm kiss to your lips before he did so. You sat up and took a condom from your bedside cabinet while he discarded his jeans and boxers, passing it to him once he was back kneeling between your thighs. He always felt like he had to fight the urge to say thanks when he took a condom from you, which didn’t really make any sense, like you needed it as much as he did? But anyway, this was not the time to ponder the proper etiquette of receiving condoms - you had one, it was now in situ, so he had more important things to think about.

Tom groaned as he eased into you, kissing your neck as you lay with your head nestled among the pillows, your legs spread open wide. He pushed into you slowly, gradually getting deeper with each thrust in and out until he was about to bottom out inside you. Looking down between your bodies to watch, he pulled out almost completely then pushed all the way back in, feeling your breath hot on his skin when you moaned.

Your fingers threaded through his hair once he was settled over you again, pulling him closer. You kissed his neck as his hips ground against yours, moving to suck just above his collarbone when he began to thrust steadily into you. Your teeth nipped at his skin, your tongue soothing the sting as his cock hit deep inside you with each jerk of his hips.

Squeezing your breast with one hand while the other held your waist, Tom dipped his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He started to kiss your neck, but you all but panted his name in his ear and tugged on his hair, so he ended up kissing your lips instead. All roaming tongues and smacking lips, you kissed messily, you whimpering into his mouth when he shifted the angle of his hips and hit deeper inside you. Your bodies weren’t positioned quite right for him to carry on hitting that angle, though, so he was forced to pull away from your hungry kiss and get to his knees (glancing behind him as he went so he didn’t hit his head on your stupid slanted ceiling).

Your arms fell either side of your head as it dropped back into the pillows, bending your knees to adjust to the new position, his legs slotting into place under your thighs. His hands gripping your waist, pulling you down onto him to meet each thrust of his hips, Tom looked down at you through heavy lids, watching your face, your body. Your mouth hung open slightly as you gasped out quiet ohs and fucks each time he thrust into you, your brow furrowed in pleasure and your breasts bouncing under your t shirt with every jolt of your bodies, your back arched as you gripped the pillow behind your head. Every now and then he reached down, his thumb brushing back and forth over your swollen clit.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your pussy pulsating around his cock as he rubbed your clit.

He was close, he knew, but thankfully he knew that you were too. You bit down on your bottom lip and looked up at him with almost pleading eyes as you lifted your legs higher still, bringing your knees closer to your chest as Tom shifted to lean down into you more. His fingers dug into your thighs as he held your legs up at your sides, one of your hands reaching down between your bodies to replace his, your fingers working your clit. The bed creaked under you as Tom thrust into you hard and fast, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to watch you come apart beneath him. You released your lip from between your teeth as you came with a heavy moan, your thighs shaking under his palms and your walls clenching around his cock - and that was it, he couldn’t hold out any longer. Eyes squeezing shut, he groaned as he came, slowing down his thrusts to a steady grinding inside you to try and draw out both your highs.

Doing his utmost not to collapse on top of you, Tom shifted to rest his weight on his forearms as he kissed your neck, breathing heavily. You wiggled under him, lowering your legs slowly either side of his hips as you smoothed stray hairs back away from your face.

“What?” he mumbled against your shoulder when he heard you breathe out a laugh. Tiredness tugged at every one of Tom’s muscles, but he mustered up the strength to pull up and out of you, falling down onto his back once you’d shuffled to the side to make space on the bed beside you. “Why’d you laugh?”

“Just thinking- ” you mused, turning your head to look at him. “- interesting type of massage.”

“Yeah, well,” Tom chuckled, shrugging as he sat up. “Special clients only, you know?”

“I feel very privileged,” you smirked at him as he stood up to get rid of the used condom and its long-discarded wrapper.

Tom looked over his shoulder at you just as you were sitting up, pulling your t shirt down over your stomach and looking at the floor around your bed, presumably in search of your underwear.

“What sides are you getting?”

“Huh? Oh,” It took Tom a moment to catch up with the sudden change of subject, slightly preoccupied with cleaning himself up with a tissue at that precise moment. Truth be told, he’d kind of forgotten about your plans to go to Nandos. He was pretty tired anyway, after being up late last night cramming and then up early for his exam this morning which in itself was mentally tiring, and now this exertion of physical energy was more than enough to push him over the edge into nap territory - especially if he was going to go out tonight. But, you had been very excited about it, and he was quite hungry now that he thought about it, so he supposed he would make the effort. And now that he was thinking about it, he came to a decision as to which side dishes to get pretty quickly. “All of them?”

You nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“Good choice.”

Tom just about made it through driving to and from Nandos and eating without falling asleep, though driving back was significantly more taxing. On the way up to your room he grumbled internally about the decision to go back to yours - there were just too many stairs between the front door and bed for his liking - though he supposed it did make sense for both of you to get ready at yours. He’d only needed to bring like four things with him, whereas who knew what manner of equipment you’d need to get ready. And, as you were saying as you finally made it to your bedroom, you didn’t even know what you wanted to wear yet.

“What are your options?” Tom stifled a yawn as he took off his jacket, sitting down on your bed and kicking off his shoes.

“Ugh,” you sighed, throwing your own jacket on the back of your chair and opening your wardrobe. “I think these?”

You took out three dresses on hangers, holding each one up for him to see before tossing them onto your bed - or at least, he assumed they were dresses, but who knew, honestly. They all looked nice enough to him, and you always looked good anyway, so he asked what he considered to be the most sensible question:

“Which one is comfiest?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment before replying. “The black one.”

“Wear the black one then.”

You looked from the dresses (?) to Tom, then back again, then nodded.

“Okay,” you said decisively, bundling the clothes up in your arms and dumping them unceremoniously on your desk chair before wiggling out of your leggings. “That was easy, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Tom struggled to hold back another yawn as you closed your blinds, blocking out what remained of the daylight trickling through the window above your desk. Taking off his jeans and kicking them off the end of your bed, he shuffled over as you pulled back the duvet to get into bed beside him. Turning onto his side once he’d joined you under the covers, Tom smiled sleepily as you lay down facing him. He was pretty sure you smiled back, equally sleepily, but he hardly saw it, his eyes already closing without his consent nor permission. He felt like he was about to say something, but he couldn’t remember quite what it was, and he was falling asleep now, quicker than even he expected. Never mind, he resolved, if it’s important it’ll come back to me later - later...later! That was it, he was thinking should probably set an alarm so the two of you didn’t sleep too late and miss predrinks or something disastrous like that.

“What time-”

“Shhhhh!”

Tom opened one eye to see you shaking your head, your eyes closed even as you reached out to blindly press a silencing finger to his lips (well, his nose first, but it was clear you were going for his lips).

“Nap now, words later.”

Okay then, he closed his eyes again, already feeling sleep pulling at his mind and body, nap now it is.

⋘ ELEVEN | THIRTEEN ⋙

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kxhlzn · 4 years

Text

i | THE BIRDWATCHER.

SYNOPSIS: You spend some time brewing over big news, and Ben has a favor to ask.

GENRE: Coming-Of-Age, Drama, Angst, Romance, Slow Burn.

PAIRINGS: Stanley Uris/Reader, confusing Richie/Reader, Unrequited!Beverly/Reader, Bev/Ben, Pining!Eddie/Richie.

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k

WARNINGS: Profanity, semi-nudity, gay pining. Bullying, homophobia, etc in future chapters!

SONG RECS: 'She' by Dodie.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I made a post about my choice to rewrite this series, so here's the first chapter! The Losers' Club are all fifteen here, but this is still set in 1989. Pennywise doesn't exist. Reader is bisexual, or at least interested in guys and gals (& maybe non-binary pals! Whatever floats your boat!) Also if this all over the place don't come at me pls. Slightly edited and idk if it is even good so— 🤪✌🏻

There's been quite a few changes :)

MAY 1989.

DEAR LOSERS' CLUB,

No, that wasn't personal enough. You wanted each of them to know what they meant to you. Each of them.

DEAREST BEVERLY,

Why must your thoughts always drift to her first? Why can't she be third or fifth?

TO RICHIE,

You huff dramatically and crumple the notebook paper, attempting to toss it into the waste bin a few feet away.

A detached sigh tumbles from the wide desk across from you, and your history teacher slowly retracts his novel from in front of him to reveal an unamused expression.

He rolls his tongue against his cheek, and waits. When he is met with silence, he shifts in his seat. "... Aren't you, uh... Against wasting trees or whatever?"

You blink. "Yeah, obviously."

"Yeah, obviously!" Mr. Ellis laughs bitterly, and rolls his eyes. "Well, can you waste them a bit quieter?"

Before you can respond, he puts up a finger like he's suddenly been enlightened. "Or, better yet— Leave."

You tap your fingertips against your thighs, and kick your feet up onto your desk. "You know, if I didn't know better, Mr. Ellis, I'd think you didn't like me or something."

He stares at you blankly. "And where on Earth did you come up with that idea?"

You shrug, "No clue. Mr. Ellis, can I confide in your honest feedback on something?"

"I imagine you will anyway—"

"—So, listen... I'm going on a personal journey when summer break is over and I'm afraid I won't ever see you again," You explain, curving your brows inward. Your teacher uses his index finger to trace a single tear gliding down his cheek. "And, um, I don't— I don't know how to.. How do I tell the only true friends I've ever had?"

He pretends to think it over long and hard. "Let me see..."

"I don't care," He finishes, picking up his novel where he left off.

You scowl, and drop your forehead against the surface of your desk, the echo reverberating throughout the empty classroom, save for two people.

Mr. Ellis unwraps a cookie and takes a large bite, and glances at you intermediately between pages. He sighs again. "Will you leave if I tell you what to do?"

"Faster than when the lunch bell rings," You chirp, grinning brightly and leaning forward eagerly on your desk.

He rolls his eyes and puts his feet up on his desk, and pressing his back into his chair. "Go have some fun. Get high. Jump off roofs and ding-dong ditch. Just go be a kid, and tell them when the time is right. Okay?"

A light breeze rushes through the windows propped open with history textbooks, rustling the papers stacked on Mr. Ellis's large desk. Outside, the faint echo of laughter and summer jitters resounds within the four walls surrounding you.

You nod firmly, and skip to an open window.

Tossing him a grin, you give some finger guns. You crawl up onto the large sill, and before you hop out, Mr. Ellis calls your name.

He has the softest expression you've ever seen on him. "Listen— It's been a pleasure having you. Even if you were the loudest, most persistent, and possibly the worst student I've ever had. Just, uh— Be honest with your friends, okay? Don't wait 'til the last minute. They'll never forgive you if you do."

You give him a two-finger salute before hopping out the window.

You found out you were moving away from Derry in early April, due to an accident involving your grandfather's motorcycle obsession, but there was never really a good time to tell the people you've been slumming it with since you were eleven. The first time you tried, Richard Tozier pushed you off a cliff (a story for another time), and the second time, Ben burned himself on Beverly's flat iron (also a long story). The third time, the words fell dead on your lips when Stanley Uris told you you were the closest thing to a best friend he had.

You swear he was on the verge of tears.

So, you postponed. Now, it's late May, and you haven't said a word to them.

You know you have to tell them— You know this, you do, but the timing is never right. At least, that's what you keep telling yourself— Because somehow the words "you're a coward" are far too intimidating to admit.

Especially to yourself.

Heat swells across your cheeks, the massive, and rowdy, kitchen bustling with voices and feet. Your apron hugs your waist and you peer over your shoulder at Beverly, whose red hair is vibrant against the pale walls. Her blue eyes glance up to meet yours, and they are gentle. Bristling, you face Stanley on your right, who is speaking softly with an elderly woman on the other side of the counter.

The soup kitchen is a bit vacant in terms of people to serve, as it's the first few minutes before the dinner crowd pools in at seven. This time is the most peaceful— Pots and pans full of nutritional foods are filling up quick, and you're all anxious to help anybody who walks in the doors.

In Derry, there isn't much funding for volunteer work, so you do what you can— The local church offered up lodging for the soup kitchen, so you're all pretty thankful for the church leaders.

You study Stanley silently, his eyes focused and mild as he speaks with the woman. He's grown quite a bit since last summer, and he let his hair grow out a bit, so now it's a wild mess of curls. You like that he's eased up on the product, so he's all-natural. In order to catch what the woman is saying, he leans forward, in all his 5'8" glory.

He glances at you and places a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Louanne. I'll see what I can do."

She smiles. "Bless you, Stephen."

You snort while she waddles off, and Stanley leans on the counter with his attention locked on you. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"She seems sweet," You say, "How you liking volunteering, Stephen?"

He tries to prevent himself from laughing. "Stop! That's so mean, she's sick."

"What ever do you mean?" You quip, leaning on the counter next to him. Stan rubs your hair into a frizzy mess and stands tall.

"Uris, I need you over here on dishes," Willow, your team leader, shouts from across the kitchen. You can only briefly catch her curvy figure before she disappears behind the doorway.

"Nah, Willow, I got it! Stan's good with the old ladies. Real player, this one," You respond, poking Stan's stomach, "Maybe you'll get lucky."

"That's gross! Go away."

You laugh maniacally.

The dinner rush is heavy once seven hits, but it fades out at about 7:45. People are ecstatic that's it stew night because they are allowed to take a styrofoam bowl on the go. A few stragglers are permitted to camp the night out in the main hall, as the homeless aren't taken to kindly in Derry. Mayor claims it's 'bad' for traffic and tourism, but you know that Derry is the last place anyone would want to tour in. You're pretty sure it's been wiped off the maps, but that's a conspiracy theory for another time, one that Richie had so kindly coined.

Most of the kids who volunteer at the soup kitchen in the church are hoping to capture some hours for the college applications, but you volunteered because you felt like it was the right thing to do; It was simply convenient that it looked good on apps.

There's light shuffling and clanging as volunteers work to clear up the church for Sunday mass. You balance a tray of plates and glasses pressed against your chest with one arm, while you wipe down a table. There's a hand on your shoulder that suddenly startles you, causing you to drop the tray on instinct.

Glass shatters everywhere, then silence.

"Fuck!" You whisper violently, and you drop to your knees, frantically trying to pick up as many shards as possible before Willow comes screaming.

Beverly is beside you, as is Stanley, and all three of your try to clean the mess.

"God, I'm so sorry," Beverly says, "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Uh, no, no, it's okay," You reply quickly, looking up at her. She smiles softly.

You flush and revert your attention back to the problem at hand. Your cheeks burn a bit, so you try to ignore it— But it leads to carelessness, and you give yourself a clean cut across your forefinger.

Hissing, you retract your hand and examine the damage. The minute you notice red, you become uneasy. Beverly and Stanley both take a sharp inhale.

"Oh, God— Uh, Stan, you got this? I'm gonna go get her cleaned up," Beverly says.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Thanks. C'mon, let's go," Beverly tells you, but you shake your head.

"I'm fine! S'just a cut. I can slap a bandaid on it later," You reassure her, but she's not having it.

"Now," She warns, gripping your arm softly.

Bottom line, Beverly Marsh can make you do anything she wants you to.

You kick your legs out in a steady beat, seated on a counter, while Bev digs around the first aid kit in the storage room. Her back is facing you, so you have a chance to study the freckles up the top of her spine and into her hairline.

You hold your right hand with your wrist, squeezing harder each time your wound throbs.

"Got it," Bev whispers, and she turns quickly. Positioning herself between your knees, she takes a hold of your finger and wipes it briefly with a wet cotton ball. Next, she uses a clean one to wipe disinfectant across the slit. "How bad does it hurt?"

You lie. "Not much."

Her blue eyes look at you with amusement. "Please."

"Okaaay. A bit more than 'not much'."

"Hm," Beverly applies a bit of cream on your cut. "What kind of bandaid do you want?"

She holds up plain, princess, and car bandaids.

"What the fuck are those? Gender-specific bandages?"

She says your name sternly.

You sigh. "Princess, please."

Beverly smiles and opens the package.

The room is quiet for all except the rustling of the paper, and you pop your mouth awkwardly.

"Hey," Bev says slowly, "Um, listen... You do realize that Stan—"

The door is cracked open and the curly head of Stanley peeks through. "Hey... The cut isn't bad, is it?"

You and Bev glance at each other, and Bev shakes her head.

"No, not at all. Just finishing up," She replies, sticking the pink bandaid on your wound. You hop down and wiggle your finger at Stanley with a grin.

"Good as new!"

He smiles softly. "Glad you're okay. I cleaned up all the glass, so don't worry about it."

"Okay! Thanks, Stan," You say, hooking your arm around his neck. He prickles a bit but relaxes immediately.

Beverly unties her apron and lays it on her forearm while she walks on your free side. "M' still upset Ben couldn't make it."

"Me too," You agree, "He was really looking forward to it."

"He can always go without us," Stan adds.

"It's not the same, though!" You say.

Stan shrugs.

It's humid outside the church, but that's to be expected during the summer. The sky is a deep cloudy sapphire, with the buzz of bugs filling the air. The older volunteers disappear into their cars while you, Stanley, and Beverly talk amongst yourselves. Bulbs above the entrance are the only source of light within a few yards.

Beverly puts her weight on her left foot, the gravel beneath her crackling while she recites a story Bill told her about local legends.

Just as she reaches the climax, the church doors creak open and Willow appears. She keeps her back to you while she locks the entrance, and once she turns, she eyes the three of you.

"Y'all need a ride?"

All of you glance at each other, and Stanley checks his watch.

"We'd love one!" You chirp, giving him a light shove.

"If it's alright with you, of course," Bev adds.

"I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't!" Willow says sharply, but without venom. "Hop in."

Somehow, you end up squeezed in the middle, with Stanley and Beverly on each of your sides. You scowl, eyeing the passenger seat with a purse in it.

Stan's clearly uncomfortable, his shoulders curved inward while he anxiously taps his kneecaps. He seems to be looking everywhere but at you and Bev.

"Everything okay?" You whisper.

He shrugs. "Yeah, just, uh— My mom isn't big on me getting home so late from the kitchen; She wants me to quit."

"That's fucked," You say.

"Hey!" Willow barks, glaring at you through the rearview mirror. "I may your super cool team leader, but I still don't appreciate you using a dirty mouth in my car."

You snicker, and she bursts into laughter.

Beverly pokes your shoulder. "Hey, um— Would... Would it be cool if I stayed with you tonight? My dad, he, um... He went out drinking when I woke up, so—"

"Of course," You interrupt. "Stay however long you need."

"Thanks..." Bev says quietly, and she leans against the window of the car.

Willow pulls up into your driveway within five minutes, and Bev steps out. You make an effort to give Stan a brief hug before you go, and he gives you a little wave as Willow leaves.

You and Bev remain quiet when you sneak into the house through the front door, in fear you might wake your mother. When you enter the living room and see the woman's knocked out cold with the television on, you wave Beverly upstairs. She obliges.

You creep up to your mother and crouch next to her head. She's got a bit of drool pooling on the cushion, and you crinkle your nose.

Retrieving a pillow from a loveseat, you tuck it gently beneath her head and pull a blanket over her. Giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, you leave a glass of water and ibuprofen on the coffee table.

"Does she always do that?" Is the first thing Bev says when you reach your bedroom. You're a bit taken aback, but you regroup swiftly.

"Yeah. She gets these really bad migraines," You explain, leaving your bag on the floor and kicking off your sneakers. "And, um, they can sometimes turn into seizures, so we try to let her sleep as comfortably as possible."

"Oh," Bev says, "Can I borrow some pajamas?"

"Yeah!" You reply, "Just grab something from the closet or my drawers."

"'Kay," She snags a blank tank while you pick out a yellow nightgown. You're facing the mirror when Beverly pulls off her t-shirt, and you nearly choke. You can't seem to take your eyes off her back, even when you know you've been staring for too long. "Is your little brother asleep?"

You drop your attention to the floor and quickly pull off your shirt. "Yeah, should be. I'll kill the little shithead if he's not."

Bev smiles. "He's a good kid; If he's awake, he's probably reading. He likes to read, right?"

"Yup," You pop the 'p', "He's into numbers and all that. I'll never understand it."

"He probably thinks the same thing about your art, you know."

You hum and pull the nightgown over your head. "Everybody thinks that way about art, Bev. If you're not dedicated to a nine to five office job, then you're somehow a deadbeat, leaching off the productive middle class."

Bev laughs gently, and it's airy and elegant and perfect. "You're always opinionated, you know that?"

When you toss her a quizzical look, she elaborates and walks over to face you. "Not in a negative way; It's like... It's like you must have all these thoughts swimming around in that pretty head of yours."

Pretty?

Beverly continues. "I mean, you're just so... I don't know? Most people don't care about anything, let alone the world or society. You're bound to make a difference."

You blink at her, your fairy lights hanging loosely from your window and spreading a gold light. Her ocean eyes are iridescent. She's iridescent. Her pink lips curve into a smile, and she glances at the floor.

"What?" She whispers.

You sputter. "N-Nothing. Just, um— Thanks. Thank you, really. I— I just, nobody's taken me that seriously before," You explain, tucking a thick strand of hair behind your ear. "I've always just been Loudmouth."

Bev's face melts into one of sympathy and curiosity, her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks. Gingerly, she places a hand on your shoulder, one that shoots electricity throughout your skin. Her grip tightens. "Listen. Quiet people don't do shit, okay? People who keep their opinions to themselves don't make history."

You shrug a shoulder and give her a lopsided smile. "I can't even make a difference in backwater Derry. How the hell am I supposed to change the world?"

Outside, rain begins to patter restlessly against your windowsill, keeping the stars awake. Inside, Beverly looks at you like she just might think you're a goddess.

"You've already changed mine."

Your entire life, people have told you how the world has to be: Simple, honest, and conservative. They've told you who to be, who to love, what to do. It's always been "you'll meet someone who makes you feel like the world is glowing", followed by, "don't rush, you'll find him soon". What if you don't want to find him? What if you want to find her?

What if you already have?

Beverly Marsh is incomparably the prettiest girl you've ever seen when she's jumping from the cliff into the lake below.

Scratch that, she's incomparably the prettiest girl you've ever seen, and she makes your universe glow.

She's a flash of red, shimmering, shining, iridescent; A ruby tossed into the sky like a plain penny into a wishing well.

She's radiant, tomboyish, and beautiful.

Beverly, in all her elegance, has learned to tame your chaotic hair, your wild eyes, and the crooked pair of overalls that swallowed your thighs. Her, that gentle smile, rendered you speechless daily. You, notoriously nicknamed Loudmouth or Mouth, were silent for her.

You've already changed mine.

"Hey, Mouth! The hell are you gawking at?"

Richie Tozier waves a hand in front of you and you crank your eyes up to his squinting face. His freckles surround the massive pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, and his black hair nearly blinds him.

You throw up a palm to block the sun, but his giant head is doing most of the work. "Your mother over there in her Sunday best."

If he swung his body around any quicker, his head might have popped off like a Barbie doll. He gazes off into the woods across the quarry, his lips upturned in an unattractive flytrap.

Beverly slips her cream-colored gown off her pale shoulders, drawing all eyes to her. The sun beats down on her chopped red locks, accenting the constellation of freckles along her nose, and warming your flesh under its rays.

Catching the way they all gaze at her, as starstruck as yourself, it hits you like a freight train— you weren't looking at her like you should have been.

Under the intensity of her icy blue gaze, you feel so small; so homely. Your chest aches, but that girl doesn't give you time to grieve. She is in the air in a split second, high like an angel, falling towards the murky waters below.

The boys crowd around the cliff's edge, mouths gaping, eyes bright. It strikes you from the heavens, like a harsh cacophony: These aren't your boys anymore.

You had slipped out of the world briefly, and before long, you are alone at the edge.

Sandy curls appear in front of your face, tilting to reveal the kind eyes of Stanley Uris. His mouth forms a firm line. He seems to be at war with himself as he stares out into the blue sky, dotted with white clouds.

He stays silent for a moment, searching for the right words. "I want to go last," He finally breathes, seemingly triumphed in his verbiage, "I don't want them to see me cross my fingers behind my back before I go."

The vulnerability he expresses warms your heart, and you grin up at him, having gained your confidence back. You are grateful he didn't pry into your dilemma. You didn't expect otherwise, but it was still nice. Stanley is a boy of few words, but the word 'shy' doesn't fit right, as it implies bashfulness or a sweet innocence.

Rather, he prefers the quality of speech over quantity, believing that the chattiest voices aren't always the loudest. A respectable notion, sure, but you tend to believe it in theory rather than in practice.

Stanley's thin frame makes no unnecessary movements, but rather awaits yours. One of his hands cuffs the other in front of his hips. The cool breeze had only an inch to squeeze between within the crevice of your shoulders.

You pull your yellow scrunchie from your hair, and wrap it around your wrist, as Stanley speaks, "Promise not to tell?"

“Pinky promise,” You insist, holding up the smallest finger on your right hand. When his wraps around yours, you toss him a childlike grin. “I never break them.”

You're gone, cascading down towards the green waters, each wave crystallizing in your descent.

"I know."

Stanley crosses his fingers behind his back and steps off the cliff's rocky edge.

Stan’s dive is a flash of gold: Like a bird, graceful in its dip, his curls like its wings.

You find yourself wanting to ask him what it's like to fly.

The water is cool, luckily fizzling the heat out of your cheeks when Beverly appears beside you, grinning softly at—

Bill.

You swallow thickly and turn your head to Richie and Eddie arguing about something pointless. Richie's skin is set ablaze every time Eddie points a finger at him or moves closer.

Across from you, Ben's eyes are set on your face, and you nearly jump when yours land on them. He sputters silently and glances over to the boulders near the trees.

You tilt your head in question, "Ben, what is it?" It's too late now, but you realize you weren't very subtle. At all.

He facepalms. "Can we, uh...?"

Nodding in understanding, you doggy paddle through the lake and onto the shore. Ben is quickly beside you.

The boy leads you over to the boulders and sits on a large one. His hands are glued to his knees, and you can tell he's anxious.

You lean your elbows on your thighs and wait.

"U-U-Um— Can I..? Would you..?" He shakes his head suddenly and regroups. "I need— I need help with something..."

"...Okay..?" You gesture for him to elaborate.

"Can you help me write love notes to Beverly?" He spits out softly, and you choke on your own spit.

You stand up abruptly, like you sat on a pin, and cross your arms. Your brows curl inward in confusion, embarrassment, and anxiety. "W-What? Sorry, I don't— Why?"

"Because... You are a girl, you know? You know a lot more personal stuff about her, I think, right?" He asks, rubbing his clammy palms together.

"Uh," You run your fingers up your arm, "I guess? I don't think... That would be... She doesn't..."

He gives you an awkward crooked smile. "I mean, it's okay 'cause you're a girl. I wanted to ask Bill or someone else but since they're guys it might be different..."

"H-How so?"

"Well— You know. They might secretly like her or something," Ben says, staring at the dirt by his feet.

You swallow, and glance out to the water; To where she is. Beverly meets your eyes and smiles gently. Your stomach does a flip.

"Can I— Can I think about it?" You inquire softly, and Ben nods swiftly.

"Yes! Yes, of course. That's okay," He sounds a bit sad.

You reach out and rub his shoulder. "You're an amazing person, Ben, you know that? She'd love anything you wrote to her."

You smile crookedly, the corner of your mouth twitching.

Ben nods slowly and shakes his arms a bit to free himself of nerves. "You're right— I should just be more confident..."

He's obviously trying to convince himself more than you.

"Bev—" He shouts suddenly, and she looks over with a grin. One of her hands runs through her hair, and you can feel her eyes burning holes in your face just seconds before she focuses on him. "You look beautiful today!"

Beverly Marsh smiles ever so gently, her cheeks blossoming in a shade of scarlet. The freckles lining the bridge of her nose accent the brightness of her eyes, and you swallow thickly.

She really does.

Tapping a pen against a thick sheet of paper, you push your tongue against your cheek and read over the words again.

PROS:

♡ helping ben!

♡ practicing writing!

♡ practicing stationary!

♡ getting ben and bev together!

♡ making bev feel good!

♡ getting over the butterflies?

You scowl. The hell does that mean? You glance at the clock, which reads 8:37. You consider the pros to writing anonymous love letters to Beverly, which seems to be a lot— And the selfish part of you tells you that it would be beneficial to you— How so? You're not quite sure, as admitting to yourself that it even took nearly an hour.

Within your friend group, you've always been relatively open— Keeping up with honesty, kindness, and always wearing your heart on your sleeve. Stanley said it was naive to do so, but you feel that in a world that is so blatantly harsh and negative, being real with those around you is a heap of good. So why is it suddenly so difficult to be honest with yourself?

You concentrate your thoughts of Beverly, so that you might understand, or in the least identify, what exactly your true intentions with her are. Immediately, your stomach curls, and you feel your insides turn to mush. These sensations are familiar— You've had countless encounters with them.

You picture her in your head, memorize the features of her that always seem to stick when she's around. Her red hair, her freckles, those eyes... And her lips. The curve of them when she grins, or laughs— And briefly, ever so, you imagine what'd they'd be like pressed against yours—

"Hey," Your mom says, your door now swung open, and you scream, tipping out of your desk chair. You land flat against your back and groan.

Your heart beats painfully in your ribcage.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Come do the dishes," She tells you, and you nod profusely.

You inhale through your nostrils and run your fingers through your hair, sighing. Once she's gone, you push your head into the crook of your elbow.

Tears unravel into your arm.

Why did it have to be Beverly Marsh?

[ 🌱 ] taglist (from original write):

@hannarudick @cedricisnotonfire @russian-romanova @pacifythepanda @queen1054 @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @delicrieux (you get to be on here cuz.. i said so).

#beverly marsh x reader #stanley uris x reader #it 2017 #it fanfiction #stanley uris imagine #beverly marsh imagine #kassiewrites #chapter one #BW #bw rewrite #the birdwatcher & his lover #the birdwatcher series #kassie writes

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swlbarnes · 5 years

Text

Soul - Jack Kline x Reader

Summary: Castiel always insists that it is impossible for humans to perceive the physical form of a soul. After spending time with Jack, you swear Cas is wrong.

Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader, Father figure!Castiel x Reader

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: canon typical violence, light torture, some slight angst, fluff, danger to reader, danger to characters, blood, fatherly castiel (is that a warning? idk), basically there’s some good stuff and some bad stuff, but overall it’s fluff! slight canon divergence, vague early season 14 spoiler, but the main Jack plot in season 14 doesn’t apply here

A/N: I had this idea like FOREVER ago bc of that shot of jack asleep in the back of the impala (gif below), and i just got around to writing it bc school is garbage (pls stay in school). Hope it’s alright! Feedback is always greatly appreciated!

gif creator here, give them love!

Soul /sōl/ noun - the immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life.

You often found yourself asking Castiel the most random of questions about the universe. What was the beginning of the world like? What did the Bible completely get wrong? How have things changed over time in Heaven? Who thought the platypus was a good idea?

Most of all, though, your questions seemed to focus on one thing: souls. You were absolutely enamored by the subject. Something about them felt so incredibly intriguing, and after having seen the change in Sam Winchester when he happened to lose his soul, you wanted all the information you could get. Having an angel friend to answer your questions was exactly what you needed.

“Cas,” you spoke his name softly, intent on not destroying the peacefully quiet nature of the bunker’s library at 4 o’clock in the morning. The pair of you were up researching for a hunt after you found yourself unable to fall asleep. You insisted that instead of having Cas use his grace to help you sleep, that you could use your time to get some work done. The seraph reluctantly agreed.

“Yes?” He hummed in acknowledgement. His eyes lifted from his book in front of him just slightly to meet your gaze.

“What does a soul look like?”

Castiel let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back in his seat and pushing the book away just enough to show that you had his attention. A small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth at the question. This was far from your first time asking it. You questioned him relentlessly about every topic you could think of, but no matter what, you always came back around to the same question. What does a soul really look like?

And every time he gave the same answer: “They look like light.”

Sometimes you took this at face value, just glad to hear him say it again, but sometimes, like this particular night, you needed to hear more. You gave him a nod of encouragement, urging him to continue speaking. He took in a breath and cast his eyes over the room momentarily. His hands clasped together in his lap, and the small, relaxed smile remained on his face. He loved answering your questions and you could tell. There was always a childlike excitement to you when he would offer you a new piece of information. You would take his words and hold them close to you, eager to commit them to memory. You knew secrets of the universe that other people could never even dream of knowing. It felt nice to take you under his literal and metaphorical wing to teach you the things you wanted to know.

“Souls tend to shine differently depending on the person. You can tell so much about someone based on their soul alone. This is why demons are so easy to spot: their souls are so twisted that they become something so much different than the purity of a human soul,” he elaborated, his eyes trailing over the swirls of the wood grain on the table top.

You leaned forward slightly. “But surely not all human souls are so… pure,” you pointed out. He nodded.

“You’re correct. Many human souls find themselves being twisted in their life on earth as well, but never to the extent of a demon’s, of course.”

“But demons manifest themselves as black smoke. So, does that mean that the purity of a soul is based on how bright it is?” You continued to pester. You trailed your nails along the edge of the table subconsciously.

Castiel shook his head side to side. “No, not at all. It’s less of it being one rule for all and more of just a… feeling. Much like you are often able to tell the intentions of a fellow human with a glance, souls are much the same. Some souls are dim, but that does not mean that they aren’t beautifully pure,” he informed you. His voice remained level and patient, as it always did when you started a line of questions. You smiled at his tone. You were always grateful for the care he took in these situations. He never made you feel bad for your questions or your lack of knowledge, something you wished that your old school teachers had taken lessons in.

Your gaze travelled down to the pages of the lore book still open in front of you. The old weathered paper was yellowed and tattered with time. The top right corner of the page you were on was creased from someone who knows how long ago that dog-eared their spot in the text. You fought the urge to grimace at the foul treatment given to the book and focused instead on posing your next question. “What does… my soul look like?”

This was another familiar question, but still, Cas humored you. He trailed his eyes over your face with a thoughtful expression before he opened his mouth to reply. “Your soul is… complex. It shines bright, and has a slight, dare I say, twinkle to it. Like a star.” He paused to cast you a proud, fatherly smile. “You’re the team’s North Star, forever helping to guide us home.”

You cast your eyes downward, hoping the way your hair came down around your face was enough to hide your reddened cheeks and meek smile. You reached a hand up to trail a finger along the edges of your book. The worn leather of the binding was soft beneath your fingertips, and the scent of old pages wafted around you like a blanket in the serenity of the library. “I wish I could see souls,” you commented in passing, your voice heavy with exhaustion.

Cas was quick to recognize the wobble of your form and the half closed position of your heavy eyelids. He stood from his seat and made his way around the table, placing a hand on your shoulder and coaxing you upright. “Humans can’t see souls, and I promise that if there was a way for you to do so, you would be the first person I would tell.” With that, he led you down the maze-like halls of the bunker and into your bed. He brought the covers up to your chin, giving a light chuckle as he heard your soft snores before he was even able to shut the door behind him.

A year or so had passed since that night. Things finally settled down, and for once you could feel at peace. The bunker now consisted of the two Winchester boys, your fallen angel mentor, an ex-trickster archangel, and the son of Lucifer himself. Things were… good. There was just one thing…

Castiel had lied to you.

He had told you that humans could not see souls. That humans were incapable of comprehending the visual aspects of a soul. And you swear to every higher power you know, he lied to you. He must have. It was the only explanation.

These thoughts paraded around your mind, your brain’s mess of emotions a swift contrast to the atmosphere of the Impala you were sat in the back seat therein. Your eyes fixated on the nephilim sat by your side. Jack’s body leaned limp against the car door, his hand placed with his palm against the window to act as a barrier between his cheek and the icy glass. The sun was setting just on the other side of his window. The sky was streaked with endless shades of pinks, yellows, and oranges, spreading out in wisps that curled lazily around the surrounding landscape. Your ears were filled with the soft guitar riff of Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin cassette. The scent surrounding you was that of old leather, whiskey, gun powder, and a swirling mixture of both Sam and Dean’s favorite colognes - in other words, it smelled like home.

You fixed your attention on Jack’s form. Your gaze swept over him, taking in every detail you possibly could. You noticed the way the tips of his fingers twitched in his dreaming state. You noticed the slight part of his lips as he let out soft, even breaths. You noticed each little freckle that dotted his skin. You noticed the way that his favorite red jacket was tugged up to tuck into his neck, as you knew he loved how the fluffy fabric felt comforting against his skin. You noticed it all.

Most of all, you noticed the way the light of the sunset behind him framed his form. The remaining rays trickled in through the car window, casting a gentle glow around his silhouette. The orange tendrils of light curled along his hair and tinted his dark brown curls a lighter, more fiery blonde color. The slant of his cheekbones was far more distinct in this lighting. The shadows of his face were dark and impressive, but somehow his features maintained his tender nature. In fact, you swore you could make out the shape of a halo at the crown of his hair. Everything about him and the way the sunset curved around him felt so celestial, so strong. Yet still he retained an air of care and love about him. He just looked so… Jack. And it was incredible.

“What do you mean you’re scared of the dark?” Dean asked in a teasing tone. An annoyed scowl formed in your lips and your arms wound around your own torso as you sought out as much comfort as you could get.

“Oh, shove it Winchester. We’re all scared of something. You wouldn’t be so cocky if we were in an airplane right now,” you shot back. You tried your best to hide the shake in the back of your throat, but you knew by the eldest brother’s deep chuckle that you hadn’t done as well as you had hoped.

“That’s because a plane crash will kill ya, and you just have to go down without a fight. Seriously, you’re a hunter, how are you afraid of the dark?”

You shuffled around from your place in one of the plush couches of the library. The darkness surrounding you curled its claws around your neck and began to squeeze, but you just shook your head in an attempt to fight it off. “I know what’s in the dark. I think we have more reason to hate the dark than anyone else does,” you insisted. You could practically see the stupid smirk on his face, and you wanted nothing more than to punch it right off.

Your knees tugged themselves up against your chest so you could wind your arms around them. Gazing into the endless darkness was unsettling no matter what, but to make things worse, you didn’t know what was really in the bunker. The last time something got out, the Wicked Witch tried to destroy Oz, and you weren’t too keen on fighting both your fear of the dark and another old fairy tale on the same day. Nope. Definitely not. You were much more comfortable sitting right where you were on the couch with your back pressed against the wall and your feet up off the ground so nothing could grab you from somewhere in the emptiness.

The sounds of shuffling coming from the winding corridors caused you to jump in fright. “Wh-who’s there?” You stuttered out, turning your head from one side to the other as if you could see who - or what - was making their way over to you.

Around the corner, the flame of a lit candle made itself visible, the light it emitted casting a soft golden glow over the surrounding few feet. “Dean? (Y/N)?” The soft, familiar voice of the nephilim called as he rounded the corner, candle in hand. Your heart jumped at the sight.

“Jack!” You cried out gratefully. You instantly flung yourself off of the couch, the balls of your feet barely hitting the floor with each step before you leaped forward again, all the way up until you made it to the man. You ducked underneath the candle and wrapped your arms around his waist, tugging him close to you in search of comfort.

The air in his lungs was exhaled with a huff upon impact. He raised the candle above his head to ensure the flame wouldn’t catch on your hair or clothing before he wrapped his free arm around your shoulders in a comforting - yet confused - manner. “Are you alright?” Jack asked with an edge of worry in his tone. You nodded against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just… don’t like the dark. And Dean is mean to me.” Your accusation brought forth a cry of offense from Dean, which in turn caused you to chuckle into the material of Jack’s shirt, which you were still clinging to as if your life depended on it. Jack looked up to Dean in an ever-so-serious accusatory manner.

“Sam is working on getting the power back on still. He said he’s almost got it, but I should come check on you in case you were worried,” the nephilim explained, turning his gaze to you once again. You cast him a small smile and took a step back.

You coughed to clear your throat from the awkward silence that followed, much to Dean’s amusement. He indicated this with a rather unflattering snort that you would have demolished him for in other circumstances. Instead of tearing into the older hunter, you peered upwards at the man in front of you. “Well, thank you for coming to make sure we were alright. I don’t know how much more of Dean’s teasing I can take, especially when it’s too dark for me to even take a swing at him.”

A smile bloomed on Jack’s lips, and your expression brightened to match. He lowered the candle again, now that you were a safe distance away. You instantly found yourself mesmerized by the way the shadows shifted across his skin, accentuating the hills and valleys of his face in different ways based on where the flame sat.

The soft orange glow flickered in his irises. The light was just bright enough to illuminate his face, chest, and shoulders, but the rest of his body seemed to fade into the darkness all around you. A few strands of chestnut hair were still visible, and the light brought forth more details of his natural highlights than you had previously noticed. Overall, he looked warm and safe, and you found yourself shuffling to remain close to him with each movement. You would later insist to Dean that this behavior was a result of you wishing to remain close to the light, but deep down you knew what the true source of your comfort really was.

“They’ll never find you, y’know,” the young janitor insisted as he strolled leisurely around the empty space. Well, to be fair, this wasn’t really the janitor. The real man was likely off in some remote location with a slit throat like all the other poor vics you had come across in the coroner’s office on this particular case. No, this man was the shapeshifter you and the team had been hunting for the past week.

You weren’t entirely sure how you had gotten caught. Your plan was foolproof, at least it was all the way up until it wasn’t. Perhaps it really was never the best idea for the whole team to split up and have each of you going off on your own, but there were simply too many possible hotspots the shifter could have shown up to and not enough hunters to adequately cover them all. You were all hoping to figure out who the latest face claim was tonight, and had no intentions of moving in on the creature. Apparently it had far different plans.

All you could remember was an ear ringing thud against the back of your head before you woke up tied against one of the rickety support beams in an old abandoned warehouse close by where you had been conducting your personal search mission. An hour and a half had already passed, and you found yourself running low on snarky quips to fire back. The backhanded commentary about the cliched locale ran out of steam about thirty minutes ago, and he really wasn’t giving you much else to work off of.

This had clearly worn you down, and you wanted nothing more than to get back to the motel room, shower off the blood and dirt clinging to your skin, and collapse into bed. Of course, your idiotic friends would have to actually find you and save you before that could happen.

“If you were really that confident in them not finding me, then you wouldn’t feel the need to constantly remind me how hopeless it is,” you pointed out, shrugging nonchalantly. “But, whatever, that’s just psychology or whatever. I’m sure the world renowned Winchesters will be completely fooled by you, some random back alley shifter with a thing for the dramatics.”

The noise that ripped from the man’s throat could only be described as a growl; it was a bit too human to be an animal, but just animalistic enough to not feel human either. All in all, it was utterly unsettling, and you found your feet shuffling around in discomfort. “Shut up,” he snarled. His lip curled upwards to bare his teeth, an act that seemed out of place when the pearly whites being revealed were the dull, omnivorous ones of a human being. You quirked a brow in question.

The shifter twirled the knife in his hand as he made his way over to where you stood. The cool metal of the blade was chilling against the skin of your neck, and you pressed your back into the wooden beam behind you in an attempt to retreat from his threat. “For someone about to die, you sure do talk a lot,” he hissed. You winced against the scent of tobacco and cheap liquor clinging to his breath.

“Well,” you muttered, mustering a smirk despite yourself. “For an evil mastermind who wants to kill me, you sure are taking your precious time.” Perhaps goading a mentally unstable form changing monster into killing you wasn’t the best course of action, but it was the only comeback your brain could think of as you felt the kiss of his knife against your bared throat.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m just letting you simmer for a while,” the shifter hummed. He raised the knife to brush a lock of hair from your eyes before trailing it down the side of your face. Your fists clenched from their place tied behind your back. “That fear in your eyes, the fear you’re trying to hide from me, it’s… thrilling. You act so high and mighty, you act like you’re the one in control here, but all it would take is one… little…” The knife in his hand trailed down the column of your throat and paused just over your heart, where he pressed down the flat of the blade just enough that the edges dug into your skin. “Slip.” On that word, he flicked his wrist, drawing a line of scarlet blood along your chest. You hissed out in pain.

“Oh, screw you, man,” you muttered through clenched teeth. He gave a dark chuckle and ran his knife through the stream of blood trickling down your skin.

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a bang sounded from behind him. “Jack, wait!” Sam Winchester’s gruff voice called. The old, dilapidated door of the warehouse opened and slammed against the wall, revealing the young nephilim’s fuming form in the doorway.

“Jack!” You cried out in desperation. His gaze flickered over you momentarily, scanning your injuries and growing darker and darker with each new one he found. At the sight of the knife still being held against your chest, Jack’s eyes went alight.

“Stop!” He shouted, throwing his hand out in front of him and sending golden beams of his grace towards your attacker, who went flying far from gracefully across the empty room. His body slammed into one of the support beams, causing the wood to crack and splinter.

Sam and Dean came barreling into the warehouse after Jack, guns and knives at the ready. Sam wasted no time before rushing towards you, slicing through the rope around your wrists with his blade and catching you in his arms when your legs collapsed beneath you. You sighed and settled into his grasp, turning your eyes to Jack’s squared shoulders as he made his way to the crumpled form of the shifter.

Dean stepped forward to help the nephilim, but with a wave of Sam’s hand, he held his place and watched from afar instead. Jack’s entire body seemed to glow with his grace, his eyes a brilliantly bright gold unlike anything you had ever seen from the man. His jaw was set in determination as he reached a hand down and gripped the shifter’s shirt collar. He dragged the struggling man a few feet to the wall, where he slammed him against the ramshackled wooden planks.

“You should never have touched them,” he spat menacingly. Golden irises swept over the shifter’s body in disgust. The veins in Jack’s arm took up his signature glow as well, the light travelling up to his hand, where it seemed to sizzle against the shifter’s skin. An ear splitting cry ripped from the man’s throat, his legs thrashing wildly in an attempt to escape, but Jack made no move to let go. He simply tightened his grip and continued on. The shadow of two large wings spanned out along the wall, each wing easily seeming to be at least twice as large as Jack himself. They flared out in a way one could only describe as threatening, and for the first time in your life, you could understand the fear others seemed to have when they spoke of Jack Kline. The golden glow emanating from his being sent the hairs along your arms and at the back of your neck standing on end. Never had you seen Jack so… frightening. You tended to spend most of your time around the man cooing over his soft spoken nature and kind smiles. Seeing the full extent of the nephilim’s powers felt like being thrown into a bath of ice water. This truly was a being of immense strength and unimaginable power, and that fact was being thrown in your face quite suddenly.

“Jack!” You called out, voice wavering slightly in fright of the sight of such a cool and collected man in a state like this. He froze at the sound of your voice and turned his eyes to you. His grip loosened ever so slightly and his face fell as he realized what was wrong. He blinked away what he could of his anger and shifted his hand to the man’s forehead, sending one last blast of his grace to smite the shifter on the spot. The body crumpled to the floor, burnt out eyes gazing into nothing.

Jack turned on his heel and made it over to you in a few long strides. His hands reached out and he took you from Sam without a second thought. The golden glow in Jack’s eyes still had not disappeared entirely as he scanned over your injuries. His brow furrowed in unease at the sight of the various bruises and cuts marring your skin. Slowly, he raised a hand up to your cheek and pressed his palm against you. His grace flooded over your body, surrounding you in a warmth and comfort that felt so utterly Jack. Your injuries burned briefly as the grace touched them, but the discomfort was gone as quickly as it came.

At some point during the exchange, it seemed that your eyes had closed on their own volition. You allowed them to open once more, and they locked on to the fading light surrounding Jack’s pupils. Neither of you said a word, you just pulled him towards you and buried your face in his chest.

You tugged your jacket closer to your body against the chill of the late night winds. The tell tale splash of yet another rock being tossed incorrectly into the lake could be heard clearly as it echoed through the trees. A chuckle escaped your lips, an the nephilim by the shoreline pouted in response.

“I just don’t get it!” He complained, hanging his head low as he shuffled over to you. Your smile practically split your face at this point.

“Jack, it’s all about the technique. Plus, you have to get the right kind of rock. Make sure the rock is flat. Like…” Your eyes scanned over the rocks all around your feet until you found one that suited your needs. “This one!” You plucked it out of the mess and held it up to Jack for him to inspect. He turned it over in his fingers, brushing over the rock’s surface and giving an understanding nod.

“Okay,” he hummed in acknowledgement. “What next?”

You reached down and grabbed another similar rock that would suit your needs before standing upright once more. “Next, you want to crouch down a little, get yourself closer to the surface of the water, you know?” You do so as you speak, and Jack slowly moves to follow. “Turn to the side…” He shuffled so his side is facing the water. “Now, from here, you need to throw the rock as close to matching the surface of the water as you can, throw it kinda sideways, and flick your wrist.” With a quick flick of your wrist, the rock skids over the water and hops one, two, three times before it finally drops beneath the surface entirely.

You stood to your full height and turned around to face Jack, who had his arm wound back in preparation and a look of utter determination in his eyes. A small smile graced your lips at the sight. The light of the full moon illuminated his features in a soft, innocent glow. This setting felt so much different from the usual yellow tinted bulbs back in the bunker. The natural white light conveyed a sense of purity you had yet to see of him, but once it has been seen, the image will surely never leave you. His hair was pushed back to ensure there would be no distractions during such an important moment. Your gaze followed his arm as he flicked his wrist forward, sending the rock hurtling along the water. The ripples of the stone against the surface distorted his reflection, and you felt a small sense of pride when you saw how it bounced up and hit the water again with a splash.

“I did it!” He cried in victory, jumping up with a look of sheer joy.

You smiled back and nodded, trying your best to match his excitement. This proved to be an easy task, as anything pertaining to Jack and his happiness brought you joy. “You did! That was great, Jack!” You praised. He took a step towards you and pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you in a grateful embrace. Just like that day in the warehouse, you found yourself easing into his arms without a second thought. You slumped against him and pressed your face into his neck, glad to simply bathe in his presence and nothing more. The light of the moon cascaded down upon the pair of you, casting a line of white over the surface of the water. You trailed your eyes down the path of moonlight until your gaze rested on the still rippling reflection of your embrace. A smile settled itself on your lips, and you allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

He wasn’t supposed to run off. He was supposed to stay with the group. Where did he go? Why did he run off? Why did he run off?

Your panicked gaze scanned over your wooded surroundings in hopes of spotting the familiar nephilim, but it was to no avail. This hunt was lasting longer than it was supposed to. The last rays of the day were disappearing and the streams of sunlight that once ran through the treetops were quickly being replaced by a shroud of dark night sky.

A scream of his name bubbled up in your throat, and it took everything in you to force it back down and continue your quiet search. You could hardly even hear the shuffling of the rest of the team around you over the pounding of your heart in your ears. You tightened your grip on the handle of your gun, hovering your pointer finger over the trigger in case of an emergency. The bullets loaded into the gun wouldn’t do much good against the wendigo lurking somewhere in those woods, but you held on to the hope that you would be able to distract the thing long enough to molotov the son of a bitch.

“I just don’t understand why he would go off on his own like that,” you muttered aloud, voice audibly shaking with unease. Dean let out a sigh.

“You know how the kid has been lately. He hasn’t felt the same since he came back without his mojo. He’s probably trying to prove he’s still valuable to the team,” the older hunter explained. He kept his voice as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the bloodthirsty monster hiding in the shadows, but even at such a low volume his baritone seemed to echo endlessly through the trees. You winced at the idea of the wendigo perched atop one of the many branches looming overhead, simply listening to your conversation and waiting for the right time to strike.

You let out a frustrated huff. “He doesn’t have to prove a thing. We all know he’s a valuable asset to the team. Plus, he’s family.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sam nod his head, his chin length hair swaying with his movements. “Of course we know that, but I don’t think he’s trying to prove it to us. He’s doing this to prove it to himself.”

Your heart constricted at that. Jack didn’t believe he was capable without his powers, and now he was risking his life to make a point to himself. You swallowed the rising lump in your throat and blinked away the sting of would-be tears. This wasn’t the time to get emotional.

Your search seemed fruitless, and soon enough you found yourself unable to see past a few feet in the darkened woods. Castiel’s eyes shone a bright blue, the only light you could make out in the otherwise almost pitch black night. The moon provided little comfort from its place shrouded behind the tops of the trees. A chilling wind swept through the forest floor, sending an unnerving chill down your spine.

“Can you see anything, Cas?” You asked the angel, whose eyes flickered back and forth across the landscape. He furrowed his brow in frustration.

“I can’t find any signs of Jack’s presence. No trail of footprints, no broken branches, nothing to indicate where he might have gone.”

This answer was unhelpful, but exactly what you expected. Jack might be practically human now, but he isn’t a fool. He knows how to cover his tracks like the best of them. Castiel continued to examine the terrain, being the only one of the four of you who could still manage to see. Meanwhile, you followed close behind and tuned your ears in to listen for anything suspicious. It didn’t go over your head that there was still a ravenous wendigo prowling around, and three blinded hunters would surely be a tempting meal to the beast. If it wasn’t stalking Jack, then you had no doubts that its eyes were on you. To be entirely honest, you weren’t sure which option made your stomach turn more.

You had just taken another step forward when you heard the scream. Jack’s voice. Undeniably, that was Jack’s voice. “Help!” He sobbed, the piercing sound bouncing off the trees. “Please help me!”

It took less than a second for you to turn and dash in the direction of the disturbance. The cries of your friends behind you, begging you to stop were drowned out in favor of pushing all of your energy forward. A hand made a grab for your jacket. You yanked the material away in one smooth motion.

Once a set of fingers wrapped around your elbow and pulled backwards, that was when the world came flooding back to your senses. Your body tumbled to the cold dirt floor. Your limbs scrambled to right yourself and continue on, but you were ultimately stopped by a pair of arms curling around your waist and lifting you up and away.

“Sam, let go of me!” You pleaded as you continued to thrash in his hold. His grip only tightened. “Sam, please! I need to save him!”

“I can’t let you do that!” His voice sounded pained, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at that point.

“Why not?” You hissed through your teeth. Frustrations were mounting and anger bubbled up deep within your chest. “We can’t just leave him! He’s gonna die, I can’t lose him! We can’t lose him!”

“God, this is like trying to keep Jack from barging into that warehouse to save them all over again,” Dean muttered. His hands worked to keep you still, and your legs worked double time to kick him away. “Dammit, stop that!”

“No! Let me go!”

“(Y/N), have you forgotten what we’re hunting in the first place?” Castiel butted in. “This is a wendigo, their mimicry of human voices is perfect. We can’t trust anything we hear!” His tone begged you to understand. It told you how upset the situation made him as well. The amount of pain he felt from being unable to save the boy he sees as a son was clearly audible. And it made you even angrier.

“Sam, I’m sorry about this.”

A pause. “Wait, what?”

Without another word, you threw your elbow back to meet his chin. His hold on you released instantly, and as soon as your feet touched the ground, you were off. You could no longer hear their shouts. You couldn’t hear the pounding of your feet against the leaves and branches littered beneath your boots. You couldn’t hear your heaving breaths. All that registered in your mind was the pumping of the blood in your ears and the memories of Jack’s cry for help. Maybe it was the wendigo, but if it was, then it knew Jack. And now you had no doubt in your mind that it planned to go after Jack first. Maybe you were running straight into the monster’s trap, but if there was even the slightest chance that you could kill this thing before it set a claw on Jack Kline, you were going to take it.

Your search brought you to the mouth of a cave. All you could make out was the rock’s shape around a gaping, pitch black hole. Carefully, you tucked your gun in the waistband of your pants and replaced it with your lighter in one hand and your homemade molotov bottle in the other. In a few quick flicks the lighter sparked to life. Upon waving the flame over the ground outside the cave, a few old splotches of blood became very apparent, and your hunter instincts kicked into overdrive. This was the wendigo’s lair. There was no doubt about that.

You took silent steps into the cave. The humid air held the unmistakable scent of rotten flesh and the metallic tang of blood, new and old. You swallowed down the bile that threatened to creep up your throat and continued on. The shake that previously overtook your hands was long gone now, replaced by the deadly, steady accuracy of your rage.

Your venture took you deeper and deeper into the cavern. The farther in you got, the heavier the stench became in your nose, and it took all you had not to gag on each breath. The air was stale and the ground was just damp enough to utter a soft squish each time your boots sunk into the dirt. The cave took a sharp turn, and you pressed your back against the wall before swinging out around the corner with your lighter and bottle outstretched and at the ready. What you saw, however, wasn’t the wendigo, but a clearly winded Jack Kline pressed against the wall where the cave hits a dead end.

His eyes met yours and instantly you saw the fear filling his body. “No, you shouldn’t be here!” He cried out, struggling to his feet with one hand planted firmly on the rock wall.

Your jaw clenched at the sight of crimson staining his left pant leg, the denim clearly torn where the wendigo must have slashed at him to immobilize him. “Where is it?” You growled out. Jack opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short when the sound of skittering claws rang from behind you. You turned around in just enough time to see the beast swipe a hand at you. It sent you flying into the far wall of the space. Your grip on the bottle and lighter tightened as your back slammed against the stone. Pain exploded in your side, and only once you felt the blood soaking into your shirt did you realize it was coming from the large gash along your torso.

The wendigo let out a ferocious snarl as it stalked towards Jack, seeming ready for a meal now that it had stocked up on a new victim to keep for later. Blood trickled down your neck from where the back of your head had connected with the wall, and the pounding sensation sent your vision swirling and fading in and out. You couldn’t see much, but from what you made out of the creature raising its claws to strike Jack down, you were ready to jump into action.

One flick of the lighter seemed to be enough this time, and you barely gave the cloth enough time to catch the fire before you screamed out, “Duck!” and hurled both objects, molotov and lighter combined, in the direction of the monster. Jack dived towards you to the best of his ability with an injured leg. The molotov connected with the wendigo’s calf, the glass shattering and allowing the fire to spread to consume its entire frame.

You closed your eyes against the sudden light and turned to face Jack, who now sat next to you against the wall. Your hand reached out to instinctively cover Jack’s face from the flames, only to find that he, too, had turned to face you. You kept your hand in place on the side of his head. Your fingers curled into his hair and your palm pressed against his cheek in an effort to ground yourself.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to take in Jack’s features. The flickering orange flames illuminated his tousled mop of waves. With the fire placed where it was, only one side of the boy’s face was visible, but from what you could see, his skin was blotched with a layer of dirt. Some patches of skin were also coated in the telltale crimson of blood, while others were tinted a deep purple with an oncoming bruise. A distinct line ran down from his eye to curve around his chin, the path his tears continued to take along his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, a red tint surrounding the blue of his iris. The orange glow of the fire flickered in his glassy pupils. His eyes were wide and his pupils were blown like a frightened animal. His bottom lip pouted out, only adding to the image of a scared little boy being built in your mind.

His frame shook so heavily that you could see the shadow behind him quivering as well. He was scared - no, he was terrified. He was beaten, bruised, clawed, and thrown around, but all you could see was that he was alive. And in a moment of absolute clarity and overwhelming relief, you did the only thing you could think to do. You placed your palms against his cheeks and pulled him towards you into a kiss. He let out a gasp against your lips, but melted into the kiss only a moment later. He shuffled as close to you as he possibly could. His hands clutched desperately at your shirt and tugged every so often as if he wanted you even closer. Your hands drifted to the back of his head and your fingers curled through his hair. You gripped at the roots with just enough force to remind him that you were there, and you weren’t going anywhere.

By the time you both broke away from each other, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were stood over the flaming wendigo. The brothers’ chests heaved with the exertion of their run, and each of the three men wore expressions of mixed relief and understanding. Your cheeks flushed at the sight of the bruise forming on Sam’s chin. Dean let out a huff and shook his head to remind you that you would be getting a lecture for what you had done, but kept his speaking tone soft and clear of judgement for the time being.

“Come on, lovebirds. Let’s get you two patched up.”

You lounged lazily across the couch in what Dean had deemed his “Dean cave.” You had mentioned your favorite movie the other day in passing, and Jack had seemed quite interested in the subject, having never seen the film before. When Sam and Dean went out on a local salt and burn with just the pair of them, you decided that would be the perfect chance for you to introduce the ex-nephilim to your world. After mentioning the idea to Castiel and wondering if he had seen it before, he told you that he knew about it from the information Metatron gave him, but held no personal memories or thoughts on the subject. He seemed glad to join yourself and Jack on your movie night, and you were more than prepared to have a nice, calm night with your favorite celestial beings.

The room was dark except for the soft glow of the DVD’s menu screen on the flat screen Dean had splurged on a few weeks prior. You were grateful that you no longer had to crowd around someone’s laptop for movie nights, and the dedicated room for relaxation was a necessary add in to the bunker after everything you all had to deal with. You fiddled with the remote in one hand, your arm spread out towards the TV as it hung off the couch.

Castiel sat upright in one of the comfy old recliners placed on either side of the couch. His hands rested on his knees and a soft smile settled on his lips. His cobalt gaze swept over you in amusement and a bit of wonder. “(Y/N),” he addressed into the silent air. As usual in these situations, he kept his tone soft.

You looked up at him, your vision of him upside down from your position. “What’s up, Cas?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, fiddling with his thumbs. “We haven’t had a talk in a while.”

You paused a moment to think. “We have, Cas. We usually have a talk at least once a week. We had one a couple days ago, right?” You reminded him. Your brows were furrowed in confusion. Castiel gave a quick nod.

“Yes, I suppose, but I more so meant we haven’t had a talk about a specific subject in quite a while.” His rephrasing cleared up little in your mind, but from the look in his eyes, he was expecting you to come to some sort of understanding.

Your eyes wandered the room as you continued to rack your brain for a clue. “Do I get any hints? Am I allowed to phone a friend?” You joked casually.

Now it was Cas’s turn to furrow his brows. His gave his signature head tilt as he spoke. “I… don’t see how calling a colleague might help in this situation, but…” He trailed off and shook his head in dismissal. “What I mean is, you seem to have lost interest in the lore on human souls. I simply find it peculiar how you have stopped asking about wishing to see them and wondering what they look like so suddenly. I hope you know that you are not bothering me when you ask things like that.” His tone held an apologetic edge to it, as if afraid that he had seemed to disinterested and had scared you off of the subject. A smile found its way onto your face at the thought. Castiel, angel of the lord, worried he made you feel bad about your interests and curiosity.

“No, Cas, I know. You’re always very patient with me during our talks, and I really appreciate that. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I kinda… understand it now?” You tried to clear things up, but it came out sounding more like a question than an answer.

“How so?”

You gave a vague shrug. You dropped the remote onto your stomach and picked absentmindedly at your nails, trying to hide the crimson blush creeping up your cheeks in the low light available. Around anyone else you would be certain that they could not see such a thing, but you knew better with Castiel. His vision that night in the woods was proof enough that he could see in the dark without issue. “I guess I just… I understand how you can just… tell what someone is like through something as simple as a light. I understand that feeling of looking at something and understanding how it’s feeling. I used to think that a light couldn’t possibly be enough, that a soul can’t be made up of something so simple, but I guess I figured out how complex it can really be. Complex, but still… really beautiful. And good. And pure. And sure, maybe sometimes it’s a little scary, but at the end of the day, it stands for power and beauty and life, and that’s pretty amazing.” You trailed off of your tangent with a cough. Your cheeks were on fire, and you could practically feel Cas’s gaze burning holes in your head. “Or, like, something like that. I guess. Whatever, it’s not important.”

The angel opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Jack opened the door with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in hand and a bright smile on his face. He raised the bowl in celebration. “I didn’t burn it this time!” He cheered in victory. You grinned.

“That’s great, Jack! Now get over here, and let’s get this movie started.” You raised your head up just enough so he could sit down before dropping it back down onto his lap. He placed the bowl on the coffee table to free up his hands so he could begin running them through your hair.

You wouldn’t notice the way Castiel’s gaze lingered on you both for the better portion of the movie. You wouldn’t notice the way he picked out each little social cue Dean had taught him about romance all those years ago. You wouldn’t notice the pleased smile that would tug at the corners of his lips when he realized that this was real. But you would notice the way Jack’s face would change with each twist of the plot. You would notice the way the dull light from the TV cast a perfectly cut shadow to define his jawline. You would notice how different he looked in the different color palettes present in different scenes. You would notice how the shadows across his face danced and shifted each time he would lean down to plant a random kiss on your lips, cheek, or forehead. You would always notice these things, because that was Jack Kline’s soul. Every little flicker of the light across his skin, every shadow along the curves of his body, every glint in his eyes, everything you saw was a part of who he is. And in your eyes, who he is is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen.

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