#in case of tense bus rides you know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multi-fandomfuckboy · 2 years

Text

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 4: Deja Vu

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1, ...(Masterlist)... Part 5

A/N: Back at it again with another chapter! I hope you are all ready for some tension! Kind of sad I have to go back to work soon, I won't have time to post as regularly as I have the past week. I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag-list!

Word Count: 2,000

Warnings: Swearing

As August approached its final week, the reality of returning to school truly set in. Your mom gave you money for school supplies and even gave you extra to buy a new outfit. While she was asleep, you slipped the money back into her purse. You never liked spending your mom’s money. It was what had driven you to first start babysitting. She already did so much for you and worked so hard. It didn't feel right.

You hadn’t worked since you had gotten out of the hospital but you had a bit stashed away, just in case. If you needed school supplies or clothes you would be using your own money.

Unfortunately, there were some things that were not open to negotiation with your mom. One of them being your transportation to school. You lived off the school bus route and your mother insisted that the 10 miles was too far for you to bike every day. You didn't bring up the fact that it was never a problem before. You knew that it had more to do with the fact she was terrified something would happen to you again. So instead, you relented. She wanted you to take her car but you insisted that she might need it at home if something happened during the day. The two of you eventually came to the agreement that you would either get a ride from Hopper or Steve.

Around this same time, you would have one of your last conversations with Billy that summer.

You were walking in the neighbourhoods on the west end of Hawkins. You didn't come to this area often. The homes were small and slightly run down, not much better than your own. You were heading to the West Point Lookout, it was outside the quarry and was one of the few places in this area that offered the type of solitude you were looking for. The view was an added bonus.

As you walk, your attention is drawn by the sound of raised voices.

“Fucking piece of shit!” You slow your pace, finding the source of commotion. A little ways ahead of you and across the street you can see Billy and his father. You watch as his father angrily tosses a hammer to the ground. “I need to pick up more studs. I want this porch painted by the time I get back,” You hear him yell, climbing into the camaro and slamming the door. “Or it’s your ass!” he adds, jabbing a finger in Billy's direction before pulling out of the driveway.

You come to a complete stop as you watch the car disappear around the corner. You turn your attention back to Billy as he stands on the patchy grass of the front lawn. He looks so tense you are surprised he doesn't snap in half. In a burst of movement that causes you to jump, Bully lunges forward, swiftly kicking a metal paint can across the yard, letting out a frustrated scream.

You avert your eyes, planning on continuing on your way, hoping to avoid any heated interaction with Billy. But something stops you. Looking back to Billy you watch as he rakes his fingers roughly through his hair, taking a seat on the porch steps. He pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a long drag. He inhales the smoke deeply, like he needs it more than oxygen. You aren't sure, from how far away you are, but you think you see his hands shaking. He looks very alone… and scared.

You take a moment to curse yourself for feeling so empathetic towards a practical stranger. But, the whole situation feels vaguely familiar to you, you can't seem to put your finger on it, like the worst kind of deja vu.

“This is so stupid…” You grumble to yourself before taking a deep breath and begin walking towards Billy. As you approach, his head is down, one hand rubbing the back of his neck the other rolling the lit cigarette between his forefinger and thumb.

“The place looks pretty good.” You comment as you draw closer, approaching the steps from the driveway. Billy’s head snaps up, clearly surprised to no longer be alone. Seeing you at the bottom of the steps his expression quickly shifts into a hard scowl.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, taking another pull of his cigarette. Trying to remain civil, despite his hostile tone, you reply evenly.

“I was on my way to the quarry, I happened to see you and decided I would stop by. Say hi.” You shrug your shoulders, idly putting your hands in your pockets as you stand at the base of the steps. He chuckles without humour, a malicious smile pulling at his lips as he stands. The flash of his teeth as he advances on you reminds you of something dangerous.

“Well that’s just great! The village crazy showing some neighbourly hospitality.” There is a pause as he stands in front of you. He takes another pull off his cigarette exhaling the smoke directly into your face. The smoke stings your eyes making them water but you force yourself not to cough as he leers down at you. His tongue darts out over his teeth, like a wolf baring its fangs. “Now get the fuck off my driveway.” he spits venemously, dropping the cigarette butt inches from your sneakers before stepping between your legs snuffing out the embers with the toe of his boot.

You can barely breathe with how close he is to you. Thankfully, he turns sharply and walks over to a workbench grabbing a new can of paint. You watch his back as he uses a flathead screwdriver to pop the lid off the can, pouring the white paint into a roller basin.

Every rational part of your brain is telling you to walk away, to listen to him and turn around, to go back to your walk, back to your solitude. But, the stupid, kind, and stubborn part of you makes you stay. Walking forward you grab one of the paint rollers off the ground and move to stand next to Billy.

“I want to help.” you say simply. Billy turns to you, anger burning in his eyes.

“I don’t need your damn help, loca! I said get the hell out of here! You have a death wish or something?!” He growls, threateningly taking a step towards you. You try to keep your expression neutral as you meet his eyes. Internally you can feel your heart racing and grip the paint roller with both hands to keep them from shaking.

“According to you? That’s exactly what I have.” you respond coolly. Billy’s eyes scan your face, the tension between the two of you sparking like electricity. After what feels like an eternity Billy finally relents.

“Fine.” he barks, turning to grab the other paint roller. “I don't have time to argue with some crazy bitch.” He grumbles, dipping his roller into the paint. “But if you fuck something up, it’s your ass.” he says, moving to one side of the porch. You quickly follow after him. You can't help but feel a small sense of victory as he explains exactly what needs to be done and how to do it.

Then, the two of you begin. You work in silence for roughly 10 minutes before Billy disappears inside. He emerges with a boombox. Inserting a tape he presses play. You aren’t sure who the artist is, but it's the kind of rock music Hopper claimed was rotting kids' brains. You didn’t mind it.

The two of you work diligently and in an hour you finish the first coat. Deciding to take a short break before starting the second, Billy retrieves two water bottles from the porch, handing one to you as he takes a seat on the steps. You both sit for a moment, drinking your water as you allow the breeze to cool the sweat that covered your skin. It is strangely peaceful.

“Can I ask you something and you give me a serious answer?” Billy’s voice breaks the silence. His question catches you off guard, surprising you. You take a moment to think before responding.

“Only if I can do the same.” You reply. You watch as Billy thinks this over, taking another swig of water before shrugging his shoulders.

“Fair enough, I guess.” he reasons.

“Then shoot.” You say casually. There is a pause before Billy asks his question. Like he’s trying to figure out exactly how to word it.

“I see you walking almost everyday. All over the place. Always someplace different. Sometimes even late at night.” he begins. “Why are you always outside? Are you like… homeless or something?” Your eyes turn to him, expecting it to be a joke but there is no teasing in his tone. Normally you would brush him off, but he had specifically asked for a serious answer. So, you give him one.

“I was in the hospital for 6 months, earlier this year.” you begin to explain. “A lot of that time was spent in a single room.” you can feel his eyes on you as you study the plastic bottle in your hands. “Ever since I came home I can’t stand being inside. The walls feel like they are smothering me. It makes me feel like I can't breath, like I'm… trapped.” You answer honestly, swallowing past the lump that formed in your throat speaking the truth. “So I spend a lot of time outside, walking. It makes me feel calmer somehow.” you pause, waiting for his response.

“I can understand that.” You hear him mumble. You glance at him, his eyes meeting yours. You see the softness in them that you thought you saw the first time you met him. Billy looks away first, clearing his throat.

“Alright, what's your question?” he asks gruffly. You realise you hadn’t really thought of one to ask him in return. So, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“What do you miss most about California?” Billy chuckles lightly, the corners of his lips twisting upwards. It’s the closest thing to a genuine smile you had ever seen on him. It contrasted starkly with his normal wolfish grin.

“The sunsets on the ocean.” He answers almost reflexively. His eyes settle on some far away place in the distance as he elaborates. “Being here is like being in a box. Always surrounded by trees, you can never really see the sun go down. But on the ocean…” He pauses, his mind going to a specific memory. “It’s impossible to tell where the water ends and the sky begins. Sometimes it's so bright it looks like the world is on fire.” There is silence between you as you take in his words. You never expected an answer like that from him. You want to ask him more but his expression darkens again as he comes back to reality. Back to Hawkins.

“Doesn't matter now though.” He states, draining the rest of his water and standing up. “I’m stuck here.” He finishes, tossing the empty bottle aside and picking up his roller again.

You don't press him. You simply pick up your own roller and get back to work. The two of you finish the porch before Neil, Billy’s father, gets back. Neither of you say anything when you finish, you just pick up your bag, sling it over your shoulders and offer Billy a kind smile before turning to walk back down the driveway.

“I’ll see you around, loca.” Billy calls after you.

“See ya!” you respond, turning slightly to send him a wave as you walk away.

You wouldn't see Billy again that summer. He and his father had returned to California to begin moving the rest of their things, now that the house was ready. Or, at least, that’s what you heard around town.

You didn't have much time to dwell on his absence because the next week, classes began.

Part 1, ...(Masterlist)... Part 5

A/N: Hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think, leave a like or a comment! I hope to have the next part posted soon!

Tag-list: @official-starcourt-mall @lem0ns77 @bethii1 @wysteria-arts @fanficfanatic204

567 notes · View notes

nixytea · 2 years

Text

dear bus noona | n.rk

pairing: non-idol! nishimura riki x noona! reader

genre: romance, fluff, letter, bus crush (i know cafe crush is kind of a genre but what about bus seatmates?)

inspired by: my bus rides lol

summary: in which ni-ki writes a letter to the noona who’s on his bus every day :)

wc: 646

warnings: older crush(?), mentions of crying, cat canvas bags, sad books (???i liked it so im not sure if it needs a warning)

dear bus noona:

the first time i met you, you stole took my seat. my favourite seat!!! the window seat. and because you were sleeping, your head blocked my view so i nearly missed my stop >:(( next time sit on the outside okay? but you looked kinda cute when you were asleep…

then i started seeing you on the same bus. every single day. IN THE SAME SEAT. i caught a glimpse of your id while you were putting away your bus pass. that’s how i know you’re a noona. clever, aren’t i? :> but anyway. at least you weren’t asleep the second time. you know noona, you should sleep more, instead of relying on the horrible-smelling coffee you carry around all the time. sometimes you stare at the trees passing by, and i guess it relaxes you because after 5 minutes on the bus you look less tense than when you first get on.

last week, you started carrying a really ugly canvas bag. noona, i love cats too but please stop carrying that bag around the poor kitten’s face is misshapen. the manufacturer of your bag doesn’t do cats justice. seriously, the cat face print looks more like a pig than a cat. return it if you bought it, unless you got it as a gift, which in that case please never bring that out in public again. it’s an eyesore.

the other day, you had a new keychain on your bag zipper, with cha eunwoo’s face on it. does noona find him handsome? are you really a cha eunwoo fangirl? i’m even more good-looking than him what’s your favourite kdrama then? i’ve watched a few of the really popular ones but i don’t really know what else to watch. can noona give me some suggestions? so long as they don’t have cha eunwoo in them.

noona, you looked so funny on the bus last wednesday, crying while reading that english book that i can’t remembering the name of. (was it swing sideways? i don’t know.) i’m sorry for laughing at you. but if i hadn’t laughed you wouldn’t have yelled at me for teasing you! so you should thank me for laughing, ok? don’t be mad at me…i just thought it was cute that you could be so worked up about books. even though i’m not close to noona, just watching you has already told me so much about what you’re like. our chat was really fun, and you’re really fun too.

ahhh, noona, sometimes you’re so cute when i see you. your fashion sense makes me wonder if i’m older or you are. you’re so weird, noona! you’re such an odd person, and i can’t help but want to be friends with you. so dear bus noona, talk to me more ok?

with love,

the kid on the bus who squished your crocheting project by accident ♡

riki sighed, head tilting backwards as he leaned back into his chair. the white light from his desk lamp illuminated his ghostly complexion, and he realised he’d been up far too late for a kid who still had school the next day. twirling his favourite pen absentmindedly, riki reread his letter one more time, before humming in satisfaction when he found no more areas to be corrected. in went the fancy parchment paper, and all that was left on riki’s desk was a lavender-scented manila envelope held in place by a piece of twine. (he’d borrowed konon’s perfume, and he’d make sure sola took that secret to the grave.)

unbeknownst to riki, there was a small smile gracing his lips as he went to bed that night. he needed the sleep, after all tomorrow was going to be a big day. with the flip of a switch, the room was plunged into darkness, but the tiny flame of hope in riki’s heart glowed brighter than anything.

a/n: so…here we are. i just think ni-ki’s adorable. i’m not even older than the beloved maknae so why am i writing about being his noona T-T but anyway! this is my first time writing fluff in a long while so im very rusty but it’s my soft hours so enjoy it while it lasts

336 notes · View notes

canislupus-exe · 2 years

Text

Hours on the Clock | eddie munson

>>gif credit to @/veivir-morte<<

SPOILER FREE

fandom | Stanger Things

character | Eddie Munson

reader | (Henderson) he/him (she ver.)(they ver.)

requested | @/theimaginationgotmegood on tumblr

warnings | mild angst with a happy ending

word count | 3,075

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | Could I request a Henderson reader x Eddie or Steve imagine where he helps him study/apply for something cuz Dustin begged him to and the reader has pretty tensed neck/shoulders and eddie massages it for him. After that they become friends and he keeps on easing his pain, like whenever they are together (cuz he‘s the kid‘s ride) and it‘s just become normal for everyone. But the reader understands a joke from him wrong and becomes insecure, pushes him away until he confronts him and then just fluff maybe? This would be amazing!

editor | @feliscatus-exe

>> back to prev <<

Keep reading

You hummed along to the radio playing faintly in the background. Your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for your little brother and his friends. You couldn't even remember the number of times you told him not to mess around after class so you weren’t waiting in the heat, but every day, without fail, you left long after the final bell rang.

Today was one of those days. Most cars had left the lot and you were stuck there, leaning against the door with only your music to signify how much time had passed. The first side of your cassette had played through and you were halfway through the second. You were gonna rip him a new one.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you could see your little brother rushing out of the front doors with his best friends in tow. You crossed your arms and glared at him, making sure he knew you were pissed. He grimaced once he was close enough.

“Sorry sorry sorry! I know we’re late but it was an emergency!” He pleaded his case. You rolled your eyes and opened the door, getting in and swapping out the cassette so you didn’t have to do it while you were driving.

“Get in before I leave all of you to take the bus home.” You said. The three teenage boys scrambled to get in the car, Dustin taking shotgun while Mike and Lucas got in the back. Once everyone was buckled in, you started the engine and pulled out of the school's parking lot.

“So please enlighten me on what was so important that you had me waiting out here for…” You paused to check your watch. “47 minutes.”

“We were talking with Eddie about the hellfire club,” Dustin replied. You raised your eyebrows.

“I thought hellfire was on Fridays.” You said. Dustin sighed and dropped his head against the headrest.

“Yeah well, there might not be any hellfire if Eddie doesn’t bring up his English grade. The stupid principal is threatening to shut down the whole club if he doesn’t get his act together.” Dustin said. You could hear how upset he was by the influx of his words. You frowned, knowing how much this club meant to him.

“(Y/n), aren’t you in English honors?” Mike asked. Your eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror so you could see his face.

“Yes?” You questioned. Dustin looked over his shoulder at Mike and then back at you.

“And you tutor on the side for money!” He exclaimed. You sighed, seeing exactly where he was going with this.

“I tutor freshmen on the side for money so they're better prepared for their classes, not seniors who flunked two years in a row.” You replied. Lucas laughed.

“He’s got you there Dustin.”

“I don’t know why you’re laughing Lucas. We’re all screwed if Eddie isn’t at a D by the end of the month.” He said, whipping his head to glare at his friend, but he quickly turned back to you.

“(Y/n), please. I’ll do anything. Consider all your chores for the next month done, alright?” He pleaded. You raised your eyebrows and glanced at him from the side of your eyes.

“Seriously? It’s that important that I tutor this guy?” You ask. Dustin nodded feverishly.

“Yes.” He deadpanned. You sighed.

“Alright. I’ll fit him into my schedule. But you better hold up your end of the deal.” You said as you flicked his hat downward. He smiled.

“I will, I promise. And thank you.”

>><<

You sighed and checked your watch, wondering how long you’d have to wait out here for the door to be opened. You lift your fist, knuckles centimeters away, ready to knock for the fourth time when it swings open. You backed up, slightly startled from how quickly it happened.

“Your Henderson’s brother, right?” A man with long hair asked. Eddie Munson. You’d seen him around school but never opted to talk to him.

“In the flesh.” You replied. He stepped out of the frame so you could walk in, to which you hesitantly did so.

“We can sit here. Thought it’d be less awkward than sitting on my bed.” He said with a laugh. You nodded and did as he told you, opening your backpack and gathering all the materials you needed. He pulled the second chair out and leaned his elbow on the table, watching your every move. You glanced up at him tentatively.

“Um… Dustin tells me your failing-“

“Horribly. Crashing and burning in fact. Which is where you come in Henderson-“

“(Y/n). My name is (Y/n).” You reply. He smiles.

“(Y/n) Henderson. Pleasure. As I was saying, I’m in dire need of assistance. In fact, the hellfire club depends on it.”

“Way to put the pressure on.” You said sarcastically as you stretched out your arms and rolled your head. You groaned and gently massaged your neck, looking down at the sheets of paper spread out on the table. You sighed and shuffled through them, finding it hard to concentrate with the horrid knot in your muscles.

“Something wrong?” Eddie asked. You looked up at him and gave a halfhearted laugh.

“Yeah sorry. It’s… It’s nothing.” You reply, waving him off. You doubted he wanted to listen to you talk about your problems.

“No no please, enlighten me. I mean, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together so we might as well share our deepest darkest secrets.” He said as he leaned his chin on the palm of his hand. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he spoke. It was odd but… charming.

“Well, it’s certainly no deep dark secret. I’ve just been really tense lately. Dustin and his friends all rely on me for rides everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I drop them all off at their houses after school, I take them to the arcade, I drive them all to each other’s houses. I’m basically a professional chauffeur getting paid in annoyance by my brother. Don’t get me wrong, I love Dustin but I spend way too much time with him. Hell, I’ve never even picked up the DnD handbook and I probably know enough to DM a campaign on my own.” Once you started talking everything just seemed to pour out. You had no idea how badly you needed to get this off your chest.

“And how does that make you feel?” He said, staring at you intently, which only made you laugh harder.

“Oh come on. I pour my heart out to you and you say that. What a dick.” You reply. He smiles.

“You’re right, I do apologize my lord. However could a mere court jester such as myself make it up to the likes of you?” He asked. You snickered, but soon after felt another twinge of pain shoot down your neck and across your shoulders. You groaned again, pressing your fingers into the places it felt the tightest.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a masseuse as well as a jester, would you?” You asked, running with whatever bit he had going. He shrugged.

“I dabble.” He replied. You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him.

“You’re serious?”

“These fingers aren’t just good for playing guitar you know. Let me give it a shot.” He said, wiggling his fingers at you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair.

“I-I mean if you want to give it a go, by all means.” You replied. You couldn’t help but ask yourself how you managed to get here.

He seemed to gladly take the invitation, standing up from his chair and walking behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, gently pushing his palms into your tensed muscles. He repeated the motions several times before moving on to your neck. His fingertips were calloused from what you could only assume was years of playing guitar, but still shocking gentle. And even more shockingly, they were relaxing you. He was working through all the knots with such care that you felt like you were melting into his hands.

He continued to massage you for a few more minutes, alternating between your shoulders and your neck until all your pain was gone. You hadn’t felt this relaxed in… God you couldn’t even remember. He finished with a gentle pat on your back, taking his seat across from you once again.

“Better?” He asked. You chuckled before sitting up straight.

“Um… Yeah actually. A-A lot better. I wasn’t expecting that.” You replied with a laugh. He places his hand over his heart, feigning offense.

“Such little faith in me.” He said with a smile. You shook your head.

“We’ve already burned through a quarter of our time together and I haven’t even started explaining anything. You’re a bad influence, Eddie Munson.” You said.

“In the flesh.”

>><<

You had been tutoring Eddie every weekday for the past two weeks, and his performance in class seemed to improve drastically. He asked to keep having sessions with you despite this, wanting to prepare as much as he could for the test that would be a significant chunk of his grade. You agreed, on the condition that he would continue giving you those massages.

And yes, you knew how weird it seemed, but you had been in such a better mood ever since Eddie started getting rid of your pain. So much so that Dustin confronted you, saying that you’d been acting weird and “goo-goo eyes over Eddie”. What did that twerp know anyways?

You knocked on the trailer door, wringing your hands over the strap of your bag in nervous anticipation. Why were you nervous? You’d spent so much time with him that you’d think you would’ve gotten over that by now. But this time around, the nervousness was different. Not like the first day when you were nervous because you were in a guy’s house who you never talked to before and was rumored to do dodgy shit, but a kind that made your heart thump loudly and your stomach do summersaults faster than a gymnast trying to show off. The kind that made you come up with weird analogies such as that one.

“(Y/n), you’re early,” Eddie said as he opened the door to let you inside. You smiled and took your bag off, setting it where you normally did.

“Yeah, one of my regulars canceled cause he was sick so you get me for a little longer today.” You replied.

“Sick with a fever or sick of you? Cause depending on which we may have something in common.” He said with a laugh. You frowned and looked at your feet. Did he really just say that he was sick of you? You pushed around a piece of carpet with the toe of your shoe, too embarrassed to look up, but in doing so you missed a key component of his joke. He took a swig of cough syrup, considering he’d been battling off a cold for the better half of a couple of days.

You sat at the small table for two in the living room area of his trailer, keeping your eyes glued downward. You heard a shuffle of feet and the movement of the chair as Eddie sat down across from you. He placed a cup of orange juice down before raising his eyebrows.

“Earth to (Y/n)? You didn’t check out on me did you?” He asked. You quickly glanced up before nodding. You didn’t know how you were going to salvage this.

“Oh yeah. I just remembered I was supposed to take Dustin out tonight though. A brother bonding thing our mom is making us do.” You said, grabbing your bag from the floor. Eddie raised his eyebrows, taken aback by your sudden declaration. You began to walk toward his door to let yourself out.

“O-oh, really? Alright. Yeah, no worries. I’ll see you tomorrow though, right?” He asked. You paused, a twinge of pain plucking your heartstrings. Why did he want to see you if he was so sick of you? But you didn’t have the guts to confront him.

“Y-Yeah… tomorrow.” You replied, walking out the door as soon as the words fell from your mouth. Eddie watched you get in your car and drive off. He always watched you leave, but this time it was different. It felt different. And maybe that different feeling was the reason that tomorrow never came.

Sure, the sun rose, the way it always does for tomorrow, but not for the tomorrow that he was supposed to see you. That day, 6:00 rolled around and you weren’t there, you weren’t rushing in late at 6:15, and you never called to cancel at 6:30. By 7:00 he was dialing Henderson’s number himself, because at 6:45 he’d convinced himself something terrible happened to you.

Your mom answered and apparently, you weren’t tutoring anyone anymore. Which was fine, he just thought you’d gotten close enough to tell him that yourself. When he asked to talk to you, she said you were busy showering. He leaned his head back and sighed in relief. The confirmation that you were safe was all he needed to be at ease.

“Okay, thank you, Ms. Henderson. Can you tell him to call me when he’s out? I have something important to tell him.” He asked. She said she’d relay the message to you and that was that. 8:00. 9:00. 10:00. 11:00. 12:00. And by 1:00 in the morning, he fell asleep by the phone, waiting on that call back that also never came.

Eddie found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. He knew you were okay. He knew that for whatever reason you told your mom to lie about your tutoring. He knew you were avoiding him on purpose. The one thing he didn’t know, was why.

Everything was fine one day and then totally fucked the next. He’d found himself falling for Henderson’s older brother and then suddenly you hate his guts? I mean, what were the odds of that happening?

He couldn’t take it anymore. It had only been a week without you and he was going stir crazy. Even if you told him you wanted him dead, he had to hear it for himself. No more listening to his thoughts running a mile a minute, coming up with the most outlandish reasons for your distance. He was going to get to the bottom of it and he wasn’t gonna give you the chance to use a lousy excuse like showering to get out of it.

He ducked behind the lockers, leaning against the wall that was ever so conveniently adjacent to the dark room. You passed it every day on your way to English, and he was going to have that conversation with you if it killed him.

Finally, he heard your voice, dropping things off at your locker and chatting with your friends. They went their separate ways to their respective classes and he heard the clang of the door. You were walking his way. He checked to make sure the coast was clear (his reputation was already bad, no need to make it worse) and once he deemed that it was, he grabbed your wrist to pull you into the dark room.

“What the fuck!?” You shouted.

“Shhh! It’s just me!” He replied. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Eddie? W-What are you doing? And where’s the damn light?” You asked, fumbling around the wall to search for a switch.

“No no no! Don’t do that! If you turn on the lights you’ll fuck up the photos and then the whole news club will kick my ass.” He whisper shouted. You laughed quietly at this, to which he sighed in response.

“You know I’ve missed that laugh.” He said. You felt your face heat up with embarrassment, glad it was shrouded by the darkness.

“Why have you been avoiding me (Y/n)?” He asked, his voice softer than you were used to. You frowned and looked at your feet.

“Last time I went to your house you said you were sick of me so I just… I didn’t think you’d care if I stopped showing up.” You replied, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from whatever he was going to say.

“What? Sick of you? Why would I ever say that?”

“When I told you that my 5:00 canceled cause he was sick you said he was sick of me and that you had it in common with him! And don’t tell me I’m making anything up cause I remember it clear as day. I cried about it for hours when I got home.”

“Woah woah woah, slow down. I remember that too. But that wasn’t the full joke. I said ‘sick with a fever or sick of you? Cause depending on which we might have something in common.’” He replied. You rolled your eyes.

“Exactly.”

“(Y/n), I was also battling a fever. I drank medicine right after I said that to show you I was feeling sick. I’ve been coughing like crazy. Can’t you hear it in my raspy ass voice?” He asked with a laugh. You paused for a second, thinking over the sound of his voice and what he’d just said. Did you ignore him all week over a misunderstood joke?

“You were really sick?” You asked, almost too scared to hear the answer.

“Yes! You can even ask my uncle. I could never get sick of you. Shit, seeing you every day was the first thing I’ve ever looked forward to more than Hellfire days or Corroded Coffin performances.” He replied. You felt your heart start to thump faster once again.

“W-wait seriously? That’s so corny.” You said. You couldn’t see it, but Eddie’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

“You’re the one who cried all night cause you thought I said I was sick of you!” He retorted. You laughed before wrapping your arms around him, which he was taken aback by.

“I’ll never ignore you again Eddie Munson.” You said. He smiled down at you fondly, despite knowing you couldn’t see him. He wrapped his arms around you and leaned his chin on your head.

“You better keep that promise, (Y/n) Henderson.”

And you did.

96 notes · View notes

the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Gentile. | Chapter 20

Upon returning to Capernaum, Quintus finds out about your current state.

Chapter list

Capernaum is like a scar on the landscape, at least to you. It appears on the horizon and grows larger each passing minute, and your gut coils with nervousness. A few miles before the gates, Atticus instructs you under the canopy with a fleeting kiss onto the corner of your mouth. You are afraid that it is the final one you’ll receive in a while and you wish it would have lasted longer, coupled with whispered promises and a few yearning caresses, but alas, your proximity to the village makes it unwise to linger.

Still, you sneak a hand through the opening between the back of the driver’s seat and the cart to touch his lower back, and the contact makes your eyes water. If this is the final time you’ll feel him for an undisclosed amount of time, you want to bask in it. “Atticus,” your voice wavers as it teeters on the edge of fully breaking, “This can’t be it.”

He sighs and takes your hand in his, but the way you are sitting makes it impossible for him to properly bring it to his lips. Instead he squeezes apologetically before releasing it as a convoy draws close, your approach noticed from the walls of Capernaum.

“This isn’t it.” he assures you, “I won’t be gone, I promise. We’ll find a way.”

You trust his word yet fear that he’ll be mistaken due to unforeseen circumstances. Only now, you realise that you’ve got no clue on what has been going on in Capernaum lately, nor do you know if the few faces you are familiar with around there are still in good health.

“Hail Caesar,” Atticus greets the men on horseback, who start their routine procedure. You sit up straighter and try to not look so miserable, even though your heart feels heavy and your eyes are filled with unshed sorrow.

A few soldiers whom you do not recognise ride behind the wagon in your field of view. You take a book into your lap to hide your stomach, even though from said angle there is no way that they’ll see, and act like you’re occupying yourself with reading, though your attention drifts to Atticus.

“Cohorte,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear yet keeping your distance in case any of the soldiers would catch onto your voice. “Thank you for escorting me back.”

Atticus huffs and you see his smile in the way his jaw tenses slightly.

“You’re very welcome, my lady. I’ll go with you into your husband’s office so that we can… Debrief. Both of us need information on what has been going on around here, so that’s more than enough of an excuse to bring you inside.”

You hum in agreement and flip the page, but your book is far from interesting when the cart drives into the village. You scoot to the very end to look around. Environmentally, it is not very different from a few months back. The scent that hangs in the air remains the same, yet there is a certain tension in the air that makes the hairs of your neck stand on end.

The people of Capernaum are a different story. They seem to be on edge at the sight of the convoy escorting the wagon you’re in. A little girl crawls into her father’s leg to hide from the prying eyes of the soldiers. Somewhere, a baby cries and an immediate jolt of urgency surges through you, though it fades just as fast.

An all-too-familiar road appears to you, one that leads up to Quintus’ office. The wagon comes to a halt and you hear Atticus thank the soldiers before dismissing them.

He helps you down. You hug Atticus’ dark cloak a little tighter around your thin tunic – you only just realise what Quintus must think of seeing you in this – and turn to the door. Inhaling deeply, you prepare to head in, dreading the moment you’ll look him in the eye.

The secretary is still the same man yet you can’t manage to remember his name. He gives you a polite bow but speaks no word when you enter. Dark circles tug underneath his eyes, speaking of eventful days and sleepless nights. You can only imagine what Quintus’ mood will be like, but you are about to find out.

It’s stuffy in his chamber and it reeks of incense. The candles are lit and he has turned his back towards you, yet the sight of him takes your breath away in the most negative way of the word. The magistrate seems utterly agitated, with tense shoulders and a jaw that cannot stop flexing by how hard his teeth are grinding together. You clear your throat and he turns as if taking high offence to your presence, but when he sees it is you, something unreadable falls over his features.

“Hello, darling.” are his first words to you. Strangely soft, as if he cares. “Cohortes.” You adjust the cloak and swallow thickly. Behind you, you can sense Atticus inhale sharply.

Quintus steps closer when you don’t move to take a seat. “Hello Quintus.” you greet him. “It’s been some time.”

He huffs and smiles, halting in front of you. Your husband reaches forward to tuck some hair behind your ear and he cups your cheek, attempting to find your gaze. Upon catching it, he leans down to press his lips to yours without awaiting your approval. The cohorte turns away from the scene unfolding so close to him and you find yourself forced to kiss Quintus back, putting a hand on his shoulder, both to feed the illusion that you want to touch him and to be able to push him back should it become too much.

“I’ve missed you, deeply.” Quintus murmurs when he pulls away – luckily – and you hum in response, an ambiguous sound that has no true meaning in the light of the conversation. “How were things at Herod’s court?”

“Things were good.”

“You definitely seem like you’ve been eating well.”

You almost take offence to the comment, especially since it comes from him , but you decide to not let it get to you.

“How are things around here?”

“Well, things have been… A little chaotic, but I’ve got it under control right now. Otherwise I wouldn’t have called you back home to me, hm?” He smiles as if he is doing you a favour and plucks at the fabric around your shoulders. “What are you wearing? Doesn’t this belong to Atticus?”

He turns his gaze to the cohorte, who is still standing a little awkwardly at the side of the room. It takes everything in your entire being to not turn to face him, for the sight of his dark eyes would be the most comforting thing to see at this moment.

“I spilled oil on my tunic, and it stained my palla and stole as well.” you quickly tell him. “I only had a very thin substitute on me so the Cohortes handed me his cloak lest I catch a cold.”

Tilting his head slightly, Quintus pulls a face, one that balances between humour and discontent. “Oh, that’s very polite of him. Thank you for bringing her back to me, Cohortes, in one piece. If you don’t mind, we’ve got some catching up to do, so…” His hand gestures to the exit, but Atticus isn’t keen on leaving so soon.

“Actually, Quintus, you and I also have some catching up to do. Fill us in at the same time to save yourself the hassle, why don’t you?”

Mere minutes in one another’s presence since months has already prompted the two men in their usual position against one another. Even though Quintus had confided in Atticus to escort you to Herod’s court and back again, when it comes to politics and power, he seems distrustful. The dynamic is ever tense.

“Very well.” Quintus sighs at last, deciding that putting up a fight will only take more time and then some. “Have a seat, darling,” he points you to the chaise longue, which is still in its usual position. You do as he says and shrug off the cloak to give back to Atticus in a bit, even though you’d rather keep it so that you could secretly take a whiff of his scent whilst upstairs in your study; you’ve missed that little room more than anything else in this city.

Atticus leans against one of the pillars and crosses his arms. It takes a lot to not stare at him and instead direct your attention to your husband, who turns to his desk. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he pipes up, grabbing a small wooden box from underneath a stack of letters. The Praetor brushes over to you and holds it out for you to take.

You open it and see – “Your favourite,” Quintus explains, “Sugared figs. I know how much you like them, so consider it a little welcome-home present.” You gulp as you stare at the sweets, but something seems so off about them. It’s not the way they look, but the way they smell , and you force yourself to not throw up on the spot at how sickly sweet they seem to be.

“Thank you,” you manage to tell him before snapping the box shut, “I’ll enjoy them later today.”

He gives you a small smile and nods in reply before inhaling sharply and turning on his work-face again. Atticus is chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at the box of candied fruits in your lap. You quickly put it to the side and nervously fiddle with the end of his cloak that lays on the small sofa.

“Where to start…” Quintus sighs to himself, “Well, when you left, things were… Tense around here, to say the least. I rounded up my men to do a good search around all the houses in the city. During this thorough—”

“Can you also tell us the abbreviated version?” Atticus interrupts, “We have been travelling for days, the lady must be exhausted.” You give him an almost invisible smile.

Quintus narrows his eyes and looks from him to you and back to the cohorte again before resuming his story.

“After investigating, interrogating and other means of persuasion, we dealt with the people whom we found out to have connections to Zealot-activity – before you inquire, Atticus, we did it cleanly, and with that I mean that Rome won’t trace it back to us as violence since we can put it in our ledgers as a potential terrorist threat – and then we tied up loose ends. So, we were pretty certain that we gave those Jews a good scare, right? Ought to keep them in check. But we must have misjudged some of them. This lunatic preacher showed up on the outskirts, ranting and raving about prophecy and a… What do they believe in again? A Messiah?”

Atticus shrugs. “And?”

“Nothing.”

“So, what is your point?”

Quintus raises an eyebrow. “That we must remain alert lest a new group of extremists throws this forsaken place into more disarray than it already is. Taxation being one of them. Since we’ve been focusing on this threat for a few months now, we’ve grown lazy when it comes to us levying tax.” Your husband plucks an olive from the bowl on his desk and pops it into his mouth, “The only good thing about this place is still the food.”

“Can I be of any assistance here, still?” the marshall wants to know.

Yes, you think to yourself, stay here with me. Kiss me senseless right in front of Quintus, show him to whom my heart belongs. You hope that your thoughts will somehow be transferred to Atticus across the room.

Shaking his head, your husband turns to you. “No, you just go your own way.”

“In that case, I’ll report to Pilate for my next objective. I’ve got a feeling it will have to do with Zealot activity, so it is plausible that I’ll be returning here soon to gather intelligence.”

Your heart flutters. It’s an excuse – of course it is an excuse – but it’s a promise as well. One to come and see you. He strides over to you to grab his cloak and drapes it over his arm, giving you a small bow. “My lady.”

“Thank you for your services, Cohortes.” you say.

“It’s what I do. Hail Caesar.” He nods at your husband, “Quintus,” he states as a greeting before brushing out of the room with a final glance your way. Your heart immediately feels heavy.

The moment he’s gone, Quintus claps his hands together with a characteristic chuckle. “Well then, your return has certainly brightened my day.” He pivots to you, slowly approaching you on your chaise longue, and you have to resist the urge to cower and put a palm protectively on your stomach.

Instead of doing what you had feared he’d do, he holds out his hand to help you up. You reluctantly take it to be hoisted to your feet and he puts his hands on your arms to balance you, nearly standing chest to chest.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers. The feeling of his breath on your face makes you want to flinch. Something akin to genuinity flickers in his eyes and it is the softest way he has looked at you in a long time. Cupping your cheek, he inspects your face, giving you a smile that is almost kind.

“I’ve missed you as well,” you lie.

“You’ve put on some weight, haven’t you?” He draws the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and you thickly swallow, eyelids fluttering in discomfort. “You’re… Different.”

“It was the food.” you tell him. “I ate things I’m not necessarily used to.”

Quintus hums. “How were the safety measures there? Have you… Have you spoken to Silvius Gemelius?”

“I have.” you say.

He grins. “And?”

“He seemed pretty displeased to see me there.”

“Of course,” Quintus sighs, “He’s just jealous that I’ve risen above him. And of course, I’ve got a more beautiful wife than him. The only thing that is still missing is an heir. Which reminds me.” He leans forward and brushes his lips against the side of your neck, making you tense up, “I’ll be coming home early tonight. Make sure to tell the servants that dinner should be ready on time.”

You close your eyes though not out of enjoyment and disgust coils in your gut.

Your husband hadn’t truly missed you – other than physically that was, just to look after his own needs – “How’s your fertile window?” he queries, even though you’re certain that he’ll have his way regardless of what you answer.

“I don’t know.” you say.

“In that case, we’ll lay tonight. Take a bath and put on something clean.”

You gladly step away and head home. It’s strange to be back here. The sight of the bedroom abhors you, especially now that you’ve experienced what it feels like to be properly loved for who you are.

Tears sting behind your eyes at the scent of the sheets when you take a seat.

You could have been near the border of Syria at this point.

No, you can’t be selfish.

You strip down to freshen up, awaiting the evening with a dark pit inside your gut.

Despite your long absence, Quintus doesn’t show any empathy that night.

As he has his way with you, your mind is completely with Atticus. Where could he be at the moment? Did he head back south, more westward, to Jerusalem? Is he still around here for the night, in Capernaum? Is he thinking about you? You hope that he is, and that he can somehow sense your current misery, even though you know it would be silly to hope for such a thing.

Nothing Quintus does comes remotely close to the way you feel with the cohorte. There is no love behind his actions, no affection, only kisses that are void of true vulnerability.

Your husband leaves you feeling empty. He huffs and attempts to catch his breath whilst you draw the covers up to your chin, hoping he hasn’t noticed the swell of your stomach.

You want to crawl out of your own skin, to not feel defiled by his proximity. How could you ever be the same now that you have found the man you have always prayed for?

“Taxes are going unpaid.” Quintus randomly pipes up, a comment that has nothing to do with the situation, nor prompted by anything you said. It seems that his short spell of affection – no matter how self-centred – has twisted back into his usual vicious chagrin in a random moment of clarity. “We’re so far behind. Pilate is going to have my head for this. If I don’t sort things out before–”

You don’t respond, instead roll on your side, back turned to from him.

“I’m talking to you, (Y/n). Don’t be rude.”

“I’ve had a long day, Quin.” you reply. “I’m exhausted.”

His eyes prickle in the back of your head and he hums. “Sure. Go to sleep, then. You’re lucky that I’ve missed you.” His words make you shudder unpleasantly.

You don’t follow his instructions. Instead, you lay for hours with your eyes wide open, your mind raging with a thousand conflicting thoughts.

A relatively slow fortnight passes. Morning sickness and other pregnancy-related ailments bring suspicion to Quintus’ already worked up psyche. He’s on edge more than he was upon your return, constantly observing you whenever you sit with him in his office, reading your books or writing on your poetry.

“What is the deal with you,” he queries one morning, “You’re continuously ill. Your face seems… A little shiny, but you’re not sunburnt. You haven’t even touched the figs I’ve given you, even though you usually love these. Perhaps it’s time to fetch a doctor.”

“No!” you immediately cry out, too quickly to be taken as an innocent refusal, and you sigh at the way his eyebrows shoot up in question.

“Well,” he huffs, “That came out very passionately. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

Feeling your throat tighten, you thickly swallow in an attempt to get rid of the sensation. “No,” you lie, “Just that… I’ve had these same things going on whilst in Machaerus, and I went to the physician there, who told me that it is just the recent stress that I’ve been going through.”

Quintus lets out a small laugh. “You? Stress? My dear, if I recall correctly, you’ve had a few very relaxing months at the court. There was no work you had to carry out, there was plenty of good food, you even made a friend.”

A lie forms on your tongue and you spit it out before you can fully realise it has poised itself there. “I was busy worrying about you back there. Constantly.”

Something in his gaze softens. “Truly? You’re not just saying that to distract me from the matter, are you?”

Yes. “No.” you tell him with feigned earnesty. “How can I be calm if I know that my husband is out there, fighting off a bunch of possibly dangerous terrorists? Especially seeing that the previous Praetor of Capernaum got assassinated, how can I possibly enjoy my time halfway across the country?”

The tears that have formed in your eyes are not caused by the severity of your words towards him, but at the reminder of how you had felt about Atticus’ wellbeing that whole time. There had been days that you hadn’t even thought about Quintus, but you leave that in the middle. Instead, you look at him teary-eyed, hoping that he’d let it go.

“That’s really kind of you to say, my love,” he states – how can the nickname sound so utterly frosty – and takes an olive from the small bowl that stands on his desk. “But you’ve been back for half a month now. Don’t you think that would make it a little concerning?”

Something strange stirs within you.

Did he actually care?

“Are you suffering from an illness?” he asks, “Have you been praying lately?”

No. “Of course.”

He hums and steeples his fingers together underneath his chin, far from convinced. “I’ll call one over regardless. Gaius!”

The centurion in question walks in and your heartbeat rises inside your chest at the realisation that your husband might find out about your state sooner than you had hoped. “I’m fine, Quin, really.” you try, but he ignores you as he gives Gaius instructions.

You stand in unison with your husband, which prompts a short yet intense staredown between the two of you. “You’ve been hiding something from me, (Y/n),” Quintus mutters with a dangerously quiet voice, “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“If you trusted me, you would have given me some time to find the right words.”

“You know I’m not a patient man. Besides, who says I trust you?”

Your throat runs dry. “I’m your wife.” you tell him, even though he has all the right to be suspicious of you, for you have indeed done things that should make him distrustful. The very subject of this discord, for example, is not even his .

“I’ll trust you once the doctor says you’re alright.” he states. “I don’t like it when you keep things from me, (Y/n). Those dogs not paying their taxes are enough of a pain as is. Don’t make this difficult for the both of us.”

Rage suddenly burns hot inside your chest. You want to scream, to yell at him that you’re not his property and that you’re carrying a child who is not his property either, nor of his descent, but you bite your tongue and take the situation as it is. “Fine.” you whisper, “Find out for yourself.”

Gaius bursts into the chamber with the physician hot on his heels. “Dominus, the doctor is here.” the centurion announces, “I urged him to come with me at once.”

“This better be a matter of life and death,” the doctor states. “I had to cut short a procedure for this.” Just now, you notice that his tunic is stained with blood and other fluids you’d rather not know the origin of. Quintus gives him one of his characteristic grins and tilts his head slightly, gesturing towards you.

“It’s for my wife.”

“Is she dying?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Quintus says with a roll of his eye, “If she was, I would have called over a priest or coroner instead. Find out what is going on with her right this instant or I am going to make the lives of you and your family very, very miserable.”

The Jewish man gulps and nods, taking a sharp breath.

You close your eyes in shame of not speaking up sooner so that the doctor wouldn’t have had to come here, shaking your head as he approaches you. “No, no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Why not?” Quintus snaps.

“Because I’m pregnant.”

The silence that falls is deafening.

“Truly?” Quintus breathes. There is an edge to his voice that you’ve never heard of him before and you aren’t sure if you like it. “Are you really?”

You slowly nod and give the doctor an apologetic look, but he doesn’t reciprocate your kindness – he has no reason to, for you’ve kept him from someone who actually needed him and you’re a Roman to make matters worse.

“Since when? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He looks at you seeming almost offended. When you don’t reply, he narrows his eyes at Gaius and the doctor. “You two are dismissed. Get out.”

You wait until they leave the room. The physician mutters something under his breath in a language you don’t understand, but it doesn’t sound positive.

“I was going to tell you.” you sigh, which isn’t a lie, “I was just looking for the right moment.”

The Praetor’s gaze oddly eases into something nearly endearing as his eyes flicker to your belly. Slowly, he approaches you.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

An apology.

The first genuine offering of remorse you’ve ever heard from him. For a second, you stand dumbfounded in your attempts to find a proper response.

“It’s alright.” you whisper. It truly isn’t, but then, nothing about this relationship is.

He clears his throat, finding your gaze. Quintus’ dark eyes hold a glimmer that you had never expected to be part of his repertoire before although it is bleak compared to the way Atticus regards you, and he takes your hand in his to kiss your fingers. Then, his grin grows and he barks a laugh.

“I… I can barely believe it! How did you find out?”

“In Machaerus, I had the same symptoms. I think I’m about… Sixteen weeks now, if I’ve counted correctly.”

Quintus slips his bottom lip in between his teeth and smiles broadly. “Four months! Oh, wow! Our prayers have been answered! And to think that I was considering taking a second wife if you didn’t conceive within half a year!”

The confession comes as a surprise – no, as a curse – and you feel all colour drain from your face. Quintus doesn’t notice and instead embraces you tightly, pulling you against him. You awkwardly drape your arms around his neck, blood rushing inside your ears.

“An heir! My heir! Oh, I hope that it’s going to be a boy!” He breaks away from the hug and you stand there frozen as he puts a hand on your tummy, letting out a sound of delight, “He is going to be such a powerful magistrate! Going to take after his father, ha!”

You force a smile on your features and nod, stepping back in slight puzzlement about the sudden revelation about Quintus’ earlier intentions. “I-If you don’t mind, I’m… I’m very tired, and I want to—”

“Oh, of course. Of course, my love. Go home, take your rest. I’ll make sure to be there as soon as I can. I’m so content, my darling.”

You huff a feigned sound of amusement and cradle the small bump before backing off, swallowing thickly. “I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

Quintus moves forward to keep you for a second so that he can kiss you, but you’re already gone.

Rushing home, you feel your eyes prickle with unshed tears.

Quintus was going to get himself a second wife.

This can’t be – your pregnancy, it has to be a curse.

You hurry to your sitting room and fall down face-first on the sofa, burying your face in your hands. With quaking shoulders, you wail into a cushion, wanting to scream out to whatever gods are out there listening to you how they could have possibly done this to you.

Had you not been pregnant, Quintus would have taken a second wife.

He would have discarded you. Forgotten about you. It would have been your only way out, a solution that you had never even considered up until this moment, and now, it vanishes into thin air, taking all hope away.

You sniffle and sit up, facing the statuette of the goddess of fertility that still stands on your shelf. You had forgotten her name before, but it pops up in your head, and you grit your teeth.

“Have I not suffered enough, Juno?” you spit at her, “Is this what I get in return for not praying, for not being faithful to my abusive and repulsive husband, huh?!”

She stares back at you, unmoving, with her judgemental eyes.

“Is this what you want?!”

You lash out at it, hurling it across the room with a cry of agony. Colliding with the wall, it clatters to the floor with a deafening sound.

Next chapter Chapter list

#the chosen #the chosen x reader #x reader #reader insert #gentile #atticus x you #the chosen atticus #atticus x reader #atticus aemilius pulcher #atticus #quintus #angel studios

7 notes · View notes

gwydionmisha · 1 year

Text

Personal: New GenZ Friend Arrived Safe

I had to stay up for a Thursday morning appointment to meet my new Doctor. He seems nice and we vibe okay so far. We just focused on blood work today. I'm going to go back once a month for the next three months to focus on one area each since my case file is basically the collected works of Thomas Aquinas in size and even with my beloved previous GP's help, no one can get up to speed all at once. It turned out we'd missed a test a couple of weeks ago and I needed an extra vial taken today. All of this took the whole morning for obvious reasons.

Which would have been fine except a very nice addition to the friemnd group was arriving today and the ride to go pick them up fell through. Techie Millenial called me and rightly so, so we went to pick them up. This is the person who visted around last Diwali and fitted in right away. Seriously, they are a delight and weren't safe in their state any more. Trans Overground railroad got them out and they have an apartment with a roomate I am told is cool lined up and are staying with Tecie and Art millenial for a week until they can move into new the new digs.

The problem is the pain situation has been escalating to the point where Extreme pain wakes me and then i have to figure out how to roll over with only 2/3rds of my body working and the "I just got run over by a bus" level pain involved in shifting positions, which does not make for restful sleep. This is the kind of pain able bodied people would be in the hospital for, but here I am at home trying to shuffle around and somehow feed myself and beasts. (hospital would be no good. I don't want a drug seeking note in my file and the kind of medication this would require would make me trip balls. It's a big risk, because people in my family with this reaction to opiods also respond this way to anti-psychotics. I've never tried them, but you get someone with extreme paranoia, another side effect of the opiod reaction, who is having an obvious psychotic break, they are apt to give them anti-psychotics, which is a viscious circle. It was lucky they summoned me to the east Coast my Mother's second to last time in the ICU or they would have shipped her to a psch ward instead of tapering her meds, at which point she was fine except for the whole lungs failing thing. New doctor wouldn't know to stop them and they might not listen to Techie Millenial who is Officially in Charge if I can't speak for myself. Note to self: Next month explain my weird inherited response to opiods to New Doctor). Before you start suggesting things, trust me, I've tried all the mitigation I can reasonably do. What I really need is accupuncture which I can't afford. Instead i just have to endure thisand keep chipping away until i'm back to my usual pain scale 6-7 which is a functional level of pain. This in not.

Bonus points? My right front break started to grind while I was taking Techie and new GenZ back to their place. I have no money except the gas money they slipped me and an emergancy tener for meds. (I have my food OTC left and no EBT even.) I've scheduled with honest Mechanic for May 1st. I can already see next month's bill money draining away, but that is a next month problem. Sigh.

Today would have been a great day to order delivery food. Instead I stood weeping in the kitchen because there was an electrical issue and the air fryer wouldn't work. (Squirrel solved it).

I am so glad we got GenZ out of that hell state though. They never knew how tense and constantly braced for attack they were until they came here. I know that feeling. My whole body used to relax whenever I crossed the Rockies and the PNW has felt like home since I first stepped off the train all those decade ago.

#Personal

2 notes · View notes

mr-squiggley-poufs · 1 year

Text

Dude I hate the bus sometimes

I had to take the bus to school because my dad needed our truck. Usually, this is fine. I took the bus to school all of last year, it's fine, I'm used to it.

However, today I had to bring my full-sized guitar to school. It's in a hard case. Naturally, I had it in the seat next to me until a stop where a lot of people get on, including one of my friends. At that time, I put my backpack on my lap and fit the guitar between my legs.

Now, I'm in the back corner of the bus. It's a small public bus, and the last row has five seats. Someone else was sitting in the other corner, so there were three seats in between us. A kid gets on before my friend, and sits directly in the center of the three seats. My friend gets on, and is very clearly trying to get past this kid to sit next to me. Completely ignoring this, the kid, who I do not know, moves next to me and puts his backpack between his legs. It's not like this kid was small, either. He was on the larger side, and had plenty of room to put his backpack on his lap like every. other. kid. on. the. bus. But instead, he decided to put his backpack in between his legs and manspread, invading my personal space.

Naturally, I readjusted; putting my guitar more upright so I could move slightly over so he wasn't touching me. I do not like people I don't know touching me.

So, you know how people usually readjust when the bus turns, so they aren't leaning into strangers? Yeah, this kid did not do that. He kept leaning further into me, to the point where I had crammed myself into the corner as much as possible. And yet he was still leaning against me. I'm a very thin person, I weigh less than 115lbs and this kid was easily just less than twice my size. I was incredibly uncomfortable and grossed out, because again, I really don't like strangers touching me in any regard. It also was incredibly uncomfortable to be crammed in the corner.

It was like this for An Hour. This kid had no regard for personal space, and I was in a ton of pain for being crammed into the corner, just trying to get this kid out of my personal space. I have trouble walking after bus rides anyways, because I'm always very tense from stress, but it was 10x harder after this because of the exertion I put on my legs to not only keep my guitar steady and hold my backpack on my lap, but to also push myself away from this kid who did not have any spatial awareness.

Usually, I love bus rides because I don't have to focus on the road, I can just listen to my music loudly in my headphones and space out. I got five hours of sleep in hour-long intervals and I had to get up at 05:00, so I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing bus ride with my music, but instead I got crammed into a corner and I feel gross and exhausted because of this one kid with zero care for anyone around him.

#all of my friends said i shouldve shoved him off #and i really should have #i came so close to it #and it took all of my self control not to #anyways #sorry for the rant #i just had to get this off my chest #rant #vent post #if you made it this far #thank you for reading my woes #i know its annoying #but i just really had to get it off my chest #squiggely sayings

1 note · View note

vewornor · 2 years

Text

Minecraft titan launcher lan games not showing

MINECRAFT TITAN LAUNCHER LAN GAMES NOT SHOWING HOW TO

MINECRAFT TITAN LAUNCHER LAN GAMES NOT SHOWING PORTABLE

I actually tried playing it on my desktop after first trying it on the Deck, and quickly abandoned the mouse and keyboard for a return to the handheld’s twin sticks. It’s a less demanding, though still challenging, take on “How do I kill this dude no wait I am dead” RPGs that also happens to suit the Steam Deck very comfortably indeed. If you’re like me ( or Katharine) and don’t have the patience, temperament, or hand-eye coordination for Soulslikes, you may find Death’s Door more palatable. It’s certainly more comfortable to play and navigate menus with the thumbsticks than to deal with Elden Ring’s wonky mouse and keyboard support, and running on Proton – with its shader pre-caching feature - actually helps smooth out the stutters that you’d still get on native Windows, months after release.

MINECRAFT TITAN LAUNCHER LAN GAMES NOT SHOWING PORTABLE

Being a rougelike – mostly – it wouldn’t normally be as suited for short bursts of portable play, say on a bus ride, but the Deck’s quick resume feature lets you take a break whenever and immediately hop back into a run.įor all of its performance hiccups on Windows, Elden Ring is such a good match for the Steam Deck that it’s earned Verified status from Valve. And it’s just as tense, inventive and witty on the Steam Deck: it runs at a perfect 60fps, and only needs the face buttons and a single thumbstick for its slick, combo-happy combat. Hades claimed, by Advent Calendar rules, RPS GOTY status back in 2020. There’s some very occasional stuttering but that’s present on high-end desktop PCs as well, and if you simply lower the Effects quality setting from High to Medium, you shouldn’t drop below 30fps. This translates perfectly to the Steam Deck’s controls, and despite being a bit of a looker, Stray avoids any serious performance issues on the portable hardware. Stray shakes off notions of merely being a haha-funny-cat novelty game with some stellar worldbuilding and intuitive puzzle-platforming, helped along by a sleek context-sensitive traversal style. It’s a clever, surprising, and unrelentingly charming introduction to your new gadget, not a mention a reminder that Valve should really make more games. It’s essentially a Steam Deck tutorial, designed to help you get used to the controls layout, but is entertainingly administered through a genuinely funny mini-jaunt through a pre-Portal Aperture Science. The short and sweet Aperture Desk Job isn’t just one of the best games to play on the Steam Deck – it should probably be the first one you try. Now, in no particular order: the 30 best Steam Deck games.

MINECRAFT TITAN LAUNCHER LAN GAMES NOT SHOWING HOW TO

And, while we’re on the subject of maximising your Deck’s potential, you can also check out our Steam Deck battery life guide, my picks of the best microSD cards for the Steam Deck, and how to install the Epic Games Launcher on the Steam Deck. Of course, half the fun of a Steam Deck compared to handheld consoles is that most of your existing Steam library will likely be playable out of the box, so be sure to try your favourites even if they’re not on this list. Though hey, if you’ve just got your Deck and want some inspiration on what to install first, you can definitely count these as recommendations. These are games I’ve tried and genuinely enjoyed playing on the Steam Deck, without bumping into any technical/compatibility issues, across my however-many months of testing and reporting on it. I know a lot of best-of lists are ordered by publishing bigwigs who want a Google-pleasing “engagement” scrap in the comments, but I’ll swear blind that’s not the case here.

#Minecraft titan launcher lan games not showing

0 notes

kitsiekm · 2 years

Text

Night strolls II

Tonight I went on another stroll at night. The other day I was out on a semi-vacation on the beach, even went to another tourist spot where you can do cliff diving, the way there was long, first there was a long jeepney ride (which if you didn't know is a Filipino thing thats similar to a bus) with a very rollercoaster-esque road since the tourist spot was in the mountains, then you had to walk a steep road from stone to dirt to stone with varying levels of difficulty, mostly high since, like I said it was steep. On the way back though, I spotted the back of a black cat right before it shuffled away before I could get into the ride back to the beach, coincidentally later that night something happened to me that made me feel bad (wont go into the details but nothing personal) that I wasted a lot of time.

Personally, I'm not one for superstitions, but I genuinely do believe in luck. I do think its something to akin to a skill, and I even believe a little in some superstitions like the aforementioned black cat, it may not mean much from someone who's known to gamble, but I genuinely believe in it. It's lucky to be in a middle class family, even luckier to be in a high class family. While I dont really believe that skill and effort is not important, but I think that luck is equally as important.

Not everyone is lucky enough to get a chance to pursue their dreams, or something similar, though most times I think its just people not putting in the effort to even pursue them. I'm not like my brother who believes its all skill and effort, he probably believes in self-made bs. I dont think being self-made is a real thing, you will be helped by others when you're climbing to the top, its inevitable in my opinion. No matter how small you will be helped by others, and no one will ever be "self-made".

Oops.

Went of on a tangent over there, but please excuse myself.

Going back on tonight's night stroll; I wasn't strolling on my own this time, I was walking my dog. Funnily enough right after I left my home I saw another black cat. there was a cold breeze, I was holding my dark umbrella from last time in case it rains, after all there was quite the downpour just before. I was just staring at the cat, the cat staring back, presumably because they where tensed for a bit it stayed like this, until some other dog owner came by and the cat shuffled away.

This got me thinking.. What is Luck to me? Obviously its what I said from earlier, but at the time it wasn't really.. clear to me. I wasn't sure if it was an excuse so I can chuck every bad thing to luck, or if it really was just... luck, because I understand, if the concept of luck is real (which to me, it is) then life is much more depressing, seeing how everything is so unfair. I did a lot of thinking, and some more, and a lot more thinking, but in the end I couldn't get a clear answer. Perhaps it was because it was late at night, but it just got more and more biased from my view. I just thought, maybe its the combination of both, or something akin to that. Even now I'm not sure of how I should react to such news. In the end I believe its best not to leave things up to luck. Which may seem obvious but, I'm not exactly the normal type.

Rather than blame luck, use it.

Tonight's night stroll was nice, It would be nice to go on another one like this.

#deep thoughts #nighttime #i forgot the tags i used for the last post

0 notes

luveline · 2 years

Text

self preservation, part 4 | remus lupin x reader

"I know what you were thinking about this morning," he said, squeezing your fingers.

"What… what was I thinking?" you asked.

"You think you've gotten away with it, and that this was all my idea. But, I know you wanted this first. Teasing me, pressing your lovely cunt against my leg all innocent." He hooked his finger under your chin. You slowed your ceaseless squirming and looked at him guiltily. "There's no need to be embarrassed about it. This is where you belong, yeah? Rutting on me, my pathetic girl, this is how I like you."

summary actions speak much, much louder than words. [5k]

warnings smut, romantic tension, thigh riding, praise, very small degradation, oral, fem!reader, muggle anxious reader, secret wizard infatuated remus, friends with benefits who are a little in love with each other

read part one | two | three here

One Friday night Remus’ car wouldn’t start. You sat in the passenger seat and blew icy breaths out in powder white clouds, rucksack the only thing between your feet and the bitter cold soaking into his car. He’d been missing Tuesday through Thursday, had called you apologetically Wednesday morning sounding sick as a dog.

He was still under the weather on Friday and you’d been so relieved to see him that you’d hugged him, intending on it being quick, friendly, only his hands had come up and held onto your shoulders and you hadn’t wanted to move away anymore than he had. The day had been long, you were both tired, him more than you, and he’d promised to make you dinner if he could watch a movie they were showing on channel 4 tonight on your television. You’d said yes, obviously, and now found yourself with an alien version of Remus — he was angry. Not enough to swear or shout, but his shoulders were tense. He was leaning against the now closed hood.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t want to be an annoyance and make it worse. You twiddled your thumbs for a bit, an anxious pit growing in your stomach, until you decided the better option might be to face it head on.

Remus looked up when you closed the door behind you. You stood in front of him, feeling a little sick. “Is everything okay?”

His face, lips pressed together, eyes squinting, morphed. He patted the car’s hood, beckoning for you to sit beside him. His hand rested just behind your trousers.

“Everything’s fine.”

This made you feel worse. You didn’t want to look at his face too much in case he could sense your gaze.

“We might have to get the bus.”

You laughed, stressed. “Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“What? Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind. I’m sorry.”

His hand rested familiarly on your hip, pulling you until your hips were touching.

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.”

“No, I know, I just. You- you know. I didn’t want to be a burden.”

His fingers flexed. You could feel the warmth of his hand through your coat. He turned to you, eyes incredulous.

“You’re not a burden. Who told you that?”

“Nobody. I mean, ‘cos you drive me home-“

He laughed then, pulling you in to kiss your temple. “Sweetheart, I drive myself home too.”

“Don’t kiss me, I don’t want to get sick.”

“It’s not catching.”

“How could you know?”

“Trust me.”

And so you found yourself on the bus with Remus, knees touching, piled into two dirty seats at the front. You tucked yourself in as tightly as you could to give him space to stretch out his aching legs. You thought maybe he knew what you were doing because his knuckles kept brushing yours.

You worried about his car.

“Can you get it fixed?” you asked.

“My friend, Sirius. He’s good with things like that. I’ll ask him to drive me back tomorrow and he can look at it at the same time.”

You nodded. Your rucksack was in your lap, his at your feet. What was a long drive to his flat was a longer bus ride. He was a little too tired to keep conversation and, driven mad by silence, you took your book from your bag. He opened his resting eyes to see what you were doing.

There was a small gap of time where you read and he watched. You thought maybe he was reading along, and you were allowing enough time for him to finish before flipping the page. His head drifted closer and closer to your shoulder, face an inch away. The bus windows rattled, the heaters blessedly were on and high, staving away the finger-numbing temperature. A group of college aged students haunted the back rows, rowdy.

“Read to me?” he asked.

You did. Quietly, the cadence of your voice floating between you both. The bus rocked. The vents moaned. The students tumbled off the bus one after another, Remus’ leg encroached further and further into your seat. You were finally about to complain, pausing your reading, when you felt his face against your shoulder. You looked down carefully.

He’d fallen asleep.

From that point on you refused to move. You didn’t lift a hand to turn your page, even, too scared of waking him up when he needed rest. You watched out the window as it began to rain, sneaking glances at him and then looking away like you’d been caught taking sweets from the treat jar. A new, pink scar puckered from under his polo collar, looking sore. You wanted to kiss the edge of it and soothe the redness. You desperately wanted to ask him where he got these injuries, but felt ridiculous. He might’ve got them from anywhere, something dangerous like knife throwing or rock-climbing, as mundane yet private as sleep terrors or sexual encounters. Whatever it was, you’d never felt brave enough to ask, but seeing him hurt made your chest ache.

His face was peaceful in sleep as people usually were. You traced the small bump of his nose, his dainty freckles, his crop of soft lashes greedily — you’d never had such an opportunity to look at him like this, and you were hungry for it.

There was an eyelash on his cheek. You touched your fingertip as gently to the well of his eye as you could and picked it up, hand trembling. You held your fingertip in front of your mouth for a pensive second and made a wish. His eyelash swirled away in the warm gust of your breath.

When the bus was a few stops away from your own you gave in to the urge to push the silky hair from his face and woke him up. “Remus,” you whispered. He scrunched up his eyes and dug his face further into your shoulder, hiding away. “Remus, it’s my stop soon. Are you awake?”

He yawned into your coat. You followed his hair, scratched your fingernail softly behind the curve of his ear and pulled your hand away.

“Am I coming with you?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said with fake confidence. “Who else is going to make my dinner?”

You could’ve swore you felt him smile. He pushed off of your side and groaned softly, pushed his neck from one shoulder to the other, you heard it click and tsked.

“You’ll get arthritis.”

“I already have arthritis, sweetheart.” He pushed one hand behind his shoulder and forced it down with the other hand on his elbow until it popped, eyes closed, and then did the same with the other.

You frowned. “You do?”

He peeked out of one eye at you, hands coming back to his sides. “I- yeah. I do. Do you mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind,” you said honestly. “Is it awful? It must ache during the cold.”

“It’s,” he was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t describe, weighing his words, “it’s okay. I have chronic pain, and the arthritis doesn’t help.” His voice was very quiet when he confessed this.

You nodded. Before you could respond, your stop was flashing up on the screen toward the front, a ladies electronic voice was reading it out. Remus hurried to stand and take his bag from your feet, and you followed him from the warm bus out into the cold air.

You were quiet as you trudged down the steep hill where the bus stop lived and followed the road to your block of flats. His hand was so close to yours you could reach out and take it, if you were brave enough.

“I really-“ you swallowed hard, “don’t care. Don’t mind,” you corrected yourself. “If you were worried about that.”

“You already knew, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, cheeks burning. Daniel had already mentioned chronic pain. “Is it your joints?” You bit your own tongue, hard. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me.”

He shrugged, looking over his shoulder to smile at you gently.

“It’s a little of everything, but yeah, it’s my joints.”

“I didn’t know about your arthritis.”

He nudged you with his arm. “It’ll be like fucking an old man from now on.”

“Have you seen how you dress? It already is.”

He laughed, held his wrist over his mouth to cover his smile. “You’re so done.”

At home, fed and watered and curled up in front of the tv with enough space to be considered friends and not enough to avoid the preface of being overly-familiar, you switched between channels wearily.

“Are you sure it’s on tonight?” you asked him.

Remus looked unconcerned. “Nope.”

“What do you mean, nope? You’re here specifically to watch a movie and yet don’t care if the movie isn’t on?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

It kind of was a big deal. For you. Personally. You really didn’t want him to go home.

“And you’re sure it was on channel 4?”

“Well, no, not that sure.” He moved his hand over the back of the sofa, behind your head. You flicked between channels and frowned. “Did you want to see it that badly?” he asked.

“What? No, I’d never heard of it.”

“Then what’s with the frown?”

“I’m not frowning,” you said, frowning.

You could feel his gaze on the side of your face. He inched closer and closer until you were forced to look at him. He was grinning like he knew what you were thinking. He probably did.

“Oh, you creep. Don’t look at me like that,” you said, flinching out of his grasp. He followed you away until you were pressed between him and the sofa cushions, very aware of what had occurred the last time he’d cornered you like this.

The remote tumbled to the carpeted ground out of slack fingers. Neither of you moved to pick it up. The light from the tv flickered over his face, golden, light blue, pink.

“Remus,” you began, voice quiet to cede the atmosphere of the room. He tilted his head to one side. “We’ll miss the movie.”

He was suddenly interested in the chain necklace around your neck, fingers toying with the links. You shivered as they skipped over your skin. Then, when that bored him, the two buttons closing your jersey pajama top. He undid them slowly with one hand, the other by your neck. His eyes flicked up to your face.

It was so quiet you could hear when his lips parted, hear the moment his mouth touched your chest. He sucked the skin over your collar bones lightly, teeth scraping your skin. You barely felt them. You were quiet enough to surprise even yourself, paralysed by his lazy, familiar seduction, not because you didn’t want to be kissed by him, but because lately all you wanted was to be kissed by him. It felt like being discovered. You truly believed he’d read your feelings on your face and you couldn’t help but think of his eyelash twisting in the bus’ fluorescent lights like a cord of drifting spider’s silk.

Please, you’d wished. Please want me. Want me like I want you.

He kissed the very base of your throat before travelling up, dragging his bottom lip up your throat. Warmth blossomed under his touch like sunbursts.

The TV played an almost silent movie made up of glowing, multicoloured brilliance, jellyfish swimming through deepest blue fabricating moving shafts of luminescence. He pulled away, his face cast in light. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and felt the blood in his veins caper under your touch.

“I know I don’t tell you,” you murmured, reaching up to brush his face, hesitating before you made contact, “but you’re really pretty.”

His face was unreadable.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning your head. The light coloured your face with it’s prismatic glow. He was cataloguing your face like you had his beforehand, eyes tracing the slope of your cheeks, the line of your nose. He glanced between each eye as if looking for something beneath.

“Really pretty,” you whispered, feeling as though your voice had gotten caught in your throat.

He had complimented and praised you countless times, and still it felt difficult to tell him this, each point of your contiguity feeling as though it burned.

Pressing your hand to his face, you felt his soft skin and the scratchy beginnings of stubble on his cheek. Your touch was featherlight as you traced a path down from the corner of his eye, chasing an invisible, imaginary teardrop.

You curled your fingers inward, holding your breath as he turned to brush his lips over your knuckles, opened his mouth to kiss your fingers. You pressed the tips of your index and middle finger to his bottom lip, slowly exposing the barest hint of his pearl tipped teeth. You pulled away.

Your fingers, damp from his mouth, glowed silver in the dim room. Your arm trembled where you held it between you.

He was looking at your hand. You flexed your fingers, tendons jumping, as if it were underwater. His eyes memorised your fingerprints, the lines of your palm, the burn across the very top of your wrist. He caught your hand in his and pressed your wrist to his mouth, brushing his parted lips across the blistered skin softly, and then a second, firmer kiss followed.

The TV went dark. For a moment, a blissful, sickening moment, it was only your wrist in his hand, his mouth on your skin.

The teleshopping adverts began, breaking up the roaring silence, disturbing the intimate moment you’d carved away. You searched for the remote, heart beating fast as a mouse’s, knowing it was futile. Remus moved away. You turned off the TV. In the pitch dark, you took a shuddering breath.

You both failed to fill the silence. In tandem you stood, readied for bed. You worried he’d prefer to sleep on the sofa, worried worse that he would go home, but when you’d finished brushing your teeth he was lying in your bed, curled under the covers facing in with his eyes closed.

You slunk in to avoid disturbing him. Light spilled in from the window like mercury, puddling over the duvet. When you closed your eyes you saw his face illuminated by blue light, his eyes open and glimmering with something unspoken. You didn’t think you’d ever calm down enough to sleep when his hand found yours, loosely twining your fingers together. You circled his index finger, ran the pad of your thumb over his knuckle.

You dreamed of jellyfish.

Remus woke up to your hands on his neck. He worried for a moment that you were attempting to assassinate him in his sleep, worried you'd strangle the breath from his throat and he'd died with a few unsaid words stuck right at the very bottom. You didn't. Your one hand stayed where it was pressed lightly at the side of his neck and the other moved up, following an old scar, until it was brushing hair away from his ear.

He stayed very still. You tucked the loose strands of hair that were long enough behind his ear. He felt your thumb move across his earlobe, felt your thumbnail dance across the curve. Your fingers moved up, into his hair, and you began to card through the brown mop. He couldn't pretend through this. Your every movement filled him with a gentle shivering, and in response – your honey sweet laugh. He knew from experience how it tasted, opened his eyes with the intention of collecting it.

You smiled at him. He could see a trace of worry, which you usually carried, but not often with him. He was determined to erase it.

"Morning," you whispered, stealing back your hands. He caught them in his and looked at you steadily.

"Morning, sweetheart," he said. The words were warm in his mouth.

Your lip twitched in pleasure. Always so easy to make you smile. He pressed your joined hands to your shoulders and shuffled backwards to sit up. He leaned down and, despite something telling him not to, telling him this intimacy was undeserved and each drop he took was like larceny, kissed you sweetly where your eyebrow finished.

Your hands tugged out from under his and you pushed yourself up as well, both of you sitting against the headboard.

He wondered if this morning would turn into the same ordeal as last night - whatever that had been. He'd stayed up late into the night, feigning sleeping to listen to your breathing with your hand clasped in his, to try and work out what it had been. It had felt confessional, at least on his part. Unfair to assume you'd read every emotion in his actions, but the act of kissing your wrist had been reverential, and had felt like worship. He'd never felt so sickeningly overcome with emotion as that. And then the TV had blared and the night had shattered, and he'd felt silly for forcing you to undergo such intensity.

You yawned and covered your whole face in your hands, bringing your naked thighs up from under the duvet's cover. He didn't remember you taking off your pajamas last night, but a rich man should never complain. You tucked your legs to the side where your knees pressed into his own thigh. He stole a glance at your kneecaps. Looking up, he found your eyes watching him.

"What are you thinking?" you asked him.

How could he ever find the words?

"About your legs," he deflected, not wholly a lie.

If you were disappointed or pleased at his admittance, neither showed on your face. You dragged your hand down your leg, down until he felt the warmth of your hand across his own.

"What about them?" you asked him.

"How they're fucking lovely," he said, and this was all truth.

You huffed a small laugh as though you didn't believe him but would indulge his fanaticism. A strange smile settled across your deific pout.

"What are you thinking?" he asked you, feeding your own words back to you.

Rather than answer you were set into motion. You pushed up onto your knees, stretched one over his thigh to come between his legs without quite touching his crotch while the other remained where you'd started. You slowly lowered yourself onto his thigh. A terrible groan began in his chest at the feeling of your warmth against his leg, knowing what separated you from him was two very thin layers of fabric. Your hands prodded the tight muscles of his shoulders, moving to meet behind his neck as you leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Coincidentally," you began, the word sharp enough to cut diamond despite it's low tone, "I was thinking about your legs, too."

He latched his own arms tightly around your waist and pulled you to his chest, relishing the gasp you made as your cunt dragged up his thigh. "What about them?"

He knew you wouldn't answer how he had, his words too outspoken for you to get through without tumbling over them. If you stuttered, it would relegate any of the dominance you were trying to withhold back to him. He could hear your breathing, how it was already coloured by pleasure as your legs shifted, knees moving further up the bed as you tried to lift off of his thigh. He let you, not because he thought this was a game you might win, but because it would be more fun to drag you down.

Your knee was pressed against his hardening cock. He let it jump to see how you'd react, was more than pleased when your hands tightened around his neck.

"Well?" he asked, toying with the edge of your t-shirt. "I'm waiting."

You looked up from where you'd been staring at his thigh. He suspected that if he were to touch your face he'd find it red hot with blood filling your cheeks as he could see the shyness lining your eyes, your eyelashes quivering as you gazed from underneath them.

"So shy," he admonished lightly, abandoning your t-shirt entirely to cup the side of your face. He pushed his thumb into the corner of your eye with the lightest pressure. You were permissive of his behavior as always. "You're much too quiet, baby."

You offered him no words.

"Hey, it's alright. If you don't feel like talking, I've other ways to make you loud." His index finger traced the curve of your ear in an imitation of your actions. Your face filled with an understanding that he'd been awake. He'd felt everything. "That sound okay to you?"

You looked more embarrassed than he'd ever seen you, pressing your face over the curve of his shoulder. He cupped the back of your head.

"I know you're quiet this morning, but I need a yes or no." Lest he read your signs wrong.

You let your weight rest fully on his leg and sighed. "Yes, it's okay."

He could feel your heartbeat pulsing in your cunt. He suspected he'd find wetness if he looked for it. He started very slowly, moving your body down his thigh with his hands guiding your hips. You were content to be moved, pliant under his fingers.

He figured he'd start kind. He brought you up slowly, felt your breath coming much faster where it dusted his skin. He felt the anchor of your hands at his neck tighten.

He applied more pressure as he pushed you down, dragging you back up a little quicker. Your breathing enhoused the hints of a whimper. He wrapped an arm around your back as he pulled you close.

"You gonna work for it?" he asked you softly.

"Yes," you whispered.

"Good girl." He felt you shift. "Ride my thigh, baby."

He still helped but there was only so much he could do with one hand on your hip as you moved. The forced proximity of his arm around your back meant you couldn't pull full, long strokes like he had. Quickly, this agitated you, and before long you were desperate and pretending not to be, hips angled as you brushed your hot, clothed cunt against his thigh.

He took pity on you. "Stand on your knees."

You did. He pulled down your underwear by the elastics until they were at your knees and then you lifted one leg and then the other. He left then around your ankle, a damp reminder.

His fingers found your cunt and you sighed in relief. "I'm not that nice, sweetheart," he said, chuckling. He spat on his hand and rubbed the sorry lube into your clit, down your slit. Your entrance was wet. Then, he forced your cunt back down onto his leg with firm hands on your waist.

He spoke softly, a false regret colouring his words. "Gonna have to make yourself cum, pretty girl."

"Please, Remus," you whispered.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm just so tired," he teased, leaning back against the headboard. Your hands fell into your lap. "Be a good girl and get yourself off, yeah?"

You blinked at him prettily. He didn't cave. "Go on," he said. You rubbed your cunt against the soft fabric of his jogging bottoms and he almost felt sorry for you, knowing there was little friction to be found there. You moved, every kick of pleasure marked by a catch in your breath, doubling down as you squirmed your hot cunt into his leg. "That's it, baby," he cooed, catching your hands in his loosely. "Grind that pretty pussy on me, good girl, good girl."

Your eyes were lined with silvery tears. He grinned, letting your half-tourture yourself against him. You were panting, begging for a release, moving against him fast. The bed creaked with your grinding.

"I know what you were thinking about this morning," he said, squeezing your fingers. Your kneecap brushed his aching cock.

"What… what was I thinking?" you asked, words interrupted by a keening sound as you hit a sweet spot.

Your wetness had soaked through his bottoms. Your face went blissed as you chased your orgasm. He grabbed your waist and forced your sluggish hips up your leg again and again and again until you clenched around him, crying out. Your eyes slammed shut and you shuddered through waves of pleasure. He worried you were in pain until you came down, pressing your hands into the top of his thigh as you caught your breath.

He'd barely managed to open his mouth and ask if you were alright when you'd thrown your arms around his neck and began kissing him. His arms hesitated behind you until he had the good sense to grab you, securing you to his chest. You, despite your quick movements, seemed to be in no rush, opening his mouth up in a way he fooled himself into thinking was lovingly. You'd pause for a millisecond and dive back in, turning your face from side to side like you were searching for him.

He'd never kissed someone so much in his life, he realised, as he'd kissed you. Never with such an impasse of unspoken feelings.

Your hand stretched over his navel and you pulled back. "Can I take care of you?" you asked.

What awful words to use, he thought. Take care of you. He was dazed enough with your kisses to read a double meaning, and when he nodded a little listlessly, he felt like he was asking you to love him.

Your hand creeped under the waistband of his trousers and the elastic of his briefs. You graced the head of his cock with the flat of your palm tenderly, pushing the flesh of your thumb down the top of his cock. He clenched his teeth to hide his eagerness.

You climbed off of his leg, leaving behind a mess of slick and manoeuvred yourself so that you were lying between his legs, held up by his elbows. You pulled his cock out of his boxers and his head was already swimming in arousal, the amorous nature of your every move setting him alight. You held your cock in his hand and ran a thumb over a vein at this base of him, giving a tentative pump. Precum emerged lazily from the tip and you moved forward to lick it off.

He groaned aloud. You smiled to yourself and looked up at him, eyes big and bright and beautiful. He ran his hands through your hair approvingly. You kissed the head of his cock in the same way that you'd kissed his mouth and he worried he'd have to beg for mercy when you pulled away to spit down his length, a line of dribble stretching between his cock and your kiss bitten lips. You dedicated your hand to the stretch of his cock and spread your spit all over him, soon finding a tantalising rhythm.

He wasn't above begging. He gently guided your head down onto his cock and moaned in pleasure when you opened your mouth eagerly, carefully swallowing the top of his cock between your soft lips. He watched as your mouth stretched around his cock and had to stare at the ceiling before he came prematurely.

You crawled up the bed and pushed up his shirt to rest your side against his inner thigh and naked abdomen, hand on his hip as you bobbed on his dick. He felt his head drag against your soft palate, saw your eyes watering as you neared your throat. You pulled away, gasping, dribbled pooling out of your mouth at the base of his cock.

He tittered appraisingly, wiping your lips dry. "So fucking pretty," he praised warmly.

You smiled, eyes creasing. You took both hands to his cock and massaged his balls in one hand, his shaft in the other. He was making sounds he was ashamed of as you worked. My movie star girl, he thought, selfishly, fuck.

Catching his cock in your mouth again, you forced your mouth open around him. Incensed, he held your hair back and pushed you on and off his cock gently, hips thrusting up out of his control.

The bashful air you had whilst chasing your own high was gone, smiling cheekily up at him. He pushed the side of his thumb down your face, a moan escaping his lips. You set your eyes back on his cock. The combination of your tentative, pretty hands wrapped around him, your warm mouth, your throaty pants was all it took. He moaned loudly as he came, white shooting up his torso as you milked him dry. The last rivulets dripped down the fingers you had clasped around his head.

You licked your hands clean and set a kiss on his stomach beside his twitching cock, letting yourself rest on his abdomen with a tired little sigh. As soon as he'd managed to stop seeing stars he tucked away his still-aching cock and turned on his side, pulling you up to press your face into his chest. He could feel his heart beating in his ears as he leaned down to kiss you square on the top of your head.

"I think you made louder noises than me," you said, voice edged in mirth.

"Give me twenty minutes and I'll make you regret that," he said, lacking any real fire. He ran his hand up and down the line of your spine.

"I'm looking forward to it,” you said firmly.

By the time twenty minutes had passed you'd both fallen asleep again, your head on his chest and his mouth in your hair.

my masterlist <3

tag club! :3

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu@thatblackravenclaw @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust @touchdeprivedwh0re @vi0letblu3s@mooncalvin @gaysnowrose @thatonecomfyjumper @set-myself-on-fire @decafcoffew

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #Remus Lupin x y/n #fem!reader #marauders era #no Voldemort #remus x reader #Remus x you #marauders #remus #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin smut #post Hogwarts

532 notes · View notes

inkedtae · 3 years

Text

orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))

❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq (thank you so much friend~)

❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk and @uhgood-dooghu (a million thanks to these cuties~)

❧ le playlist

⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM

Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life.

“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”

Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his.

“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you.

You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it.

Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?”

He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly.

Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been.

“Have you come to watch?”

“To worship.”

Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.

Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”

“Taehyung,” he corrects.

“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”

He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner.

Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”

You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched.

Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core.

Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach.

“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”

Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp.

Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.

Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort.

“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”

Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to?

Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should.

Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all.

“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.”

Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.

As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can.

“You abuse your power,” he always tells you.

And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.”

Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer.

“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead.

You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond-

The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone.

Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.

Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”

The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much.

You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”

Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative.

But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs.

His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous.

Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone.

Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.

Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention.

On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power.

A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort.

The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher.

His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.”

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time.

“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.

Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment.

Then, in he goes.

“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy.

You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you.

Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion.

Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you.

But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes.

Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it.

Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out.

Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”

You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away.

“Better not say his name.”

Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him.

And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy.

Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly.

Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-”

Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair.

Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit.

Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them.

Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, “But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow.

Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up.

Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him.

“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.”

Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”

Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.

Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.

“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon.

You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open.

He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride.

However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger.

You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms.

The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung.

After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it.

Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.

With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions.

You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”

“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”

Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.”

“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh.

You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish.

Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine.

You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?”

Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again.

No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”

Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit.

Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth.

You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth.

You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”

A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.

And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy.

Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all.

Only, you don’t.

Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell.

“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”

The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock.

You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again.

Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”

“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter.

Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.”

“But, Joon-”

A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.

Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea-

“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again.

“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.

Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!”

“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts.

Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks.

With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”

Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.”

Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself.

Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control.

“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.”

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot.

You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now.

Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”

Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days.

Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”

You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes.

Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”

“She’s not yours!”

You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone.

Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.”

You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars.

“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.

You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs.

“Do you still like oranges though?”

It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love oranges.”

He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before.

It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

1K notes · View notes

canislupus-exe · 2 years

Text

Hours on the Clock | eddie munson

SPOILER FREE

fandom | Stanger Things

character | Eddie Munson

reader | (Henderson) she/her (he ver.)(they ver.)

requested | @theimaginationgotmegood

warnings | mild angst with a happy ending

word count | 3,075

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | Could I request a Henderson|SisterxEddie or Steve imagine where she helps him study/apply for something cuz Dustin begged her to and she has pretty tensed neck/shoulders and he massages it for her. After that they become friends and he keeps on easing her pain, like whenever they are together (cuz she‘s the kid‘s ride) and it‘s just become normal for everyone. But she understands a joke from him wrong and becomes insecure, pushes him away until he confronts her and then just fluff maybe? This would be amazing!

editor | @feliscatus-exe

>> back to prev <<

Keep reading

“So please enlighten me on what was so important that you had me waiting out here for…” You paused to check your watch. “47 minutes.”

“We were talking with Eddie about the hellfire club,” Dustin replied. You raised your eyebrows.

“I thought hellfire was on Fridays.” You said. Dustin sighed and dropped his head against the headrest.

“(Y/n), aren’t you in English honors?” Mike asked. Your eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror so you could see his face.

“Yes?” You questioned. Dustin looked over his shoulder at Mike and then back at you.

“And you tutor on the side for money!” He exclaimed. You sighed, seeing exactly where he was going with this.

“I tutor freshmen on the side for money so they're better prepared for their classes, not seniors who flunked two years in a row.” You replied. Lucas laughed.

“She’s got you there Dustin.”

“(Y/n), please. I’ll do anything. Consider all your chores for the next month done, alright?” He pleaded. You raised your eyebrows and glanced at him from the side of your eyes.

“Seriously? It’s that important that I tutor this guy?” You ask. Dustin nodded feverishly.

“Yes.” He deadpanned. You sighed.

“Alright. I’ll fit him into my schedule. But you better hold up your end of the deal.” You said as you flicked his hat downward. He smiled.

“I will, I promise. And thank you.”

>><<

“Your Henderson’s sister, right?”A man with long hair asked. Eddie Munson. You’d seen him around school but never opted to talk to him.

“In the flesh.” You replied. He stepped out of the frame so you could walk in, to which you hesitantly did so.

“Um… Dustin tells me your failing-“

“Horribly. Crashing and burning in fact. Which is where you come in Henderson-“

“(Y/n). My name is (Y/n).” You reply. He smiles.

“(Y/n) Henderson. Pleasure. As I was saying, I’m in dire need of assistance. In fact, the hellfire club depends on it.”

“Something wrong?” Eddie asked. You looked up at him and gave a halfhearted laugh.

“Yeah sorry. It’s… It’s nothing.” You reply, waving him off. You doubted he wanted to listen to you talk about your problems.

“No no please, enlighten me. I mean, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together so we might as well share our deepest darkest secrets.” He said as he leaned his fin on the palm of his hand. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he spoke. It was odd but… charming.

“And how does that make you feel?” He said, staring at you intently, which only made you laugh harder.

“Oh come on. I pour my heart out to you and you say that. What a dick.” You reply. He smiles.

“You’re right, I do apologize m’lady. However could a mere court jester such as myself make it up to the likes of you?” He asked. You snickered, but soon after felt another twinge of pain shoot down your neck and across your shoulders. You groaned again, pressing your fingers into the places it felt the tightest.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a masseuse as well as a jester, would you?” You asked, running with whatever bit he had going. He shrugged.

“I dabble.” He replied. You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him.

“You’re serious?”

“These fingers aren’t just good for playing guitar you know. Let me give it a shot.” He said, wiggling his fingers at you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair.

“I-I mean if you want to give it a go, by all means.” You replied. You couldn’t help but ask yourself how you managed to get here.

“Better?” He asked. You chuckled before sitting up straight.

“Um… Yeah actually. A-A lot better. I wasn’t expecting that.” You replied with a laugh. He places his hand over his heart, feigning offense.

“Such little faith in me.” He said with a smile. You shook your head.

“We’ve already burned through a quarter of our time together and I haven’t even started explaining anything. You’re a bad influence, Eddie Munson.” You said.

“In the flesh.”

>><<

“(Y/n), you’re early,” Eddie said as he opened the door to let you inside. You smiled and took your bag off, setting it where you normally did.

“Yeah, one of my regulars canceled cause he was sick so you get me for a little longer today.” You replied.

“Earth to (Y/n)? You didn’t check out on me did you?” He asked. You quickly glanced up before nodding. You didn’t know how you were going to salvage this.

“Oh yeah. I just remembered I was supposed to take Dustin out tonight though. A brother-sister bonding thing our mom is making us do.” You said, grabbing your bag from the floor. Eddie raised his eyebrows, taken aback by your sudden declaration. You began to walk toward his door to let yourself out.

“Okay, thank you, Ms. Henderson. Can you tell her to call me when she’s out? I have something important to tell her.” He asked. She said she’d relay the message to you and that was that. 8:00. 9:00. 10:00. 11:00. 12:00. And by 1:00 in the morning, he fell asleep by the phone, waiting on that call back that also never came.

Everything was fine one day and then totally fucked the next. He’d found himself falling for Henderson’s older sister and then suddenly you hate his guts? I mean, what were the odds of that happening?

“What the fuck!?” You shouted.

“Shhh! It’s just me!” He replied. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Eddie? W-What are you doing? And where’s the damn light?” You asked, fumbling around the wall to search for a switch.

“You know I’ve missed that laugh.” He said. You felt your face heat up with embarrassment, glad it was shrouded by the darkness.

“Why have you been avoiding me (Y/n)?” He asked, his voice softer than you were used to. You frowned and looked at your feet.

“What? Sick of you? Why would I ever say that?”

“Exactly.”

“You were really sick?” You asked, almost too scared to hear the answer.

“W-wait seriously? That’s so corny.” You said. You couldn’t see it, but Eddie’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

“You’re the one who cried all night cause you thought I said I was sick of you!” He retorted. You laughed before wrapping your arms around him, which he was taken aback by.

“I’ll never ignore you again Eddie Munson.” You said. He smiled down at you fondly, despite knowing you couldn’t see him. He wrapped his arms around you and leaned his chin on your head.

“You better keep that promise, (Y/n) Henderson.”

And you did.

54 notes · View notes

lovely-angst · 3 years

Note

Ok so may I request a part two of "walk me to the bus stop" where bakugou and his s/o are older now, and he's in like his 3rd year at UA, and he just happens to be at the bus stop late at night and hears shouting and runs over to see his s/o struggling to get away from those same men in suits, and he rescues her again and they're just like long time no see? and bakugou proceeds to walk s/o home as the men in suits get whisked away by the police <3 so swoony uwu

changed the ending juuuust a tad bit, but i hope it��s just as good ;^)

pt 1 here!

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

01.15.21

“Are you sure you don’t want us to wait with you at the bus stop?” your friends ask, but you shook your head politely. “Thanks for asking, but I’ll be fine. It’s getting late and I know they’re about to do last calls for buses and trains, I wouldn’t want you to miss them,” you explain as your friends give you smalls smiles.

“If you say so. Text me when you get home then, okay?” she says as you give her a nod before turning around to make your way to the bus stop.

Walking down the empty street lit by the dim street lights, you tried not to think about all of the horrible situations that could happen, it would only keep you paranoid.

Plus, your boyfriend taught you a few moves of self defense if you’re ever in a predicament, you were prepared for anything!

Sighing, you continue to walk down before turning into another street, eyes slightly widening when you notice two men in suits standing off to the side of road.

“They’re probably just businessmen (Name), stop over thinking things,” you told yourself as you walked passed the men, keeping your head down. Once you had gotten passed them, you let out a relieved sigh, “just business men,” you whisper to yourself, relaxing a bit.

It wasn’t until you continued walking for a couple minutes that you heard footsteps behind you. You tried not to think too hard about it, maybe someone was just taking the same path as you.

Your hand gripped your bag tightly before you cautiously looked over your shoulder, only to find those two men following you.

It was happening again.

Quickly turning back, you tried to maintain a normal speed to not seem suspicious, but when you thought they weren’t suspecting anything, you ran for it.

Your heart raced as you tried to reach the bus stop. It would be the main road, there would be people there to save you, heroes there to save you!

You felt your eyes gloss over as you tried to outrun these men, but even you could tell they were catching up and catching up fast. “One more street and I’ll make it!”

Just as you were about to turn the corner to your bus stop, two more men popped out and blocked your path, sealing you from escaping.

You turned every which way to find a way to escape but they were slowly inching closer. Swinging your bag, you tried to attack but it backfired when they grabbed on, pulling you in and pining your hands together as a car pulled up on the side of the road.

Before they could stuff you in the vehicle, you let out a yell.

“Hurry up, Bakugou! We’re on a time crunch here!” Kirishima cries as he tries to remind his grumpy buddy that Aizawa had given them only an hour to grab whatever they needed from the convenience store before heading back to the dorms for the night.

“Thanks for tagging along, Kacchan!” Midoriya says but Bakugou could only scoff, “I can’t believe you two losers dragged me along,” he complained, following the two boys.

“You’ve been kinda tense lately, I thought maybe being outside of UA could help you a bit,” Kirishima confesses with a toothy smile, causing Bakugou to frown.

“I’ll just wait out here for you idiots. Better make it a fast trip,” Bakugou says as the three finally made it to the convinience store. “Okay!” Midoriya and Kirishima quickly head in, the sliding doors closing behind them leaving Bakugou alone.

Though Bakugou hated running errands, Kirishima was right—being outside of UA was nice. There were normal citizens walking about and for some reason the air felt and smelled different.

He wished he could enjoy a night out like this with you. Running to some convenience store to buy snacks because you were hungry before the two of you would walk through the quiet town together.

Glancing through the glass doors, Bakugou noticed that Midoriya and Kirishima were still busy deciding on what brand to get.

A small walk wouldn’t hurt.

He knew that the bus stop the two of you always waited at was nearby, maybe he could take a quick picture and send it your way. He could already imagine all of the texts you would reply with.

‘I can’t believe you’re allowed out and i’m not there!’

‘Message me as soon as you can next time! Even if it’s just for five minutes, I want to see you!’

Just the thought of it made him smile. Just as he approached the bus stop, he heard a faint yell, “help!”

Like the snap of a finger, all the gears in Bakugou’s brain began turning as he quickly set off to find the source of the distressed cry, someone needed his help.

It didn’t take long before Bakugou found four men trying to force a girl into a car as she continued to resist.

Using his explosions, Bakugou propelled himself forward before grabbing one of the men by the collar of his shirt, slamming him onto the hard ground beneath them before raising his arm towards another, letting out an explosion in the man’s face.

With the two in the back down, the young lady was able to turn her head around towards him, their eyes meeting. “Katsuki!”

Before Bakugou could cause unleash another attack, they quickly shoved you in the car before one of the men turned and brought their hand up towards Bakugou’s face, and unleashed their quirk as a flash of bright light filled the scene.

Just as the light slowly disapeared, the car had driven off with you in it.

“Kacchan!” “Bakugou! What happened to waiting outside the store?” Kirishima scolded as the two ran over to the blond, “We saw that bright flash of light and decided to come check it out.”

Bakugou cursed, “That damn light caught me off guard. They took (Name), hurry before they get too far!” he shouted as he began propelling himself in the air to catch sight of the car.

Bakugou wasn’t sure if the two followed behind, but he could careless. His girlfriend had just gotten kidnapped in front of his face and he wasn’t going to let them get away with it.

Meanwhile, you were continuously trying to pry yourself away from the men who sat beside you. Your hands were tied together in front of you as you scanned the car with your eyes.

It didn’t seem like they had any guns on them thankfully, but you weren’t sure how you could manage to even attempt to escape. It didn’t matter though, you were going to do whatever it took.

Violently shaking yourself to try to loosen the fabric around your wrists, you would purposefully shove the two men beside you to get a rise out of them, and it worked.

“Hey, knock it off before I-” before he could finish his sentence, you roughly swung your fists into his face before swinging your head to headbutt the other man, causing them to curl in pain.

While they were distracted from the sudden attack, you reached over and unlocked the car door before swinging it open and throwing yourself out of the vehicle, rolling onto the hard ground with a few rough scrapes.

As you tried to regain your focus after the tumble, you could hear the voices of the men and their quick footsteps as they ran over to you.

You were so close.

Just as you turned your head and flinched from the men, Bakugou suddenly dropped down in front of you with his arms raised, “Watch out, (Name)”

Releasing a large blast that shook the ground, the men were finally all down and unconscious.

“Sorry we’re late Kacchan!” Midoriya exclaimed as he jerked his head behind him at Kirishima who was riding Midoriya’s back. “Ha, can’t exactly get here as fast as the two of you, so Midoriya here offered to give me a ride.”

“Just go apprehend those guys,” Bakugou said, rolling his eyes as the two nodded, running over towards the unconscious men.

With a sigh, Bakugou finally turned around to face you who was still on the ground exhausted. Bending down to your level, he couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his face before he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“I can’t ever leave you alone, can I?” he says softly and you can only rest your face against his palm. “You’re always getting into trouble.”

“You’ll always be there to save me though,” you say with a small smile. And though Bakugou knows that won’t always be the case, he can only hope that he’ll be able to be there when you are in trouble.

“Can you sit here for me for a bit? Got some hero work I need to finish,” he explains, nodding his head over towards his two classmates. “Of course,” you reply as you rest yourself against the back of a building.

Bakugou smiles, quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead before catching up with Midoriya and Kirishima.

The cops were called to take the men away and Aizawa was called to the scene to retrieve his three students—thankfully Aizawa was understanding about the situation and wasn’t terribly upset that they had missed been out for longer than an hour.

Bakugou knew that he had to go back to UA, but he couldn’t leave you alone right now after everything you’ve just been through.

“I understand that I’m pushing my limits here, but would it be alright for me to wait with (Name) until her parents get here?” Aizawa stared down at the blond before shifting his eyes to you, who looked a bit distraught, understandably though.

He would hate to be the cause any unnecessary danger trouble to his students, but it wouldn’t hurt this one time. Especially if it was Bakugou, one of the top students. “Come back as soon as they get here,”

“I will, thank you,” Bakugou states before jogging over to you, pulling you in for a hug.

Aizawa hated being soft with his students, but growing with them for the past few years, he just couldn’t help it.

As the scene died down and the cops were slowly dispersing from the scene, you and Bakugou sat quietly on a bench together fooling around as you waited for your parents to arrive.

“Give me your bag,” Bakugou says firmly causding you to hold your bag close and away from him, “Why do you want it so bad, huh?” you accuse as Bakugou leans forward to try to pry the bag from you.

“Just give it to me!” “No!”

Your giggles fill the air as he begins to lightly tickle your sides, successfully retrieving the bag from you as you gave him a pout from between your laughter. “What are you looking for?” you asked as he begins to rummage through your items.

“Nothing,” he curtly replies before pulling out your small first aid kit, “Come here, you scraped yourself a bit jumping out of that car didn’t you?”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at yourself, finally noticing and feeling the scrapes against your once smooth skin. “You’re so careless,” he says gently as he rips open the small packet of alcohol wipe.

His large calloused hands gently rub the wipe against your injuries as gently as he could before rubbing ointment on the clean wound.

His soft blond hair obstructing you from seeing his handsome features as he was treating you like glass. It was odd seeing such a different side of him, but you welcomed it with open arms.

“I cleaned it good, so don’t go crashing into things to cause more injuries,” Bakugou states organizing the first aid kit. You reached over and placed your hand over his before turning his hand around, letting his palm face up.

“Didn’t you hurt your hands today too?” you ask as you glanced down, your free hand gliding across his palm as light as a feather, trying not to irritate any injuries he might have.

“You were using your quirk a lot without your gauntlets,” bringing his palm up, you planted a soft kiss to it, “it must have hurt, I’m sorry.”

Quickly releasing his hand, you reach into your bag to pull out an ice pack that was mostly melted before placing it in his hand, “it’s not cold anymore, but I hope it’ll soothe your hands enough.”

The smile you gave him reminded him about how much he wanted to protect you from this world full of evil things. You are so precious to him. He was thankful the stars aligned for him to have been able to save you today.

“Oh, that’s my parent’s car!” you say standing up and grabbing your bag, Bakugou standing up beside you. “See you soon?” you asked, glancing up at him as he gave you a small smile.

“See you soon,” he repeats as your cheeky smiled widened, leaning up to press a kiss onto his lips. “Thank you for saving me today again, Katsuki,” you whisper, pulling away from him before entering the car.

Giving him a small wave goodbye, Bakugou watches as the car drives off into the distance before he turns around and makes his way back to UA.

It was quiet without you beside him, but he knew the next meeting was going to be worth the wait.

- extra -

It had been a long and tiring day of quirk training as the students all sat around trying to catch their breath or to rejuvenate their spent energy.

“What you got in your hand there, Bakugou?” Kaminari teases, catching the students’ attentions as they all glanced at his hand.

Turning his hand around to face his palm up, Bakugou opened his fingers to expose the cute ice pack you had given him that night. “It’s (Name)’s. She gave it to me too cool my hands down after I over use my quirk,” he explains with a smug smile knowing all his single friends couldn’t relate.

The class reaction was a mix of ‘ooh’s and ah’s’ and ‘cute’ and a very quiet ‘simp’, but he’d let that slide this one time.

“Augh! I can’t believe you have a girlfriend! Why haven’t I been blessed yet!” Kaminari cries, shoving his hands into his hair in despair.

Glancing down at the ice pack, Bakugou smiled. Yeah, he was definitely blessed.

358 notes · View notes

ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

Driving with the Akatsuki

Itachi

Driving with this guy is ... nerve-wracking, to say the very least. It’s not as though he’s a reckless automobile operator; he observes all the laws of traffic, the radio is at a reasonable volume ((he’s the type to listen to podcasts rather than music)), he follows the speed limits, he actually slows down at a yellow light — but it’s the near-misses that are daunting. The just barely stopping in time before hitting the old lady crossing the street. The running up on the curb while parking. And then there was that incident with the tree — Itachi legally has to wear glasses when driving, but his passengers often wonder whether the glasses actually HELP him. Even with them on, he squints A LOT. And only someone with nerves of absolute steel, like Kisame or Kakuzu, will be in a car with him at night. However he is with driving, one thing he’s not blind in, is his car’s cleanliness. Will make passengers wipe feet before getting in, and after everyone is gone he’ll carefully scour the seats to remove even the faintest trace of lint or gum wrappers or any disturbance at all. Can be a bit of a “mom” driver; a holdover from his teenage years of constantly having to chauffeur around his younger brother and his brother’s rambunctious friends.

Kakuzu

Anyone getting into a vehicle with Kakuzu is in for a surprise. 91 years old? Surely he drives slow and steady, like a typical little old man, right? WRONG. Kakuzu is a goddamn speed-demon. He barrels down streets, he flies through intersections. Not many know this about him, but he was very much into drag-racing as a (much) young(er) man, and his current proclivity for quickness is a holdover from those days. Luck always seems to be on his side, as he’s gotten caught/received speeding tickets far less than he deserves. To make matters scarier, Kakuzu’s radio system has been broken for two years (and of course he’s too cheap to get it fixed), and the back left window doesn’t roll up to the top; so the only sound his passengers will hear is the wind rushing past the glass and Kakuzu’s deep, sinister chuckles as he sees other drivers (and pedestrians) scramble to get out of his way. Also, unless you’re a CLOSE-close friend, don’t expect a ride from him unless you have gas money.

Deidara

In all honesty, the blonde prefers to be the passenger rather than the driver, even in his own car. He gets his best inspirations for future art pieces when he’s traveling around, and it’s hard to pick up a sketch book when you need to be paying attention to the road. When he does have to be behind the wheel himself, he’s a fairly average driver. His passengers are always at risk of a case of auditory whiplash, as Deidara’s (loudly played) music tastes switch from one extreme to the other; and the guy isn’t exactly shy about singing along to his favorites. He’s also one of those eat-on-the-go guys, and his backseat will almost always be buried under a myriad of candy wrappers, empty plastic soda bottles and discarded burger wrappers. In the summer he prefers the wild and free feeling of having all the windows down, rather than turning the AC on, and he’ll have to remember to firmly tie up his long hair and keep it from blowing in his eyes or else everyone in the car will be taking an unscheduled trip into the nearest tree.

Zetsu

His car always has that calm, natural, “special plant” scent to it. The kind of smell that causes a panic when Zetsu sees a police officer anywhere in the area. A very relaxed driver; seat almost all the way back, one hand barely on the steering wheel. Obeys the speed limit but can put the pedal to the metal when in a hurry. Likes to listen to mostly reggae or jazz, and taps his fingers on he dashboard along to the beat. Water-bottle hoarder; has at least 1000 plastic water bottles, in varying staging of fullness, all over the front and back seats. The type to keep driving around the block until the song ends. Also the type to have really deep conversations with his passengers, and drive them out to really far away and scenic locations.

Hidan

If you have somewhere important to go, and need a ride, it’s best not to ask Hidan. He is the sort who always insists he knows a shortcut or a quicker route to every destination ... and ends up hopelessly lost. Can’t read a map to save his life and for some reason won’t trust a car’s gps system to guide him ((has some pretty crazy conspiracy theories about the voice behind the system)). Easily distracted by any and everything (both inside and outside of car), which makes being his passenger a bit daunting. Like Kakuzu, is a very fast driver, but infinitely more cautious as he has a LOT of tickets wracked up and isn’t looking to add more.

Really loves Led Zeppelin and Johnny Cash; has a visor full of those CD’s and will play those rather than listen to the radio. Also has a butt-load of swear word laden and inappropriate humor bumper stickers.

Pein

Who needs a car when motorcycles exist? This guy has a classic hog that he keeps in mint condition, that he rides around wherever he goes. Every year he’ll try and convince his close friends to ditch their boring cars for something more sublime, only to be met sure emphatic No’s each time. Is very protective over his baby and will go ballistic over even the tiniest nick or scrape. Drives at a normal speed when by himself, but will drive just a bit faster when carting around a friend (especially if it’s a female friend). Doesn’t really like to wear a helmet himself but will insist on any passengers putting one on. Prefers the quiet of the open road but if in a musical mood it’s always 80’s hair bands; a lot of Def Leppard, Quiet Riot, Van Halen. Can do a variety of tricks on his bike but doesn’t do them often as he doesn’t like to “mess up” his baby any more than necessary.

Sasori

Absolutely 100% HATES driving. Has massive anxiety anytime he has to get behind the wheel, almost to the point where he’d need to take a sedative just to relax. Drives slower than the slowest driver you can think of. Yellow light? Slow down. Green light? Still slow down. Will drive himself to and from work, but any other time would prefer being a passenger in someone else’s car ((in which case he becomes the worst backseat driver in history)), or simply taking the bus. Doesn’t like giving rides to others but if he must, it’ll be a very tense, silent drive (forget about him turning on the radio and ‘breaking his concentration’), and he’ll freak out if a passenger takes their seatbelt off before the car comes to a complete stop. Also has a hyper-awareness to anything that might possibly be wrong with his car; if that check engine light comes on you can bet he’ll be at the mechanic in a heartbeat. Also the type who feels “uncomfortable” if gas tank is below 3/4 full.

Konan

The type who’s always heading somewhere/running errands, and will ask if you need a ride. Very neat and organized car, and always suspiciously shiny (as if she visits the carwash every other day). Seems to know absolutely everybody; is always waving at or honking to people in other cars. Keeps the radio volume down when she has passengers, but when alone she loves to sing at the top of her lungs to 90’s boy bands (her rendition of I Want It That Way by The Backstreet Boys is American-Idol worthy). Is always prepared for anything, especially in the winter; in her trunk is a shovel, an extra blanket, water bottles and protein bars, even emergency flares. May be pretty and delicate but definitely knows her way around a car; can change a tire or check the oil with the best of them.

Kisame

Has very long legs, so needs a car or truck that provides him ample room to stretch. A very relaxed and mellow driver, always puts whoever’s with him immediately at ease. Doesn’t use air fresheners in his car but inside always smells like whatever his cologne is, which is always yummy. Gets a lot of fast-food but always keeps the bags and wrappers stored neatly in a little garbage bag that he empties out daily. Will let his passengers do pretty much anything in his car EXCEPT smoke; he can’t stand the smell of tobacco. Isn’t really a Point A to Point B driver; will always think of other places to stop or visit en-route to his destination. Big fan of Musical music; his all-time favorite cd is the soundtrack to Grease. Also (when by himself) is a car-emoter; Kisame doesn’t let most people see anything but his cheerful side. Bring alone in his car is the only time he’ll cry, or scream, or express anger regarding events or people.

Obito

The type of driver who very often spaces out and “forgets” that he’s driving. Prefers traveling more with animals than with people; most likely to take his dog on a weeklong broad trip. Has been a smoker since his teenage years but is trying to quit, so in his car is the only place he “allows” himself a cigarette (but only when he’s completely alone). Almost started a fire once when he threw a still-lit cigarette out the window, but it flew into the backseat instead. Drives fairly slow unless he’s in a hurry for something (but even then his foot doesn’t press the gas pedal THAT much harder). His musical tastes depend on his mood but whatever he ends up listening to is always car-shakingly loud. Seems to have a new (and interesting) trinket hanging from his rear-view mirror every week. The kind who drives around for several days with his gas tank close to/touching on E because ”he knows his car, it’s fine”.

#the akatsuki #driving #vroom vroom #deidara #sasori #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #zetsu #pein #konan #kakuzu #kisame #hidan

122 notes · View notes

1234-angelika · 3 years

Text

Seven Months

an:Hey y'all! I'm really happy to be back on schedule and all caught up, for the most part anyways. This is the fourth installment of the Happily Ever After series for Spencer. As always, hope y'all enjoy!

words:1.1 k

warnings:none

summary:"The secret to a happy relationship is two happy people." -Naval Ravikant

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

The seven months with Spencer since your first date had been nothing short of amazing.

You spent as much time together as your schedules allowed for. It wasn’t only Spencer’s schedule that was restricting yours was too. With work and med school, plus making time to study, you were extremely busy. And with his schedule, he was constantly away for about a week at a time but, that just made you enjoy your time with him more. Off-handedly, you had brought up the subject of meeting families and his team, not putting too much thought into the conversation. Spence would tense instantly whenever the matter was brought up so, you left it alone. Making sure to reassure him that you were up to meeting them whenever Spencer felt ready.

It was a few weeks before he really warmed up to the idea, actually bringing up the idea over a light night phone call while he was away. He suggested that it was time that you met the team, and you couldn’t agree fast enough. You offered the café as more of a neutral place for the meeting. The two of you chatted and planned for Friday after the team returned from their case since they were scheduled to come back on Wednesday.

The sun peeked through the curtains you had forgotten to close the night before and woke you up. Rolling over, you shoved your face into a pillow and groaned. You climbed out of bed after a couple minutes of contemplating whether or not to cancel meeting the team, and your stomach was in knots. You got up and got ready for the day, skipping all food—your stomach too uneasy to actually keep anything down—and settled for a comforting cup of coffee. Then you headed out for class. You didn’t have work until the afternoon because you were in class the entire morning.

As you sat in the lecture hall, you knew how important the material was, but you were only taking in about half of it, even with the notes. Your mind was unable to focus on anything but the upcoming meeting at the café. When your last class of the morning let out, you were out of the building before anyone could stop you and hurrying toward the bus stop. Luckily, you managed to make the bus, and as soon as it left the station, you felt yourself begin to fall asleep. You dozed on and off for the entire ride, waking up just in time for your stop.

You greeted your co-workers who were behind the counter as you made your way to the back room. You took a couple minutes to change into your uniform and give yourself a pep-talk, hyping yourself up for your shift and your afternoon meeting. Then, you punched in for the day. Making your way out to the front, you relieved some of your co-workers and then got started. All you could think about, though, was how eager you were to meet them just a couple days ago, but now, it all seemed like the set-up of a bad dream.

Doing your best to keep busy, you hustled and bustled behind the counter, doing anything that would keep your hands and mind occupied. You even asked your co-worker to work on cash so you could play barista for the day. Another poor attempt to distract yourself from your nerves. A lot rested on the result of this meeting, and that was weighing heavily on your shoulders. His team was basically his family—he had told you this—and if they didn’t like you, you were sure the relationship wouldn’t last too much longer.

The bell above the door jingled, signalling that new customers had arrived. Looking up, you saw it was Spencer and a group of people; he gave you a sly smile and gently guided his team over to the couches. Once they were settled, he walked over to the counter where you were standing with a smile. Of course, he smiled back, and that action in itself offered you a tremendous amount of comfort. And then he began rattling off the drink orders. You punched them into the register with ease before telling Spencer the total. He paid in full, leaving behind a generous tip in the jar.

You whirled around behind the counter, expertly making the drinks. One by one, you placed them on the counter. Spencer made a few trips back and forth to bring the drinks to his colleagues, and you watched as Spencer sat down and the group immediately launched into conversation. When the team had been at the café for an hour, you offered free refills and replaced the empty cups with new, full ones for those who wanted them. As you left the drinks on the table, you heard a question that was directed at Spencer.

“So, when is this girl going to get here? I thought you said she’d be here by five.”

Hurriedly, so you wouldn’t be caught eavesdropping, you made your way back to the counter. Your booked shift didn’t end for another half an hour, and since your other co-worker had already left, you couldn’t clock out early. Just a few minutes before the half-hour mark, your co-worker Jodi came up behind you to relieve you of your work. You were hasty in clocking out before changing back into your other clothes and gathering your belongings. Then you walked over to Spencer and his team. When he noticed you, he stood up to greet you with a hug before bringing you back to the group.

“Hey Spence, who’s this?” A blonde woman asked, staring at you curiously.

“Everyone, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” Spencer said, standing beside you with a smile. It was silent for a couple seconds, and then one of his teammates broke it.

“Boy genius! How did you land a smoke show like this one?!” The man asked incredulously, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

“Y/N meet Derek,” Spencer said, conducting the introduction.

“Well Derek,” you began, “he caught my eye but, he was actually the one to make the first move. He used his charms and as they say, the rest is history.”

Spencer introduced you to the rest of his colleagues, none of them having quite an animated reaction as Derek to the news. However, once the introductions were over, you didn’t know why you were nervous in the first place. His team was amiable and welcomed you with broad smiles and open arms. They made you feel like you were a part of their family like you had known them forever.

taglist: @multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife @sparklykeylime @gspenc

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #happilyeverafter #hea

51 notes · View notes

svnaslove · 3 years

Text

beach trip with fukurodani

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ; [requested;anon] hcs of beach trip with Fukurodani where reader has a crush on Bokuto

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; my bad writing

this turned into more of a story than a hcs, sorry😭(but i promise this is worthwhile this is so cute skjsjsj)

ok ok ok when you heard there was going to be a beach trip with the boys fukurodani volleyball team and you were invited you were ecstatic !!

but then...

you remembered that your CRUSH, BOKUTO was gonna be there

jesus christ

now this was going to be an anxiety induced trip

bokuto with his sunshine of a smile and beautiful personality and muscles and the fact he’s gonna be in swimming trousers....

YOU NEED TO STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT

but then you think about how YOU’RE going to be in a bikini

um 😳

you’d have to be either nuts or v confident to reveal yourself in a bikini and not be a tiny bit nervous because you are surrounded by a bunch of 17-18 year old guys

at least the managers were going to be there and they were all girls so you were a little bit more relaxed (unless you’re into girls too sjkjks)

so comes the day for the beach trip

you went to fukurodani yourself, a second year and you were invited by yukie, one of the managers

she was one of your best friends and she’s trying to get you closer to bokuto *eyebrows* *eyebrows*

you took 2 third year classes that you shared w him and that’s how you ended up knowing him and started to have feelings for him

the whole team plus the managers went together on the bus they used to ride to games, so you know what that means

ya in the bus too love <3

anxiously, you made your way to the back of the bus with yukie dragged behind you, taking a seat on the same side as the door of the bus at a window seat

“im so nervous”

yukie just looked at you and said “he likes you too dummy”

your brain: SKJSJKJKFLSKFJSDKJ HUH

she’s just smiling slyly and takes a huge bite out of her food she had packed

“watch, bokuto’s coming to the bus now. guess what’s gonna happen. i’ll do it for you. he’s gonna look like he’s freaking out and blabber to poor akaashi next to him about how nervous he is that you’re actually in the beach trip with us, and then when he gets on the bus you two are gonna lock eyes or something because you’re so dumb for each other and then he’ll do that hey hey hey thing and come sit near us and start talking to you.” she declared inbetween bites

you scoffed, “yeah, as if.”

“he’s very easy to read, you’ll see” she says

you rolled your eyes at her, there was no way she could be right about this

but-

wtf 🧍‍♀️

you looked out the window and saw bokuto and akaashi walking over to the bus, bokuto rambling nervously to akaashi, akaashi had a sympathetic look and bokuto couldn’t stop fiddling with his fingers. must be a habit he picked up from akaashi.

you looked to yukie and she wore a smug look.

the two boys walked in, bokuto in front

you looked at him to see that he had been looking at you, you two locked eyes and you heard yukie laugh

a soft pink taint made it’s way to bokuto’s cheeks and your own

“hEY HEY HEY WHO’S READY FOR THE BEACH” bokuto laughed trying to snap out of the trance of locking eyes with you and came and sat DEAD RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU

im-

“wtf yukie is this staged or something”

“im the mama manager, never doubt the mama manager” she winked

well now we have a future teller.

you looked over to yukie and whispered, ”if you’re the ‘mama’ manager i wouldn’t suppose you know why he does that hey hey hey thing do you?”

she smiled, “it’s how he gains confidence when he’s nervous” she winked again, taking another bite of her granola bar

the bus’s engine starts and you’re now all on your way to the beach

bokuto turned around in his seat with the biggest smile, “hey y/n-chan- is it okay if i call you y/n-chan? i was wondering what your number was so we could add it to the groupchat in case you get lost at the beach :)”

SLY ASS BITCH

you gave him your number and told him it was okay to call you y/n-chan

hOW-

maybe ya girl yukie was right, he did have a thing for you too, you will never doubt mama yukie again 😔

you all are nearly at the beach, you can already see the ocean, the coach is just trying to find a spot to park in when bokuto turns around in his seat again, “HEY HEY HEY, Y/N-CHAN DO YOU WANT TO GO TO THE OCEAN WITH ME WHEN WE ALL GET CHANGED?”

poor bby you

rED AS A TOMATO

“i- uhm, yes thank you bokuto-kun” you smile

at this point you just want to sTRANGLE YUKIE BECAUSE SHE HAS SUCH A SHIT EATING SMIRK

ITS DRIVING YOU CRAZY

“oooo~ go to the ocean with yo manz y/n” she whispered, poking your side

screaming internally because yukie is teasing you nonstop and bokuto jUST ASKED YOU TO HANG OUT W HIM SKJFS

you guys find a spot to park and start unloading and walking towards the beach

ah it felt so nice, the sound of the waves, the sand under your feet and the warm sun

everyone for the most part had changed, you had to hold yourself back when you saw bokuto, wHY WAS HE SO MUSCULAR

bite bokuto’s muscles 2021

you dazed out staring a little too long at bokuto and his v-line

yukie had to push you into the changing room to get you to “stop being weird” as she put it 😭😭

you were just admiring the view 😭

when you walked out, everyone was still around talking to each other but you noticed eyes stealing glances of you here and there

and then you noticed bokuto from a bit far back, was he-

was he-

checking you out?

you literally short-circuited

rip y/n 2020

his cheeks were flushed, akaashi next to him, seemed like he was trying to hold back a laugh

close ur mouth bokuto

ur already dead idk how ur blushing too

you walk up to him and he’s like “you look really good y/n” all dazed out

cue akaashi hitting him in the back of the head and walking away for bokuto to stop being h word

he nervously laughs, “let’s go?”

he rented two boogie board while you were changing and surprised you w it awee

so you two go into the water, deeper, and deeper in and there’s like no one around and it just feels natural??

like you’re both not that nervous as much as before and it’s just fun

you got smacked on the face by a wave and he started laughing only to get hit in the face by an even bigger wave

you had to pull him up from underwater lksdjfdklsfj

and now bokuto’s hair is... down?

excuse me sir this is not allowed

stop playing with y/n’s heart, y/n can’t take it they’re gonna die again

u just zone out looking at how pretty he looks with his hair down and he’s all laughing because he had to be saved and then he relaxes, still smiling and looking at you

is this gonna happen?

i think it’s gonna happen

he gets a little serious now

you’ve never seen him calm down to this point

“y/n... i.. i like you, like, alot” he let out a small laugh to relieve the tension

you can’t think of words to use to reciprocate your feelings to him so you just do it

you throw the boogie board from under you to the side and just hold his face and kiss him

bokuto was surprised, he tensed for a quarter of a second before relaxing and enjoying your kiss

his arms held your legs up around his waist underwater so you didn’t have to kick up while kissing him

he tasted of salt water from the previous fall

mid kiss he started smiling in the kiss

“i’ve been waiting for this for a long time you know.”

you can’t help but to smile, “me too”

and you both just start softly laughing with each other

he bring you out of the water and you’re both holding hands, “let me treat you to some ice cream” he said

the whole team notices you two coming out of the water and holding hands and they’re all like

$#(#$*()??WHAT???#$#)$*#(SLKDJFDSKL

akaashi is slightly surprised that bokuto managed to do that so fast but happy for him

the rest of the team was just “BOKUTO???DID??IT???”

they knew from the beginning that he liked you since he’s always talking about how pretty you looked in class to akaashi and how you make him so nervous and how he wishes he had the courage to talk to you and they all know how they set up yukie, conveniently enough being your best friend to invite you to the beach trip so that bokuto could make some kind of move

BUT DAMN BOKUTO

THAT WAS FAST

you two are just giggling the rest of the day with each other holding hands and hanging out together

IT’S SO CUTE SJDFLKDSJ

when it got to sundown it started getting colder, you didn’t expect for it to get cooler so you didn’t bring a jacket

bokuto had a baggy jacket on and he just told you to come cuddle up on his chest and he closed the jacket with the two of you inside

yukie was about to cry because he was so DAMN SWEET

she took pictures for you because what’s a best friend for

the sun’s setting and the sky is gorgeous, a mix of pinks and oranges with wispy clouds and the ocean right in front of you

bokuto’s sitting behind you and you’re sitting in front of him and his legs are wrapped around you and you’re inside his jacket w him and he just leans in and plants a soft kiss on your cheek, “will you be my s/o?” he asks softly, nearly a whisper

when you say yes his heart springs and he hugs you tight

when you two get back on the bus to go home you two sit together, you both end up falling asleep together, falling on each other and you had his jacket on since he got hot but you were still cold

yukie definetly took a picture of that too

234 notes · View notes