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specialagentlokitty · 3 months

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Hannibal lector x teen!reader - ensure you’re safe

Hi 👋🏻 Saw you wanted to try to write for Hannibal characters and for me the easiest way to start writing for Hannibal was to write like a therapy session with Hannibal. So thought maybe you could write teen!reader or just regular reader at a therapy session with Hannibal, of course there’s no worries if you don’t write it, just thought it might help you out <3 I will probably request something with Will later as he’s my fave character but can’t come up with anything right now - @panic-in-the-multiverse 💜

TW: mentions of abusive parents

Sitting outside in the waiting room to your new therapists office, you sighed heavily, pulling your headphones back over your head.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, a large part of you wanted to just leave, but you had to be there, the officer sitting next to you was there to make sure of that.

But just because you had to be there didn’t mean you had to say anything, or actually take part, you simply just had to attend the session.

You watched as a bit of paper was held out in front of your face, and you sighed, turning your gaze to the man sitting next to you, pulling your headphones back down.

“What?” You snapped.

“Don’t be rude, keep your headphones down, and please try take part.”

“I don’t see why I have to, I didn’t do shit wrong.”

“Well, apparently everybody else sees differently kiddo, so please try.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him, pulling your headphones back over your head to carry on blocking out of the world.

You weren’t paying all that much attention, but you did notice when the officer next to you stood up and you turned your head to look at him in uninterest as he spoke to the man who came out of the office.

Then he turned back to you and pushed your headphones down.

“You’re up kid, I’ll wait out here to take you home but then you’re on your own to make sure you come to these sessions, got it? Twice a week.”

“Get lost Daniels.”

“Alright, but remember no wondering off because we’ll know.”

You just scowled and he grinned a little at you, holding up your bag for you to take as you stood up.

“This is Doctor Hannibal Lector, he’s going to be your new therapist, be polite, respectful, and remember to keep your temper.” Daniels warned.

You said nothing as he left, and you turned to the therapist.

“Hello (Y/N), would you like to come in?”

You set your bag down and sat down back in the chair you were waiting in.

Hannibal smiled slightly, and closing his office door, walking over to sit next to you, sitting forward slightly, clasping his hands together.

He took a moment to study you, how uninterested you were, the fact you wouldn’t even look at him, you were dressed in ripped jeans, well worn trainers, a hoodie.

But it was your face that he was drawn to, the stitches on your eyebrow, a little bit of dried blood just at the side, clearly you had ripped one or two earlier that day. What looked to be a broken nose, split lip, and from the brief glance of your knuckles he had gotten they were bruised and blooded.

He made a few mental notes before he finally spoke first, seeing you weren’t going to initiate a conversation with him.

“Would you like to start by telling me a little bit about yourself?” He asked.

“No.”

“Well, how about we start with why you’re here. Why have you been referred to me (Y/N)?”

“You have my file. You know why.” You grumbled.

“Yes, I am aware this is court mandated therapy. I would like to know why you think you were sentenced to therapy, what are your thoughts about this?”

You didn’t say anything, you just slumped down in the chair, pulling your hood up so he wasn’t able to look at you.

“You have no interest in being here.” He noted.

“Nope.”

“I see, yet you’re staying for what reason? What happens if you walk out of those doors before our session has ended?”

You didn’t say anything, and he just sat there silently for the rest of the session with you.

Every session went the same, you would sit outside, refuse to come in or answer his questions, then the pair of you would sit outside the office while he read or made notes and you listened to your music.

It went that way for nearly two months, and Hannibal followed the same routine this time around, opening his office door and you looked up at him.

He paused, taking in your bloodied hoodie and nose.

“(Y/N), what happened?” He asked.

You got up, and he stepped aside, holding the door for you as you walked in for the first time since you began to see him.

Hannibal carefully closed the door, watched as you walked around until you stopped by the ladders and you sat down on them.

“There are more comfortable places to sit if you would prefer.”

“I’m fine.”

He hummed a little bit, sitting in a chair as he looked over at you.

You were one to keep your distance, so he wanted to respect that boundary and stayed where he was on the other side of the room.

“Are you? In the two months that we have known one another you have never stepped foot inside my office until now. Today is the only day you have come in looking as if you were in a fight just before arriving.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I have read your file numerous times, you’re known for your rather unpleasant temper, you have been arrest on multiple occasions for assault, your most previous charge is listed as aggregated assault.”

“So what?” You snapped slightly.

“There is no need to get angry, I am not here to judge you. I am simply here to assist you, find out why you are so angry all the time and what led to your anger.”

You pulled the sleeve of your hoodie down, pressing it to your nose, wiping some of the blood on it.

Hannibal got up, walking over he took the handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to you, making sure he kept his distance.

“I don’t need your help…” you grumbled.

“Well, blood can be rather hard to wash out of clothing, you may ruin your jacket if you keep that up.”

“It’s a hoodie.”

Hannibal chuckled slightly.

“Very well, you will ruin your hoodie.”

“Like I said, don’t need your help.”

Hannibal sighed, laying the handkerchief down on the floor just a few steps away from your and he clasped his hands behind his back.

“You are a deeply mistrusting person, I understand that. But perhaps if you are willing to give someone a chance you will see that some people can be trusted.”

You glanced up at him, then quickly averted your gaze, going back to looking at the floor instead, but he knew you were watching him.

You had your head lowered, but just barely high enough to look at his shoes.

“Who hurt you?” He pressed carefully.

“What makes you think I didn’t start it?”

“The lack of bruises or scrapes on your hands, your clothes are rather dirty, defensive wounds I would say. Am I correct?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“Maybe I just like it, getting into fights and all.”

“I have a reason that perhaps you don’t enjoy it.”

You looked up at Hannibal, getting up and you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans.

“Maybe I do. Maybe it fun, beating the crap out of someone until their blood is all over their face, watching as they beg me to stop, to leave them alone. Maybe I like the fear in the eyes.” You taunted.

“Is that so?”

Hannibal watched as you studied him, getting a read on him, trying size him up to see if you could take him on in a fight or not.

“Do you want to hurt me (Y/N)?”

You didn’t say anything.

“Who do you really want to hurt? When you get into all these fights you claim to enjoy, who do you think off when you’re knocking them to the ground and beating them within an inch of their lives?”

“No one.”

“Anybody with that much rage thinks of somebody, targets somebody.”

You just scoffed, making your way past him to head to the door.

You left without another wait, having reached the exact time limit of the session and Hannibal walked over to his desk, opening his book.

He wrote down what you had told him, and sat reflecting on it.

Clearly you were an angry person, you were a teenager with a lot of anger and hatred, but not at the world.

It was directed at one single person, because if your anger was random he had no doubt in his mind you would’ve already tried to attack him, but you didn’t.

You simply just refused to acknowledge whatever he said, you didn’t attempt to hurt him.

Intimidate? Yes. But not hurt.

It was a few days when your next session came around, and you walked into the office once more, taking a seat in your usual spot, this time a little more slowly.

Hannibal frowned, but carried on his session.

And he began to pick up on every time you came into the sessions either hurt, or fresh out of a fight.

And the timeframe between these seemed to get smaller and smaller, up until the point today.

Hannibal opened his door and you looked worse than ever as you pushed past him, dripping some blood on to the floor, limping into the middle of the room.

You took a few shoe breaths and he closed the door, making his way over to you.

“(Y/N), can you hear me?”

You slowly turned to him, nodding your head, stumbling a couple of steps.

“Tell me what happened? Who did this to you?”

You shook your head, slowly sitting down on the floor so you wouldn’t have to get blood on any of his furniture.

“Stay here, I will call the police, and for an ambulance.”

“No!”

Hannibal turned at your outburst, and you looked at him, rage with slight fear mixed in your eyes.

“Don’t you dare, don’t… don’t call anyone…” you warned.

“Alright.”

Hannibal set his phone back down and he walked over, kneeling down in front of you, resting an arm on his leg.

“Tell me what happened.”

You took a small breath, leaning back on one of your hands.

“I fucked up… real bad doctor Lector… like.. like real bad…”

“I need you to tell me what happened.” He pressed carefully.

You sighed a little bit.

“He got drunk again, got pissed, I talked back. He swung for me so I fought back, hit him with a chair. She got pissed at me, pushed me down a few stairs.”

“Who is the ‘he’ you keep referring to?”

“My dad.”

Hannibal nodded his head.

“I assume the ‘she’ would then be your mother?”

“Bingo, right on the money doc. I can see why you’re a therapist.”

Hannibal noticed how you deflected the serious topic with unserious remarks or a slightly snappy tone towards him.

“I see, you are aware that I have to call the police, and I strongly recommend you allow me to take you to the hospital. A fall down the stairs is not something to take so lightly.”

“You call police and I’m gone.”

“Why?”

You stayed quiet, shifting a little with pain and he sighed.

“You have strong issues with authority, but unfortunately I have to call them, I have a duty of care to ensure your well-being. Which means if I suspect that someone or yourself will cause you harm I have to report it. I can request to be with you every step of the way if that makes you comfortable.”

You pushed yourself up with a grunt of pain, stumbling a few steps backwards and Hannibal quickly stood up, placing his hand on your back to keep you stable.

You moved away quickly, and made your way to the door.

“At least allow me to take you to the hospital.” Hannibal said.

He turned around to get his keys from his desk and when he turned around you were gone.

He sighed, picking up his phone in order to call for your parole officer.

He had had the number his his phone since the first session, but he had never had to call the officer about you.

Not until now.

He quickly relayed on the fact that you had come into his officer severely injured.

You hadn’t made it far when Daniels picked you up, despite the fact you tried running you couldn’t exactly outrun a police officer in your injured state and you were taken to the hospital.

The ran some tests, stitched up your cuts, and placed you in a room while you awaited the results of your tests.

“So, want to tell me what happened?” Daniels asked.

“Go fuck yourself.” You growled.

“Hey, I want to help kid. But I can’t if I don’t know what happened to you.”

“You know what happened you prick, you all know what happened but you won’t do fuck all about it!”

“Calm down right now.”

“Or what?!”

You ripped the IV out of your arm, and you stood up, nearly falling to the side but you didn’t falter.

Daniels stood up as well.

“You can’t do shit.”

“Look, doctor lector is on his way, and they’re taking your parents in for questioning right now but you need to stay here.”

“Like fuck do I have to stay here. You can’t hold me for shit.”

You barged past him, throwing down the tray as he tried to follow you.

It would stall him for a few minutes while nurses and doctors quickly tried to gathering everything up so nobody would get hurt.

You left the hospital, making your way to your usual hideout spot when you didn’t want to go home.

It wasn’t the best, an old and abandoned construction site, but it was full of more than enough hiding places, and you went to your favourite one.

Sitting in the concrete pipe, you rested your back on a blanket you had in there, closing your eyes as you breathed through the discomfort.

Your phone was ringing endlessly, and you turned it off, getting bored of hearing the sound.

Though the silence was helpful when it came to hearing the creaking of the large metal gate being opened and closed.

“(Y/N), I know you’re here, come out so we can talk!” Hannibal called.

You stayed quiet.

You knew he would eventually and it only took a few minutes for him to appear at the entrance to your hiding spot.

He offered you a gentle smile.

“You need to go back to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Your parents are currently in custody, you’re safe. Nobody here is going to hurt you, nobody there will hurt you either.”

You scoffed.

“You really believe that? Give it a day or two, they’ll be back out.”

“Yet you always go back, why?”

“Because I have to, court order. Every. Single. Time.”

Hannibal sighed, and he offered you a reassuring smile.

“Come with me, I assure you that no more harm will come to you.”

You didn’t believe him, you simply just left the other end of the pipe you were sat in and Hannibal got up to follow you.

“You have internal bleeding, if you do not go back to the hospital you’ll die within hours.”

“Great, makes life easier for everybody. Gives me a way out.”

“Do you wish to die?”

You paused, giving the man a chance to walk over to you and stand in front of you.

“Do you wish to die (Y/N)?”

“No.”

“So, allow me to take you back to the hospital then. We will let the surgeons fix whatever inside you is bleeding, then when you wake up I will be right there waiting.”

“Yeah, and they’ll be there too.”

“You have my word, you parents will not be allowed in the room.”

You scoffed.

“Yeah, I’ll take my chances bleeding internally.”

“What if I can prove to you that they won’t be allowed in the same room as you?”

This seemed to gain your interested, and he gestured to the front of the construction sight.

“Do you see that man over there?”

You nodded.

“His name is Jack Crawford, he works for the FBI. He has read over your case file, he along with another agent will be outside your room the entire time you are there in recovery while we sort a safer place for you.”

Hannibal held his hand out to you.

“Do you trust me, even just a little bit?”

You looked at him, and you slowly nodded your head.

Hannibal smiled, walking over and he reached out, wrapping his arm around you, letting you hold his other arm to steady yourself while you both walked.

“They will never hurt you again (Y/N).”

Hannibal helped you into his car and got into the drivers seat, adjusting the mirror, wiping the little bit of blood that was on it so you wouldn’t see it

#hannibal #Hannibal x reader #Hannibal x you #Hannibal imagine #Hannibal lector #hannibal lector x reader #Hannibal lector x you #Hannibal lector imagine

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mismatched-sockss · 6 days

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» Summary: You and Emily have been seeing each other for a couple of months now -without anyone knowing -, but can't keep being her secret. » Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!BAU!Reader » Word count: 3,9k (omg, when??) » Warnings: angst, it's implied that reader is outed - Emily isn't, allusions to intercourse in the beginning, mentions of (internalized) homophobia, mentions of coming out (forced coming out is mentioned, one (1) small implication of conversion therapy like stuff (it's only talked about, no details or anything close)) and unsupportive family, mentions of Emily's mother probably not accepting her sexuality (like Rosa Diaz' mother/parents in Brooklyn 99, and a thing or two my own mother said), Emily is kind of mean ig?, cheating but not really?, cm typical stuff is mentioned (not detailed), kind of open but definitively more leaning to a sad ending; please let me know if i missed anything! » A/N: written for @imagining-in-the-margins' Pride Challenge, i used the “It’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.” dialogue prompt; also inspired by Say something I'm giving up on you by Sam Redden; tenses? i don't know her here; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

The euphoric bliss that had flooded over you just moments before, leaves your body with every passing second, and the more it wears out, the more the dreadful empty feeling that had slithered its way into your heart not too long ago takes its place. Your breathing is still going fast and your heart hasn't had enough time to slow down yet, when you narrow your eyes while looking at the ceiling. Why did you do this to yourself? Again. This couldn't go on like this.

"I can't do this any more."

You can hear Emily move next to you, turning her head to look at you. She is breathing fast and her warm breath hits your bare shoulder. "What do you mean?" She brushes a few stands of her hair back that had fallen over her eyes.

All of a sudden everything is getting too much. The sensation of sweat running down the back of your neck, the air Emily is exhaling and how it is hitting your skin, over all her presence next to you in the bed. Her bed. Naked.

With a scoff you sit up and bury you face in your hands before you slide them up, racking your fingers through your damp hair. "This. Us. I just- I can't go on like this, spending my nights with you and act as if I haven't touched every inch of your body the next day."

Today is not the first time you had said it out loud and talked about it with her, about wanting to be able to hold and kiss her around other people. It is not the first time you are thinking about this, about leaving because nothing changed event though she had promised and her reasons – excuses , really, at this point – had been valid in the beginning, but now, every time she comes up with a new one they sound more and more made up. Honestly, you can't remember the newest one to a full extent – it had been so absurd –, but it had something to do with her shoes. Like, come on, really? Shoes...?

For a short moment it is silent except for both your breathing. You wait, and when she doesn't say anything you get up to get dressed. Nothing more than your name leaves Emily's lips, and not louder than a whisper, as you walk around the room to pick up your clothes and put them back on. “What?” you say flatly, but you don't look at her. You close the button of your pants and look around the room for your second sock.

“It's good what we are having. I like it how it is.” She shuffles closer, crawling over to edge of the mattress. “And sneaking around is exciting, isn't it?”

You crouch down to pull the missing sock from under the bed and bite down on your lip as your heart clenched painfully. Sneaking around?

“Is that what this is to you? Just... Sneaking around? That's all it is, huh.” A dry laugh leaves your lips as you slip the sock over your foot and then turn to walk out of the room.

“Oh c'mon, Y/N. It's fun, isn't it?” – Fun?! So this was just fun for her? – “You and I, we... It's enough how it is, don't you think?”

With one step out of the bedroom, the other foot still inside, you look back over your shoulder. “All this hiding is enough for you?” You don't fully turn around, you don't want to face her and look into her eyes. Don't want Emily to see the tears that are starting to pool in your eyes or how much her words are breaking your heart.

“I'm not hiding”, she says, defending herself, totally ignoring what you really meant.

You shake your head and leave the room, picking up your bag from the couch in the living room as you walk past it. “You are. And I get it, you're not out and that's okay.” Emily gets up from the bed and quickly puts on a bathrobe before she follows you out, watching you collect your things and walking to the front door. “You shouldn't come out unless you are ready. But at least be honest with yourself-”

“I am. not. hiding”, she interrupts you, her voice sounds strained and as if she is speaking through gritted teeth. The soft pat pat of her bare feet on the floor stop just two meters behind you.

Something in you snaps. "Yeah well, you are hiding me and I'm sick of being your god damn dirty little secret! I love you for fucks sake!"

You freeze as soon as the words leave your mouth, in the middle of putting on your jacket, and for a moment neither of you says a word, the silence seems louder than anything else, louder than how loud you just yelled those words. It was the first time either of you had said those three words to the other and the timing could not be any worse.

"You... What?"

You shake your head, breaking out of your frozen state and bend down to put on your shoes next. "Forget it. I'm done." is what you say. We're done is what you mean.

You wish she would at least say something, but Emily stays silent and when you reach for the door and open it, she doesn't keep you from walking out. When you close the door behind you, she doesn't open it again to call out for you. And when you reach the stairs at the end of the hallway and take the first steps down, the door stays closed and she doesn't run after you.

She let you leave like it was nothing, like you were nothing. Like all the time you had spent together meant nothing to her. All those days and nights full of hushed voices whispering sweet nothings to each other, full of soft touches and even softer kisses. Emily let you walk out of her apartment, her life, as if you never meant anything to her, like the last six months indeed were nothing more than fun to her.

From the moment you step out of the door of Emily's apartment building, to the moment you walk in and close the door of your own, you feel numb and you operated solely on autopilot on your way home. If someone were to ask you what route you had taken home or if you missed a red light even, you wouldn't be able to tell them.

As if a it hasn't been enough for one night, you get called into work just 30 minutes later; the body of a young woman had been found, tortured and mutilated, and another young woman had been abducted only five miles from where the body was found.

When you arrive in the round table room you greet your team mates grimly and you are relieved that you got in before Emily. When she enters minutes later, you don't turn around, you don't say hello and you do your best to ignore her. The tension in the room is palpable and judging by the looks the others shoot between her and you, they know that something had happened between you two.

They didn't know that you were dating – hooking up? What ever the fuck it had been to her anyway –, but you didn't have to be a profiler or even know either of you personally to see that something was up. Hotch is kind enough to not team the two of you up, sending you to the disposal site with Rossi instead.

The days since you walked out of Emily's apartment turned into weeks. The days turned into weeks since you last talked, like really talked. You had kept your distance to her as much as you could, trying to sort out your feelings and trying to see if she would take a step in your direction, to see if she even cared at all.

But, slowly but surely you had to accept the fact, that everything pointed to her not caring about you. Every conversation with her was strictly professional, talking about the cases was the only time you spoke to each other. Not a day goes by when you don't wish she would say something more to you, something personal, something deeper. Something emotional. That she would say something that would keep you from giving up on her. But she never did.

You should have known from the start that this was how it would end, that the only outcome from getting involved with Emily would be that you would end up with a broken heart. Naivety couldn't even begin to describe why you had even wasted a single thought about having a future with her, a happy ending; with Emily, a woman who hasn't come out, a woman with a mother who would be more okay with her daughter being the side chick of some married man, maybe even multiple, than to accept her daughter to be in a relationship with another woman; a mother who says, that she “doesn't care who her daughter ends up with, as long as it isn't someone of the same gender”.

Ever since the night you broke up with Emily – if you could even call it a break up when you weren't even a couple, officially speaking – you cry yourself to sleep and your feelings are bouncing back and forth, scrambling your mind and heart in to a broken, confused mess.

On one side, you are drowning in the shattered pieces of your heart; the pain getting stronger every time you see Emily, the longing and yearning strangling you harder every time you are left alone in a room with her, the floor under your feet crumbling away stone by stone with every day that passes without her reaching out to you. You miss her, you miss her so fucking much, and way more than you would like to admit – even to yourself, which is kind of hypocritical, considering you had told Emily to “be honest to herself”.

On the other side, you are cursing yourself for unintentionally giving her an ultimatum of some sort; not only for going public about your relationship, but therefore also for her to come out, even if only to your team, your friends. It was far from your intentions to pressure Emily into anything she didn't want to do, into something that she wasn't ready for. You never set a time or anything like that, but the implication was there – intended or not – by wanting to go public.

It is scary; coming out... As a woman who loves women, a man who loves men or either loving both. It doesn't matter if you come out as transgender, non-binary or gender-fluid, asexual or aromantic, or … or. ... or ... It doesn't matter who you are or what you feel or who you love: it is hard and scary either way and you never know how the person in front of you will react, even if you think you know.

Coming out to people, to friends, who you trust and know on a deeper level – even when you already for a hundred percent are sure that they will accept you no matter what – is hard enough. Coming out to your family is another kind of scary uncertainty: hoping they will still love you, that they will accept and support you; the fear of them turning their backs on you, cutting you out of their lives and on top of all this, hoping that if this was the case, that this was all they would do, hoping it would stay the lesser kind of evil and that they wouldn't go to any extreme measures to try and “fix” you. It was already hard enough to come out planned and willingly at your own pace. But having to do it for what ever reason? Unimaginable. Cruel.

On more than one evening you dialled Emily's number, your thumb hovering over the green button and ready to press down. Ready to apologize for how you had reacted and what you had said, for pressuring her. Maybe even apologizing for telling her that you loved her –

Wait. What?

Yes, maybe you should swallow your pride and call her first and ask her to talk; but apologizing for your feelings? No, you were done with shoving your feelings down and taking what you could get and stay in a one-sided relationship – letting the person use and play with you while they were stringing you along. For them to give you a slither of requited affection whenever they could feel you slip away, depending on your soft heart and that you would stay in hopes they will requite your feelings, your love, someday. No, you were done slowly dying for unrequited love.

The ball is in her court and it is on her to throw it back or to keep it.

Being around Emily has gotten unbearable these last six weeks. You had never felt like this before, never felt like this for anyone else until you had met her. It was all overwhelming and too much, but not enough at the same time, the feelings overpowering you in the best and worst kind of ways; pushing and pulling at your heart, slowly tearing it apart but also glueing it back together in a wild storm of emotions. You felt like you were just starting to learn how to love, but also knowing exactly how to do it – how to love her, in the right way and with everything you had; heart, body and soul.

But it doesn't seem like your love is enough; enough to save what ever you and Emily had been having, to find your way back into each others arms.

The last straw, the rotten cherry on top, was on a night out with the team to celebrate a successful case at a bar near the FBI building and you walked in on Emily making out with someone else in a dark corner near the restrooms. It was too dark for you to fully see the other person. And for a second you aren't sure what would hurt you more: if she was making out with a man, or with a woman.

You get your answer rather quickly, when Emily sees you and pushes the person away. They stumble back a step or two and then turn their head to follow Emily's gaze. And... it's a woman.

There are no words to describe how you are feeling as the realisation sinks in; leaving you cold and numb. How could you have been so stupid? It had never been about her. Not about the hurtful and homophobic things her mother always says to her, not about her outing, not about her feelings. It had nothing to do with not being ready to come out and go public about your relationship. It had to do with going public about being with you. The problem, her problem, is and always has been you.

Is she really embarrassed about you, about being with you? That's a new one... You wonder if she ever even liked you in the first place.

It feels like an eternity before either of you move again, after just looking at each other.

“W- what are you doing here?” Emily mutters and you see her wince when she realises how stupid that question was.

You scoff and narrow your eyes at her. “Looking for the exit”, you answer her, deadpan, before turning on your heels and walking back to the table where you and your team were sitting to get your things. You don't answer any of their worried questions about what was wrong, you just down the rest of your drink and grab your purse. You get your wallet out and throw a couple of bills on the table to pay for your part of the tab before you walk out of the bar without another word.

You make your way to the office right after you walked out. Last week, you had gotten the offer to transfer back to the IRT again; well, unofficially offered actually. You had only been on Hotch's team for four years; before then, you had worked under Jack Garrett for quiet some time. Occasionally, maybe twice a year, you travelled with them for consultations. So when Matt Simmons goes on paternity leave in a couple of days, you are the first person Garrett asks to come back for the time being and you were happy to do so. Garrett had called you and as you spoke you joked about feeling hurt that he only wanted to keep you for one month. And even though he was joking too when he said he'd be happy to have you back permanently, you knew he meant it.

Just last week you hadn't been sure if you wanted to stay with your current team or go back. The stack of forms that were needed to request a permanent transfer were already sitting in a drawer of your desk, all filled out. The fact that you had filled them out right after the call ended should have told you then, that you already had made up your mind.

When you reach the sixth floor, you hear the ding of the elevator softly echo through the empty halls. You make a beeline to your desk in the bull pen and fish your keys out of your purse to unlock the drawer. Just when you took out the envelope with all the forms and reach down to close the drawer again, you hear the soft ding again, followed by the sound of the doors sliding open.

Your back is turned to the doors so you don't know who walks out of the elevator; you guess it had to be someone on their way to the crime lab or something.

Until you hear your name that is, and you immediately freeze. How the fuck did she know you would be here?

You turn around and see Emily standing in the bull pen, but keeping a distance to you. “Can we talk?” She slowly walks closer and her gaze falls on the envelope. “What are you doing?”

You press the tip of your tongue to your cheek and take a second before you answer. “Paper work.”

“Paper work?”

“Yes.” You pick up your keys and start to walk towards Hotch's office. You don't want to hear what she has to say.

She says your name again and grips your arm to stop you from walking away. “It's not what you think.”

You laugh at the cliche reaction. Of course it's not what you think. It never is, isn't it?

“Okay, what is it then? Tell me”, you challenge her as you turn to look at her, your tone cold and the corners of you lips are twitching to form a bitter smile, “Go on, tell me. Because it seems pretty obvious to me.”

You twist your arm out of her grip and before she even has time to say something, you bite out: “You know what? We're not even together, I don't care what you do and who you do it with. Fuck who ever you want for all I care. Start with your- who ever she is.”

“I don't want to talk about her.”

“Oh, you don't? Too bad. What else is there to talk about then?”

For a moment she opens and closes her mouth, ending her answer before she even spoke it out loud. “I-. I want to talk about u- about you and me.”

When you don't react she nods her head, like she is confirming that you had hear right and that it was indeed what she wanted.

“Really? Now, you suddenly want to talk to me, about us?” She nods again, her eyes wide and she is giving you the best pleading puppy dog eyes she can do.

“No.”

For a moment she is taken aback and she blinks a couple of times. “No?”

You take a step back and cross your arms over your chest. “No. I don't want to talk. The only reason you want to talk, now, is because I saw you. It's too late. You had six weeks to talk, but you didn't. You're too late. I would have followed you anywhere, you know. Wherever you would want me to go. I would have followed you to the end of the fucking world and would even walk farther, falling over the edge into the abyss. I would walk through fire for you and I'd do it with a smile.”

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling it all out; and just like you can't stop the tears that started to run down your face, you can't stop talking. “You're it for me, you are the one I love. And it’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.” You sniffle and bite down on your lip. “You are the one. And if I am not to you, and you don't love me back that's fine but then at least have the balls to fucking tell me, instead of making up excuses why you don't want to tell anybody that we are seeing each other.”

She had put on a mask while you were talking, hiding her true emotions. Yet again, you wait for her to say something. And yet again all you are met with, is silence.

“Say something...”, you say, almost begging. “Just... Say something...”

Nothing. Emily stays silent and just looks at you, a vacant and unreadable expression on her face and in her eyes. The small part in you that is still wishing upon a star and is hoping, that she would come through, waited for her to talk. But it is no use. She stays silent, like all the other times in these last weeks. So much for her wanting to talk.

“Figures”, you scoff, a bitter smile stretching on your lips, and you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I should have given up on you way before I even kissed you”, you say under your breath. You aren't sure if she heard you, but in all honesty, you don't care.

Without wasting another second you turn around and walk up to Hotch's office. You place the envelope with the filled out forms for your immediate transfer in the middle of your Unit Chief's – well, ex Unit Chief's– desk. His signature being the last thing you needed before you could file the request.

You walk out of his office, not sparing even one last look at Emily, who hasn't moved. A few steps after you passed her you stop for a moment to say something for a last time, before you cross the rest of the bull pen and walk out through the glass door; leaving the BAU behind. Leaving her behind.

Two small words, nothing more..

“Goodbye Emily.”

» A/N 2: i really hope i did this justice, especially the (not) coming out parts, tbh i don't think i myself ever really came out, like 'officially', but i have always been open about being bisexual (no idea if my parents ever really connected the dots, but we're no contact either way for different reasons, so what ever) so i'm not sure how well i portrayed it; ...

🌈 Always remember, no matter if you are in the closet or not: you are worthy, you are loved and you are perfect the way you are! Stay safe. 🖤🤎🤍❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosts can write #❤️ e.p.#mentioningmargins #writing challenge #--- mismatched🧦

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eywamygoddesswrites · 1 year

Text

— 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽 — (sully family x fem!sully!reader)

pairing: sully family x fem!omatikaya!sully!reader

tags: mourning, getting therapy

warnings: lowercase intended, implied character death, angst

a/n: characters are aged up! this is inspired by that one tiktok audio and then my curiosity got the better of me and turns out, it was a whole youtube series and i was hooked on it. i've been wanting to make a fic based on that audio for a while but didn't know what characters to use. hope you guys enjoy despite it being angst ㅠㅠ

a/n 2: do you want a longer version of this oneshot? look no further because i will be making a short series based on the youtube series called "LUCIDS" and the masterlist can be found here!

word count: 1.1k

+ gif not mine. ctto.

y/n had been keeping herself busy for the past 3 months. she did everything to keep her mind off of everything. weaving baskets and nets like it was a project to give everyone in the clan, fishing for meals that can have her family full for 5 whole months, collecting and discarding every foraged stuff she could get from her endless walks, riding her ilu further and further beyond the reef just to feel something.

being the oldest of the sully kids was tiring but even being a sister wasn't able to make her feel anything. it was much more numbing than it should be. it made her distant from them.

lo'ak couldn't meet y/n in her eyes. it was like if they looked at each other, the walls they both built would crumble the second their gazes meet. it was like strangers being forced to get to know each other after knowing the horrible crimes they both did.

kiri was very concerned for her older sister. y/n exerts her energy beyond her capacity, does dangerous explorations beyond the reef, and sometimes come back with cuts and bruises, and how she would skip meals to finish all the projects she 'needs' to weave. she was overworking herself and in the 3 months y/n was busy, she had fainted countless times eventually norm and max were called when it kept happening.

tuk missed her big sister so much. she missed collecting pearls by the shore and being carried around while exploring the forest. she was scared at how y/n looked now. from once being a bubbly young adult who was curious and eager to learn something new to a drained-out, almost dead-looking na'vi who would kill people if she saw them looking at her weirdly.

if the three were concerned, imagine how her parents feel. it hurt jake and neytiri to see their oldest overwork herself to distract whatever she was feeling. jake knew how it felt like and he wanted to help his daughter badly. but each time he tried to talk to her, y/n would push him away further and further. she even hissed at him to make her point.

neytiri was angry and concerned. why was her daughter pushing her own mother away when all she wanted to do was help? y/n shouldn't push her away because as her mother, neytiri understands her more than y/n knows, or at least that's what she likes to think.

it was like y/n became a stranger that the sully's just allowed to stay in their home.

when y/n was fishing for dinner, her mind had been wandering elsewhere. her eyes stared down at the net she held as dread slowly filled her mind. it was like her sight was enlarging in front of her until she hears a distorted voice call out her name. "y/n."

she pulled away from her trance, eyes widening as her breathing became slightly erratic. y/n breathed in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth before her attention went to ao'nung, or what looked like ao'nung by the shore.

"hey there! just a quick update. tsireya is still swimming with the ikrans, who were gliding through the mountains on their bellies, then they ate an eye of a seaweed. now, the ilus and tulkans are fighting for some reason." ao'nung said, he was far away from y/n but somehow she heard everything clearly.

"oh… wow…" y/n says, clearly not understanding a single thing from what the metkayina had just said.

"how's your existential crisis coming along?" he asked so nonchalantly.

y/n was bewildered to say the least. this was the longest time she had held a conversation for how many months now.

"uh… fine?" she answered back but it sounded more like a question. "good!" ao'nung exclaimed back before turning around to leave when,

"ao'nung!" y/n immediately called for him, who turned back around to look. "can… can dreams also have memories?" that sounded wrong. "i mean, can you still have dreams even when you're dreaming?"

"oh, y/n. what else are memories if not dreams themselves?" ao'nung replies, not making as much sense as the question she asked.

"what–" "alright then, more soon!" ao'nung cuts her off before running off to eywa knows where.

y/n was left once again with her thoughts. she turns back to the net she was holding, only for it to be gone. this confused her and when she turned back to where the shore was, the next thing she knew, she was sitting on a giant rock.

"do you blame yourself?" the same distorted voice that called out her name earlier asked. distress filled her veins as she looked to where she heard the voice.

y/n's eyebrows furrowed. "what?" she asked. she saw herself, an exact copy of herself wearing human clothes that norm and max wear with a pen and paper held in her hands.

"well, it's quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a kind of guilt." her copy said, voice distorting more and more.

y/n's mind was in turmoil. "what situation?" she asked. the same dread she was feeling came into full force. her chest became heavy as it caused her to not breathe well.

her copy had this concerned look but the smallest of a smirk appeared on her lips, the following words leaving the copy's mouth. "the accident."

that's when y/n was transported back to the day neteyam had died.

she was there when he was shot through the chest. she knew the bullet was meant for her but he pushed her away and in turn, the faith of death fell upon him.

while the rest of her family had cried, she didn't. instead, she felt numb and angry. no other emotions filled her body except these two. it had helped her kill some sky people and some avatars when she came back to save kiri with her parents but after that, all y/n felt was numbness.

the heavy routine she placed upon herself became the only thing that made her feel something through the numbness she felt. it wasn't enough but at least it was something.

the same distorted voice came back. "it's very common for people to invent blame or create a causality" then the voice became normal in an abrupt manner, and her surroundings turned to norm's lab where he used his avatar and where they were able to breathe normally. "when in reality, it was completely out of your control." norm's voice was soft as he talked to the young na'vi in front of him, who in turn was staring off through the distance.

the forest where she and neteyam grew up, only for her brother to never come back home.

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idesofrevolution · 1 month

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The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

#original #hypnosis #mind control #himbo #bisexual #transformation #male hypnosis #male transformation #stoner #cannabis #musk #footplay #switch #male reprogramming

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ur-fav-inactive-writer · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 ____'𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞...

(A/N: Does not include Five)

𝑵𝒐. 1 , 𝑳𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 , 𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒚

girl next door trope

knew you ever since childhood

loves you to death

so soft with you

he's such a gentlemen

pulls out chairs for you and holds doors for you

butttttt you have to deal with his daddy issues

he always comes to you crying whenever something happens

a sweetheart with you though

he's very awkward at comforting you

he likes to cook for you

he's such a good chef ngl

he loves cuddling

he literally is always cuddling you

likes to be big spoon, don't get me wrong he needs comfort

but

the idea of being able to protect you by being big spoon is so validating to him

he's too big to be little spoon anyway

that is literally his one purpose

if he found you during the 60s or something and he had to leave you he'd never stop talking about you

"I miss (Y/N)..."

"(Y/N) would've liked this.."

"Luther, they're gone."

fml sobbing why did I write that

anyway his one purpose is to love and protect you

𝑵𝒐. 2 , 𝑫𝒊𝒆𝒈𝒐 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒓𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏

very jealous

if he sees you with some guy who is flirting with you he will literally glare daggers into him

he will then proceed to walk over to you, sling an arm around your waist and pull you in for a kiss

he doesn't give a shit if anyone's watching

he talks shit about him siblings to you

"Luther thinks he's so much better than all of us-"

"Diego chill out."

oh my god when Viktor wrote that book

was

SEETHING

(no hate to viktor , viktor is baby)

the shit talk increased so much

he would not shut up about it

help diego would be such a simp for you

like I'm not joking

pure simp

in his eyes you are sweet innocent summer child who can do absolutely no wrong

stabbed someone?

pfft it was probably just an accident

he brings you to visit grace

omg it would be so cute

grace absolutely adores you

she always makes sly comments about how you and diego should get married

he goes redder than the colour red

he wouldn't tell anyone but he secretly loves the idea

he loves kissing your forehead

it's literally his favourite place

you and klaus are besties

he has to deal with you when klaus gets you drunk

"oh. my. god. im upside down."

"(Y/N), you're standing upright. we need to go home.

"... no"

he never gets drunk

fun squasher

he says his body's a temple

boring

youre his nurse

he always comes home injured and gets you to patch him up

he finds it hot

yes, he's bleeding out. yes, he finds you playing nurse to him hot.

priorities ig

he's so soft with you

would kill for you

he probably has

𝑵𝒐. 3 , 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒓

(refuse to make her evil so s3 allison will not be mentioned)

definitely gets you an acting job in one of her films

she buys you the fanciest stuff

literally you two have the best closet

and you have your own personal stylist

bc why not

you do interviews with her all the time

fans absolutely adore you

there's so many paparazzi pictures of you two together and they eat it up

especially if they include you being doting to claire even though she's not biologically your kid

omg her fans would absolutely love that

so would allison though

if she saw you reading claire a story or smth

her heart would just melt

she might cry ngl

her two favourite ppl in the world just being adorable

you're the cool parent to claire

both of you go to fancy parties and are the hottest couple

"Allison! (Y/N)! How does it feel knowing you're America's favourite couple!"

you're so flattered

allisons just like: yeah ik lmao

she kisses you a lot in public

she knows damn well people are gonna get pictures of it but she loves it

you watch her films with her a lot

if its a particularly old one, you make fun of it with her

"oh my god allison. why do you look like that."

"IT WAS THE STYLE."

she then proceeds to also make fun of it

you, her and claire go on lots of fancy days out

you may as well considering you're RICH

luther gets a bit jealous sometimes

you help her with her therapy

you comforted her when she custody of claire

you also fought alongside her to get her back

as soon as you do you're happier than ever

you are literally just the cutest family ahdhahfhaj

but then she loses you again when she goes to the 60's

she made it her life's purpose to get back to 2019 with the love of her life and claire

as soon as she accepts that it could take years upon years to reunite with you and claire she finds ray

she knew you'd be happy

but she also knew

she'd never truly move on

omg help I'm gonna start sobbing why do I do this to myself

𝑵𝒐. 4 , 𝑲𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒔 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆́𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

you help get him off of drugs

ben adores you

he likes that you're there to help klaus

and that you don't ever drop to his level and just do drugs with him

he also likes how you never shit talk him when klaus starts ranting about how annoying he is

klaus is a huge fan of PDA

he is obsessed with the idea of holding your hands

he is constantly touching you in one way or the other

whether it be holding your hand

or simply having a hand on your leg

it matters to him

and that's why you love it

sweet baby boi has so much love to give

he likes being little spoon

he just loves being in your arms

it helps with his nightmares

diego also approves of you

you've saved him from having to go out and look for klaus in the middle of the night in fear he's high or smth

klaus rants to you every so often

quite often you have to help him through panic attacks

he loves you sm

like he is so lovesick

if anyone were to ever ask about you

oh boy

he gets this lovesick look in his eyes

and then starts rambling about how enamored he is with you and how great you are

it's adorable

he's very clingy but in the best way possible

he matches outfits with you

never a dull moment with you two

often it's you trying to solve whatever problem klaus has somehow managed to conjure up

and klaus just being a devious little shit

but it doesn't matter cause you love him

sometimes he questions why you love him

it makes you cry whenever he asks

"(Y/N/N)..."

you hum in response

"why do you love me...?"

sobbing and you start listing all the reasons

and then he's sobbing

and then you're both sobbing

but anyway

he loves dancing with you

he doesn't care what song

it could be some crappy pop song that's somehow in the top hits

or some classical music that's centuries old

he really doesn't care

he likes spinning you around

he loves seeing how happy it makes you

klaus asks you the most random stuff at 3am

"... (Y/N"

"yeah"

"lawyers hope you get sued, doctors hope you get sick, cops hope you're criminal, mechanics hope you have car trouble, but only a thief wishes prosperity for you."

"... go to bed"

"never"

you poor thing

you never get any sleep because of how chatty he is at night

he hates being away from you

if he isn't near you he will start whining to ben

𝑵𝒐. 6 , 𝑩𝒆𝒏 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓

omg it took him ages to admit his crush on you

he's been crushing on you since you were like 12

when did he admit it?

when he was 18.

he likes reading to you

he loves seeing you get all relaxed at the sound of his voice

it makes him fall even more in love with you

he likes PDA but not that much

just a simple touch is enough for him

this boy blushes so easily

you'll brush his hand and he'll turn so pink

sometimes you'll just be sitting there doing nothing of note

and he'll be staring at you in adoration

he's in absolute awe of you

thinks you're the most adorable thing ever

much like diego

thinks you can do no wrong

you're his sweet, precious girl

he knows everything about you off by heart

from your favourite colour

to your mums favourite song

you thinks it's endearing

he loves holding your hand

playing with your hair is one of his favourite things to do

don't get me wrong he likes when you do it to him

but he much prefers when he does it to you

he finds it really relaxing

he's usually pretty closed off about his childhood but he trusts you

sometimes when something that triggers a bad memory happens he goes to you to rant

he doesn't know what he'd do without you

you're literally his life

omg

when you kiss his nose

he just melts

it's the most adorable thing

he's so good at cheering you up

no matter if its something minor or major

he's always amazing at getting you back to your usual self

he loves taking you on cute little dates

he reads you poetry he wrote

omg he deffo writes a piece of poetry about how much he loves you

omg help this is so cute

overall he's a simp

and it suits him

𝑵𝒐. 7 , 𝑽𝒊𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒓 , 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑽𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒏

viktors a sweetheart

he gives you private violin shows

he also rehearses in front of you to see what you think

he tries to get you to critique him

if you don't play violin, you probably just say its all perfect

if you do, you probably give him little tips on areas to work on

you go on little dates to watch the sunset

he has to be little spoon

he just needs some comfort

just needs to be wrapped in your arms and feel safe

poor guy has been through so much

sometimes he gets mad memories of the incident with allison and you have to calm him down

he wouldn't get jealous

he'd just get rlly insecure :(

if he saw someone flirting with you he'd just get a bit sad

he would think the worst and think that you would want to leave him for them :(((

poor bby

opens up to you about how bad his childhood was

sometimes he regrets writing the book

you have to reassure him that it's okay and they don't hate him for it

sure, they did, but not anymore

klaus thinks you two are adorable together

you've got quite a few polaroids of the two of you together

he has them on those little string lights above your bed

he keeps at least one in his pocket at all times

he does that thing where you check if you still have something valuable and it's so cute for some reason

and when he checks and its still there it puts this small little smile on his face

omg it's just shfjsjfjsjf

you take care of him when he's sick

he hates it bc he feels bad that you have to take care of him

but deep down he loves it and will treasure those memories forever

but he'd do the exact same thing if you were sick

whenever you buy him something he always feels bad if he didn't get you something

"Vik it's okay! you didn't have to get me anything,"

"NO ITS NOT I NEED TO GO GET YOU SOMETHING RIGHT NOW."

it's absolutely adorable

Taglist: @book-place

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malum-forev · 11 months

Text

Co-Parenting

Summary: Co-Parenting is always tough, especially with the man you thought you'd be spending the rest of your life with. Now add a super soldier.

Pairing: ExHusband!TFATWS!Bucky x Reader

Her foot impatiently tapped on the floor as she sat straight as an arrow on her couch, had she done everything already? Dusted the tables, done, washed the clothes, done, organized the fridge, done twice. (Y/n) looked down at her watch and huffed.

“They should be here any minute now.” She said to herself while smoothing down her skirt.

(Y/n) had gone to enough therapy and read way too many self-help books after her divorce to not know that this was just her brains way of controlling the situation. The only thing wrong with her defense mechanism was that there’s no way of controlling co-parenting with the man you thought you’d be spending the rest of your life with.

Bucky had met (Y/n) through Sam’s sister, Sarah had insisted on setting him up with a friend once she heard Sam say he was ready to start dating.

“I never said I wanted to be set up on a blind date.” Bucky groaned through the phone, the three-way call was obviously not his idea but he was too afraid of Sarah to not answer.

“What did you expect us to do? Set up your Tinder profile?” Sam’s laugh resonated through the tiny speaker.

“I’ve heard of people having successful relationships from the Tinder.” Bucky said. “And the internet thing will help me take it slow.”

“You are so not ready for Tinder.” Sarah said.

And she was right because the moment Bucky saw you sitting at the bar of the restaurant, he knew. Before he met you, Bucky said he didn’t believe in love at first sight because that meant you were only judging a person by their physical appearance but when he saw you, he knew it was real. The emotions he felt were much more than because you looked beautiful, it was like a gravitational pull. You were a magnet.

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” Sam wiped a fake tear as he pitched his voice up. It was a year later and Bucky was practicing his proposal with the only person who knew about it. Sarah could not be trusted with a secret this classified.

Bucky stood up from his knelt position with a groan. “You think she’ll like it?”

“I’m not completely sure why she likes you but you’ve been clearly doing something right.” Sam patted his friend on the back. “Just do what you do best and she’ll say yes.”

“I don’t think she can tell the engagement story if I propose when I’m doing what I do best.” Bucky said with a smirk.

“And that’s my cue to leave.”

Everything was going well, two years into the marriage was when Peanut came in. A beautiful baby girl that had Bucky wrapped around her tiny finger. Peanut was like a little tornado that went through the Barnes’ household, some days were easy and other days- well that’s where the problems came in.

Sam first noticed it at Peanut’s third birthday party. He saw (Y/n) rush in and out of the house, decorations were still being put up and the serving platters with the appetizers were running low.

“Shouldn’t Dad be helping Mom out?” Sam asked approaching Bucky on the dock of the house they’d bought.

The small ripples and the tranquil sound of the lake had eased Bucky’s nerves just to be altered again by Sam’s words.

“I’m only in charge of holding up the pinata.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Direct orders from the missus.”

“(Y/n) looks like she’s about to have a mental breakdown over cupcakes, I think you should go over there and ask if she needs any he-“

“Well I think you should mind your own business Sam.” Bucky said flatly.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up at his friend’s words and Bucky cursed at himself.

“I’m sorry it’s just-“ He tried to backtrack but it was too late. Sam got the message and he held his hands up.

“You’re right, it’s your marriage.” Sam said sternly.

Only a year after that, (Y/n) and Bucky settled the divorce. It hadn’t come as a shock to her, and honestly she’d been thinking about it for some time before he mentioned the D word (and not the one she wanted to hear). They settled out of court and that was that. (Y/n) kept the house and the cat, and he got a pretty flexible schedule for his time with Peanut.

That was that, six years of being together was supposed to be erased with one single signature. Bucky had stopped trying and (Y/n) had stopped waiting for him to do something.

So now, at least two times a month, she was here. Waiting for the minutes to pass until it was 5pm.

Alpine started purring once she heard the muffled voices coming from the other side of the door.

“Of course momma’s gonna be home, silly goose.” Peanut’s small voice said before the doorbell rang.

(Y/n) rushed to the door, waited a couple of seconds and took three deep breaths before she opened, not wanting to look like she’d been waiting by the door for an hour.

Will I ever stop getting butterflies when I see him? She wondered.

But she already knew the answer, no. Bucky had aged like fine wine, sure he had a couple of grey hairs here and there but he still looked amazingly handsome. And seeing him picking their daughter up so she could reach the doorbell- an activity Peanut thought was incredible and groundbreaking- sent her hormones into overdrive.

“Momma!” Peanut yelled, wrapping her tiny arms over (Y/n)’s shoulders as she knelt down.

“Hi P! How was your weekend?” (Y/n) asked her, taking in the strawberry scent her shampoo had at her dad’s house.

“It was amazing! Uncle Sam was there and he showed me all the new planes they have, I got to watch a movie where Daddy said they copied his fighting style.” She beamed. “I also got to practice fight with some of Daddy’s friends and they said I do it just like Daddy!”

Peanut rushed into the house and quickly climbed up the stairs. “Oh! I also got to swing with Spiderman!”

(Y/n) widened her eyes at Bucky, she was about to tell him off for letting their four-year-old daughter swing with a teenager but Peanut’s voice rang through the house.

“Daddy! You need to come up and see my new bed!” She yelled from her room.

“Saved by the bell.” Bucky winked and he too climbed up the stairs of the house they had shared.

Bucky came down the stairs ten minutes later, heading towards the kitchen.

“You’ve done some remodeling.” He said resting his hands on the counter. (Y/n) only hummed in response.

“Do you need any money? Are you wanting to remodel more parts of the house?” He asked quietly. Although they were no longer together, Bucky had promised to take care of the woman who gave him the most priceless thing in the world, his daughter.

(Y/n) shook her head. “I’m okay.”

Bucky nodded slowly, taking in the uncomfortable feeling his old house gave him. He’d bought it with the intentions of remodeling it, to give (Y/n) the house she’d always dreamed of. Bucky had started it, he fixed up the whole basement and the master bedroom but somewhere in the middle of it all he lost inspiration. He lost himself.

“Are you going to tell me why you thought Peter was qualified to swing our daughter around the city?” (Y/n) raised her eyebrows.

Bucky chuckled. “Swing is an overstatement and they were in the training room, not the city. I was there, supervising every move.”

“I’m glad she got to spend some time with you, P misses you when you’re on missions.” (Y/n) offered Bucky a small smile, the kind of smile he knew (Y/n) reserved for people who didn’t deserve her. The smile meant he had broken his family in two over something he cannot remember now.

“I miss her too.” Bucky’s voice cracked. “I miss you both.”

(Y/n) rubbed her tired eyes, wanting to unhear Bucky’s words. “You should go home, James.”

“I am home.” Bucky’s voice just above a whisper.

(Y/n) shook her head. “This isn’t your home, not anymore.”

Her harsh words drove the knife deeper into his heart.

“We can try-“ He started but was interrupted.

“You have no right to come into my house after all you’ve done and say that we can try. I tried, for months. I switched up date night, I got a sitter, I asked what you wanted me to become-“ (Y/n) let out a dry laugh. “I started to think of ways I could change myself to be someone you wanted. But the problem is that you don’t know what you want James.”

“So don’t tell me we can try. Because I played the part, the person who wanted this relationship to work only for you to burn my efforts to the ground.” (Y/n)’s voice waivered. “So now the only thing that’s left to do is for you to leave.”

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked back the tears.

“I almost forgot,” (Y/n) sighed, opening one of the kitchen drawers and pulling out one of Bucky’s action figures Peanut had said she “needed to survive”, even though her father is the one who the plastic is modeled after. “P wanted you to take this so that when it’s career day at school she can tell her classmates what you do. Something about how the figurine has more value if it’s been on a mission.”

“When’s Career Day? Maybe I can-“ He tried again.

“You’ll be somewhere in Europe.” (Y/n) shook her head.

Bucky looked down at the action figure, a model of what he was supposed to be. A protector.

“I’ll see myself out.” He croaked.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Hi hiii I know this is short but I just couldn't get Ex Husband Bucky out of my head. Hope you guys like it! <;3

As always pls like, reblog and comment if you do! <3

And don’t forget to ask a prompt for my 1k bingo game! 💖

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 25: Christmas Day Traditions & Activities

Tags: Pre-Relationship Steddie, Christmas Morning, Christmas Fluff, Supportive Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Is A Sweetheart,

wc: 1488 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

It’s not that Steve likes to be alone on Christmas.

He doesn’t think anyone likes to be alone on Christmas — let alone someone who aspires to be a father to six little nuggets one day.

But he has a hard time taking his friends up on their offers to host him for Christmas. Doesn’t want to feel like a burden or impose on anyone’s traditions.

He’s tried in the past — joining the Hendersons in ’84 and Robin basically held him hostage in ’85, refusing to let him wallow alone in his house like some Grinch (her words not his).

No matter how accommodating the Hendersons and Buckleys were or how many times Dustin and Robin assured him that he wasn’t imposing, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong. The cold weight in his gut and the nagging voice in his head telling him if his parents didn’t want him why would anyone else?

(He should probably go to therapy to get that checked out.)

It’s fine though, because Steve’s curated his own Christmas traditions now.

He wakes up whenever he wants to — usually still early because his body has never adjusted to the fact that it no longer needs to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to train — and makes himself an omelet or two. Then he moves into the living room and opens the gift Robin always leaves behind for him because she refuses to let him open something on Christmas.

After making his “Merry Christmas” calls and assuring Robin and Dustin that he’s fine and no, he doesn’t want to come over, he heats up the homemade casserole Ms. Henderson makes Dustin deliver by bike on the 23rd and settles down on the couch to watch this year’s Christmas Day basketball games.

It’s not much, but it works for Steve.

At least, it did until this year when Eddie threw a literal wrench in his plans by coaxing him into coming over because his car wouldn’t start and he had to pick Wayne up from a last-minute shift at the factory.

Honestly, Steve should have known it was a trap the minute he mentioned Wayne working a Christmas morning shift. Wayne and him aren’t close by any means, but he knows there’s no way Eddie’s Uncle would work on Christmas day and leave him home alone. He actually has good parenting habits, unlike some people in his life.

Still, the phone call came at six in the morning and Steve was too dizzy with sleep to question his motives until he pulled up at the Munsons to find both cars parked in their usual spots.

He doesn’t even have time to make a quick escape because Eddie’s perched on the worn sofa outside watching him.

“Took you long enough,” Eddie teases, sauntering over to Steve.

“From the looks of it you didn’t even need my help,” Steve sasses back as he gets out of the car. “Isn’t that Wayne’s car?”

Eddie glances in the direction Steve points as if he isn’t aware of the pickup truck. “Huh, guess it is. Must have been a dream I was having or something.”

“Or, something. Right,” Steve snorts, shaking his head.

“Well,” Eddie claps his hands together startling Steve. “Since we don’t actually need your help and you’re already here, you should stay for breakfast.”

“That’s okay, Eddie. I don’t—“

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie tuts. “You’re not bailing on me now, Stevie. Wayne’s in there whipping up his famous Christmas morning breakfast. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried his French toast casserole.”

Arguing with Eddie is worse than arguing with Dustin, so Steve saves his energy and agrees to stay for breakfast. He apologizes profusely to Wayne for the intrusion, earning a gruff “nonsense boy, you’re always welcome here,” several times before Wayne finally swats him with the spatula and insists he shut up or else.

The casserole is as delicious as Eddie made it out to be. Not that Steve was skeptical of Wayne’s ability to cook. He’s been over for chili nights and eaten Wayne’s perfectly cooked and fresh fish after the fishing trip Eddie also tricked Steve into attending.

With a full belly and Eddie’s demand met, he’s planning on heading out when he spots the mountain of dishes in the small sink. His parents may not have raised him to be kind and thoughtful, but it's the man he’s become so he hikes up the sleeves on his maroon sweater and gets to work cleaning the dishes even though both Wayne and Eddie shout at him that there’s “no chores on Christmas.” When they both offer to help, Steve throws “no chores on Christmas” back in their faces and shoos them out of the kitchen with a smile and lots of gruff laughter.

He’s almost finished with the washing when the snow starts to fall. Not cute little snowflakes like in the movies. Oh no. Big ass sheets of snow dropping faster and faster as the seconds tick by.

Christ.

“Snowin’ mighty bad out there,” Wayne whistles, coming inside from the smoke break he insisted on taking outside. Kicking off his boots, he walks over to Steve and claps a hand on his shoulder. “‘Fraid you ain’t going anywhere.”

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” Steve says, throwing the dish towel over his other shoulder as he peers out the window. Who is he kidding? There’s no way the beemer is going to make it three feet in this weather let alone the two and a half miles to his house.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Steve!” Eddie shouts, from his spot on the couch. “If I let you leave in this weather and something happens, Henderson and Buckley will literally have my head on a stake. You’re staying and that’s final.”

He turns, expecting to find Wayne ready to object to Eddie’s theatrics but what he finds instead is the gruff man nodding his head in agreement.

“Guess m’staying then.”

Steve’s no stranger to surprises, but he’s downright perplexed when Wayne announces that it’s time to watch the Knicks game and Eddie doesn’t balk or go on some long-winded rant about how sports and Christmas don’t go together. Instead, he watches as Eddie nods and curls up on the sofa while Wayne settles in on the recliner.

“Hold on,” Steve says, waving his hands in the air to get their attention. “You, Eddie Munson, are going to watch basketball without complaining?”

“S’our Christmas tradition,” Wayne says.

“Unfortunately,” Eddie mumbles which earns him a pillow to the face curtesy of Wayne. “Hey!”

Wayne chuckles, shaking his head before shifting his attention back to Steve. “First Christmas I had Eddie, the boy was so upset after openin’ his gifts ‘cause he didn’t have nothin’ for me. Told him not to worry, just wanted him to watch the game with me. S’been a tradition ever since.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something when Eddie chimes in cutting him off.

“If you’re going to call me a hypocrite, save it.” “I wasn’t going to,” Steve says, holding his hands up in surrender. Crossing the room, he takes a seat on the sofa with Eddie, leaving the middle cushion open. “Actually, I was going to say watching the game is my Christmas tradition too.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Maybe it could be our tradition now. Wayne, me, you. I mean, I might not know what the hell is going on, but Wayne knows lots of fun stats he loves to share.” “Watch yourself, boy,” Wayne scolds with no bite. “S’you who never shuts up during the game. Always narrating made-up things while they play.”

“You know you love it!” Eddie defends, flipping Wayne off. After he turns his attention back to Steve, “M’sure watching with us will be better than watching alone, right?”

It’s presumptuous is what it is.

The thought of Steve coming over to the Munsons year after year to watch the basketball game. Cheer on teams and criticize plays with Wayne, listen to Eddie’s improv commentary. As if they want him crashing their traditions forever.

But something about the offer warms the usual Christmas day ache in his gut.

The truth is Steve doesn’t feel like a burden when he’s here with Wayne and Steve. He doesn’t feel like an awkward third wheel or like he’s a fly on the wall, listening to inside jokes and not understanding them.

He feels like an equal.

Like he belongs.

And what a wonderful feeling that is.

Maybe he won’t always spend Christmas with Wayne and Eddie and whatever NBA teams are playing, but today he will.

And he’s not going to deny himself this tradition next year or the year after that or any year Eddie and Wayne are eager to host him.

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve says pulling himself from his reprieve. “This is much better than watching the game alone.”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie christmas #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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crowborn666-writes · 1 year

Text

Care

(Depressions kicking my ass so I’m back again with therapy Dadzawa. Dunno why it took me so long to realize there’s MHA Wikis, but they’re a lifesaver.)

Shota Aizawa x Teen!Reader

Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Platonic

Summary: The hole just seems to get deeper and deeper, but your new teacher seems determined to pull you back out.

CW/TW: mentions of bad past, reader feeling guilty about eating, mentions/descriptions of anxiety, Mineta (he doesn’t do anything, he just exists 🙄)

Other info: reader has a established quirk(one I see myself having tbh, I call it Shadow Morph), possibly poorly written sparring scenes

~~~~~~

“You haven’t eaten.”

“Not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since we brought you here.” He pressed, voice and actions gentle as he scooted the plate a few inches closer to you. A part of him wanted to cross his arms, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well with you, so he kept them loose and resting across his knees.

“…Not hungry.” You spoke again, albeit a bit more hesitant this time, your eyes flitting across the light meal that was set in front of you.

Shota could only let out a worried, exasperated sigh. The police were good at their job sure, but with you they had their suspicions pointed in the completely wrong direction.

Simply, you’d been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Where you were trying to avoid the villains in the area, the ones who were on the scene thought you were with them.

It took Shota a long time to get them off your back, even longer to convince them to let you go with him.

You had recently graduated middle school, and in one of your less pressuring conversations with him, had told him how you applied to a hero school and was denied. How your parents weren’t exactly the best. How you felt you didn’t fit in with anyone, and the few friends you did have left you once school was done.

Basically, you were stuck on where to go, practically in a pit made of loneliness and unknown directions.

He thought back to those conversations, wondering just how deep this hole you’re in went. Clearly, it was worrying, if you were seeming guilty about eating.

“…You said you wanted to be a hero?” He piped up quietly, watching your fingers begin to inch towards the plate.

He didn’t press further on the subject of food, knowing even a few millimeters of movement towards it was still progress.

“Yeah… even if it’s a support or underground hero. Wanna help people.” You mumbled, tentatively picking up one of the banana slices and taking a small nibble.

The small bit of relief took some of the tension out of Shota’s aching shoulders.

“What would you say to joining one of my students’ classes? You can show off your abilities there.”

“Don’t you have an extra student to train already though…?”

“I do,” Shota’s smile at seeing you finally eat a bit more stayed hidden behind his scarf, but it definitely met his eyes, “but his progress is going smoothly enough to where I don’t have to always watch him during his training, and if your abilities are good enough you can train with each other and grow even more.”

You nodded quietly, eyeing the buttered toast that had been made for you with a bit of hesitance, wondering if you’d be able to stomach it.

Shota then stood from the table, movements careful as to not startle you.

“Eat what you can, I won’t push any more today. In the meantime I’ll fix up the couch for you.”

“Thank you.” Your quiet call following out of the kitchen, your fingers picking up the slice of toast you’d been eyeing.

Your night was fitful, to say the least. The unfamiliar environment and uncomfortable couch made it hard to fall asleep and stay asleep. You sworn in your half-asleep haze at least two times Shota had wandered over to glance over the back of the couch to check on you, one time even adjusting your blanket that had gotten tangled in your tossing and turning.

Somehow, though, you’d managed to fall asleep for more than twenty minutes. You awoke later to the sound of Shota in the kitchen, the sound of a coffee maker reaching your ears. Rolling over, you glared at the clock on the coffee table, reading 6:20 in the morning.

Figuring trying to fall back asleep would be fruitless, you sat up, rubbing at your tired eyes as you stood to wander into the kitchen.

“Morning.” Shota spoke as he turned to you, placing a granola bar on the counter for you before he turned to grab a mug from the cabinet.

“Good mornin’.” You yawned, not thinking twice as you grabbed the granola bar off the counter. Next thing you knew, Shota had a glass of water next to you, turning to pour his cup of coffee.

Your anxiety had crawled up to your neck as you and Shota walked towards a building called Gym Gamma. Shota explained that students often trained there with Ectoplasm and Cementoss, since the Pro Heroes could create concrete structures and fake Ectoplasm’s for them to practice against.

You were dreading the possibility of a grand entrance as Shota opened the gym doors. You trailed behind him, and despite him not making any sort of announcement to get his students’ attention, all eyes naturally fell to him.

Oh god, were you pale? Were you sweating bullets or is it just hot in the gym? You had to be sweating bullets and pale as a sheet. Your entire body was tense and—

“Alright class, I need your attention for a few.”

You already have their attention!

You watched with trembling hands and a gaze that soon locked onto a very specific pebble that had been dragged in as the class of about twenty students all gathered around, their attention wavering between their teacher and you.

“This is (Y/n). They’re going to join today’s class to show off their abilities, to see if they’re good enough to join the hero course.”

A rough voice called out, your gaze flickering up to spot a blond with a rather annoyed look on his face. “Does this school really have time for this stranger?”

Before your thoughts could drag you further into your metaphorical pit, Shota spoke up almost instantly.

“As heroes we should not only save people from disasters, but we should try to help them in low points of their lives. If they aren’t cut for the hero course, we will find something else for them to strive to achieve.”

No one else heard it, but from your right you could’ve sworn you heard Ectoplasm mumble something about Aizawa being a softie.

One by one, you were introduced to the class, all except for a very short, purple haired boy. But you didn’t say anything, figuring there was a reason given Sero immediately slapped some tape over his mouth just as he opened it.

One student rose her hand, Tsuyu, if you recalled correctly. “May I ask about your quirk?”

“Oh good call, Tsu!” Denki piped up, “I wanna know too!”

From Shota’s gentle prompting, along with the kind gazes of Izuku, Ochako and a few others, you began to explain your quirk to them.

Without your quirk, you’d be too slow, too weak to be much of use. But with how you’ve developed your quirk, you were able to push and pull yourself and others to your advantage.

You could create shadowy tendrils from your back or limbs, able to pull and push yourself as needed, able to wrap others up to restrain or throw them. With enough focus and energy, you could even slip through shadows, adding to your dexterity.

Your voice would waver, going in and out with volume, your mind hissing with all the words people told you about your quirk.

Not very heroic.

Scary or worrisome.

Too dark.

You didn’t say those thoughts out loud, of course, but they were instantly swept away when Izuku started rambling.

“That’s so cool! Are you able to morph your entire body into shadow or just parts of it? Can you move only through shadow that way or can you move anywhere? Is it like Tokoyami’s quirk where light—“

“Midoriya.” Shota cut him off, the green-haired boy giving a sheepish smile as a few others sighed in unison.

“Sorry, Mr. Aizawa.”

You figured this was a daily occurrence.

It wasn’t long after that the training resumed, the students easily falling back into their routine. Shota had you go up against one of Ectoplasm’s copies, just for you to warm up and get used to using your quirk in a fighting style rather than an aid like at home.

You were too focused on blocking or dodging attacks to really notice a few students glancing your way, not even Shota’s, who no doubt had his gaze moreso on you than anyone else.

After your warmup, you turned as Shota called out. “Asui. I’d like you to pair up with (Y/n).”

Nervousness rising, you watched as Tsuyu hopped down from the cement towers, right down next to you.

“(Y/n), Asui’s here is fairly quick with her movements, I want you to try your hand at capture. Asui, I want you to do your best at dodging and blocking (Y/n)’s attacks.”

“Got it, Mr. Aizawa!” She replied, turning to you with a smile and a soft ribbit, “Good luck to you!”

“G-Good luck to you too!” You stammered, getting into stance as she hopped a distance away from you.

“Go.”

Shota wasn’t lying when he said Tsuyu was fast, it was like she was made of water almost, or as slippery as a frog. Just when you thought you had her in a grip, she found some way to wriggle out of it or dodge at the last minute.

You had a thought then, wondering if you could fake her out somehow. You sent your shadows towards her, like you had been doing, and right before she jumped you opened them like a cage that surrounded her from all sides.

You knew she could probably slip through, but this was your best bet right now.

She aimed to jump upwards, between two shadows above her head, and thinking fast you clamped down like a venus fly trap.

A startled “ribbit!” left her as you held her upside down, arms trapped to her sides.

After your surprisingly successful capture of Tsuyu, Shota had you up against Sero next.

“You said you were able to push and pull yourself, right?” He called up to you, looking a bit small from atop the cement tower you were on. “I want you to do just that, and either evade or fight back against Sero, who’s job for this mock fight is to capture you.”

You glanced around, finding yourselves on the higher cement towers, everyone else either still training or watching from below.

At Shota’s call, Sero immediately dove into action, shooting tape to try and ensnare you. You were quick to jump away, backing out of his reach, your shadows helping you cling to your surroundings.

Now it was your turn to be quick on your feet, thoughts running a mile a minute as you had to both evade Sero and keep track of where you were going.

Suddenly he was in front of you, and in two quick tugs, your shadows pulled you behind him. He recovered faster than you expected him to, finding yourself suddenly wrapped up in tape and dangling.

“Not bad.” Shota spoke, watching as Sero carefully lowered you to the ground. “Even though Sero has a lot of practice in capture, you evaded him longer than I expected.”

You took the praise with red cheeks, a little embarrassed by it all.

A few other students wanted to train with you after that, especially Midoriya, but unfortunately you needed to rest, and so spent the rest of the class period watching them all.

“You did good today.” Shota spoke up as you walked back to your temporary housing with him.

“You mean it…?”

“I mean it.” He glanced back at you and caught your gaze for a short moment, just long enough to emphasize his point before turning away. “A lot of my students wanted you to come back and join them in the second year. If you’re up for it, you can join the hero course with Shinsou.”

You found yourself smiling. “Guess I got a lot of training to do now, huh?”

Shota was smiling as well, even if you couldn’t see it. “That, and you got a lot of people who care about you now as well.”

#mha #bnha #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #mha shota aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #teen!reader #aizawa x teen!reader #platonic #aizawa x student reader #aizawa x gender neutral reader #gn!reader

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mynameismckenziemae · 3 months

Text

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 2

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Jake struggles to ask for your help.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI (no smut in this chapter but there will be in future ones), mentions of teen pregnancy, adult language, etc.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“Charlie, we need to talk. I need you…r help.”

“Name it,” you reply.

You meant it too. You could never repay him or his family for everything they did for you and your mom.

Starting with your mom. You had been conceived on prom night, shortly after Lisa turned 18. Your sperm donor was the town’s golden boy who denied you were his and took off for college without looking back. Her parents wanted her to ‘get rid of it’ and kicked her out when she refused.

With $700 in cash, a suitcase, and her car, she drove west with California on her mind. Life had other plans though; her car broke down in the middle of Texas. The heat mixed with lack of water and abundance of stress brought her to tears, but then Ruth pulled up with a matching pregnant belly of her own.

Ruth and Tom helped Lisa find a job, a place of her own, and made her a part of their family by the time you came along. They helped raise you too.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he sighs, rubbing his temples.

“You had to eject and then were in the hospital, right? What did the doctors say?” You prompt, sensing there’s more but allowing him to leave out what he isn’t ready to share.

“Yeah. They wanted to send me for rehab at Naval Hospital Camp Pendleton and I just…panicked and said I’d go home, not remembering that Ma and Dad are gone for another 2 weeks. I was fine with asking if you’d help me out with the physical therapy but this-“

“Will you stay with me and let me help you? There, I asked so you don’t have to,” you smile.

“That’d be great,” he laughs, squeezing your knee.

“Did you call your parents? Do they know?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’ll know they’ll turn right around if I did and you know how special this is for them.”

You nod. They were on a road trip, spreading some of Lisa’s ashes in the favorite places she and Ruth traveled to.

“Your mom is gonna tan your hide…and probably mine when she finds out you,” you sigh. “Did the doctor send your records? Orders? A plan of care?

“Yeah, in my bag,” he winces as he tries to sit up.

“I’ll get ‘em. What hurts? Leg? Shoulders?”

“Everything,” he sighs.

“Why don’t I get you in the tub and you can soak while I look at your records?”

“That sounds good.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

After feeding him and another round of NSAIDs, you hand him the crutches.

“The crutches are set too low,” you observe out loud.

“That doesn’t surprise me. I pretty much took them and ran.”

You shake your head.

“You’re a terrible patient,” you say as you guide him to sit at the edge of the tub.

“I know.”

“You better not pull that shit with me,” you tease as you kneel and begin to wrap the cast with plastic wrap.

“I won’t, I’ll be good for you.”

You gulp, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush rising to your cheeks.

“How’d you manage to get all the way here on a bum leg?”

“Rooster. He picked me up from the hospital, helped me pack, and then brought me to the airport. He sweet-talked TSA and they let him bring me all the way to the gate,” he laughs. “It got a little tricky when I landed but an older guy saw me struggling and brought my suitcase to the Uber. The driver took it out of the trunk when he dropped me off and was going to bring it to your porch but I insisted I was good. As you could see, I was not good.”

“No, you were not,” you agree, rising to help him stand and step into the tub. “Okay, now shirt off.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies, pulling off his shirt and tossing it past you.

You can’t help but gasp at the deep bruising on each shoulder. “Oh, Jake.”

“It’s okay. So how…?” He trails off wondering how much of him you’re going to have to see.

“I’ll help you down if you can slip your shorts and underwear off like that?”

“Yeah, that should work.”

It’s a process but you do it and close the curtain to give him privacy and he drops his shorts out of the side.

“All set,” he says.

“Not a fan of underwear?” You tease.

“One less layer to try and pull on,” he replies.

You toss a washcloth over so he can cover up while you place a bath stool in next.

“It’s gonna be cold,” you warn once his leg is propped, turning the water on.

He hisses when the water touches him, but it warms quickly.

“A bath bomb? Really?” He asks as you drop one in.

“Yes, an Epsom salt bath bomb. Should help with the soreness.”

“Mmkay. Smells nice,” he sighs.

You leave to find the paperwork and turn the water off when you come back, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

“It looks like they want daily PT, a follow-up with orthopedics this week and…for you to see a counselor,” you say, reading the notes.

“Yeah, they think I have PTSD,” he says quietly behind the curtain.

“Okay well I can see if my counselor can take you on, she does virtual care. I will obviously take care of the PT, and I’ll ask Dr. Hayes if he’ll fit you in,” you say.

“I’m sure he’ll fit me in if you fit him in,” he mutters.

He almost sounds jealous.

“I’ve never ‘fit him in’. It was one date. He’s a great guy, it just…wasn’t right.”

He wasn’t right because he wasn’t Jake. Just like every other failed relationship.

“You see a counselor?” Jake asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I started after mom died, it’s helped a lot.”

“Good, yeah that’d be cool if she could see me. God this feels amazing. I don’t know the last time I took a bath.”

“Enjoy it. The hard work starts tomorrow.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

You throw a load of laundry in and start on supper while he relaxes.

“Charlie? Can you help?” He calls from the bathroom, frustration lacing his tone.

“What’s up?” You ask from the doorway.

“Every time I raise my arms to wash my hair I start sliding down,” he sighs.

“Hand me the shampoo.”

The groan he lets out when you massage it into his scalp is downright sinful and sends a shot of arousal straight between your legs.

“That good, huh?” You laugh, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush rising up your neck.

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement, and your eye catches the washcloth over his groin twitching.

“Sit up a little and I’ll get your back,” you tell him as you soap up your hands.

He obliges and his head drops forward with a heavy exhale as you wash his back.

“Feels good too,” he murmurs, sucking in a breath tensing when you get to his lower back, almost to the top of his butt.

“Sorry, does that hurt?”

“No, I’m uh…ticklish.”

“Your back is ticklish?”

“No, but my ass is,” he mutters, pink staining his cheeks.

“Interesting,” you laugh, scoffing when he gently splashes you. “I assume you can get the rest? Wouldn’t want to tickle you.”

He snatches the washcloth from your outstretched hand. “Yes. I got it.”

You laugh, closing the curtain to let him finish washing before handing him the detachable showerhead to rinse.

You manage to get him out of the shower with only one accidental view of his butt and no falls, but you’re just as wet as him now.

His eyes darken when he looks over your chest at the wet t-shirt clinging to your bra-less breasts.

“I’m uh…gonna go change. I’ll grab your clothes. Be right back!” You rush out as you close the door.

Your heart races as you pick some clothes out of his suitcase.

What is happening?

His phone is vibrating nonstop, so you bring it too.

“I’m decent,” he says when you knock.

“Here, I brought your phone too. It was buzzing like crazy.”

“Thanks, I’ll be out in a few.”

“Holler if you need me,” you say as you walk to your room, fanning yourself the whole way.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake ignores his erection as he unlocks his phone, realizing he forgot to let Bradshaw know he made it safely.

🐓: You make it okay?

🐓: Have you fallen and can’t get up?

🐓: ?

🐓: I’m about to text Charlie. Maybe I’ll ask her out too.

🐓: Dude. I’m actually starting to worry.

3 missed calls from 🐓.

Jake: Sorry man, I forgot. I’m exhausted.

Jake: Also, fuck off. Leave Charlie alone.

🐓: Glad you’re okay.

🐓: You finally gonna tell her how you feel?

Jake: I can’t. I can’t lose her if she doesn’t feel the same.

🐓: Pretty sure she does. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.

Jake: I don’t know…I just don’t know. Where would I even start?

🐓: Tell her how you called her name when you were about to die. Chicks dig sappy shit like that.

Jake: 🤦🏼‍♂️ and you wonder why you’re single.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: Got a little bit of their families histories and why they’re so close. The tension is starting to rise ☺️

Let me know whatcha think!

Tagging:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

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@mizzzpink

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun smut

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jennay · 7 months

Text

Haunted Memories

Request: The reader has been tagging along with the guys while they are on tour. She is in a relationship with Noah. They are back in their hometown and the reader is walking through the venue when she is stopped by her ex, which she had an abusive past with. She immediately gets shaken up by seeing him. Instead of hanging out on the side stage to watch the guys like she normally does, the reader heads back to the bus. Noah notices that she isn't around before and when they are on stage, so he starts to wonder where the reader is. After the show is over, he finds out from someone backstage that she had went back to the bus before the show even started. When he gets on the bus, he finds the reader distraught and extremely upset. Maybe something along those lines.

Warnings: talks of physical abuse lots of angst but ends in fluffy goodness

Word Count: 2100

Noah Master List

You couldn't believe it. Of all the places in the world, the final show of the tour had to be in your home town. Noah had warned you about this, but you didn't think it would affect you so much.

You found yourself wandering around the venue, feeling like a ghost, while Bad Omens rocked the stage. This place was haunted by your past. You had so many memories here, some that made you smile and some that made you shiver.

You remembered the day Noah left Virginia, the day your best friend ripped your heart out. You sobbed when he hugged you goodbye, but you also cheered him on.

You wanted him to follow his dreams, even if it meant leaving you behind. You wanted to go with him, but you had things to finish in Richmond, things that couldn't wait.

You sighed as you walked to the merch section, looking for comfort in the colorful shirts. Buying new shirts from all the tours was your guilty pleasure. You told Noah once that you would make a quilt out of them someday, a quilt that would keep you warm and remind you of him when you couldn't tour with the band.

"Y/n?"

You spin around and freeze. There he is, the monster who ruined your life, the one you thought was locked up for good. Your heart sinks to your stomach, and you feel sick as your memories flood. How could this happen? Why did you have to bump into him here, of all places?

Why couldn't Noah be by your side to protect you from him? Your hands tremble as you back away, wishing you could vanish.

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and your voice is gone.

He moves closer to you, a wicked grin on his face. He pretends he didn't do anything wrong, he didn't send you to the hospital with broken bones and bruises, and he didn't make you fear every man who looked at you.

"It's so nice to see you I-, I went by your parent's house last year. I wanted to apologize for, you know, things that happened in the past." He bites his lip. You can tell he's nervous, but you don't know if the regret in his voice is being faked or not, "I've changed a lot." He tells you.

You shake your head in disbelief, "Fuck you!" You roughly say. "You don't get to walk back into my life and say shit to me." You turn to walk away, feeling your adrenaline rush. Who did he think he was? Did he really think an apology would make you swoon and forgive him?

You feel a hand grab your wrist, and he pulls you back to him. You feel like you did all those years ago, "I've changed. I'm sorry for what I did. I went through therapy, and they said the best thing I could do was ask for forgiveness. It's part of the program I'm in. I'm not heavy in addiction anymore. I don't even know that person, and I'm so ashamed! Please just listen to me. Please, I'm sorry."

You feel your body tremble as you pull your wrist out of his grasp, "You knew I'd be here, didn't you?" You look down at his hand that’s reaching for you again. You quickly swat it away, "Don't fucking touch me. If my boyfriend sees you, of all people even near me, you will end up in the hospital."

He nods knowingly. "I know you're dating Noah now. I'm not here to step on your toes. I just need you to forgive me." He desperately says like this was the last thing on his list before he could move on.

You snap your head back, shocked by his words, baffled by how he could ever expect you to forgive him. “You don’t deserve a fucking thing from me.” You hissed. “I hate you. You shattered me beyond repair. You twisted me, and I could never heal from what you did. You wrecked all my chances of happiness, you ruined what I could’ve been for Noah, and you dare to ask for my forgiveness?” You snarl through gritted teeth. “You think you’re worthy of that?” You pause, feeling your jaw clench. “I hope you die with the guilt of what you did. I hope it torments you every time you touch another woman.” Your eyes fill with tears, “But most of all, I hope everyone you love abandons you.”

You see his eyes turn black, and before you can react, his hand is flying towards your face, just like old times. You shut your eyes, bracing for the pain, but relax when you hear a familiar voice, "Whoa there, buddy. What the fuck is it that you think you're doing?" You hear Steven's voice ring in your ears, and you open your eyes to see that Steven has David's arm in his hand over your head. He roughly throws it aside and quickly pushes you behind him. "I don't know who the fuck you are...but I suggest you get the fuck out of here before I cause a scene."

Steven wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he walks away from David. He looks down at you feeling your body slightly shaking still, "I'm not going to ask if you're OK because obviously, you're not, but who the fuck was that and do we need security to follow you around from now on?"

You shake your head no, your eyes landing on the ground as you walk, "He'd nobody, and I don't want to talk about it."

Steven nods understandingly, "Let me walk you back to the bus. I'll know you're safe there, and I'll let Noah know where you are, okay?"

"I don't really want Noah to know about this." You say sheepishly.

Steven bites his lip, knowing he's about to say something you won't like, "You know I can't do that."

You take a deep breath, "I know."

After the show, Steven immediately finds Noah to talk to him about what he witnessed.

Noah clenches his fists as Steven tells him what he saw. “I don’t know who the bastard was, she wouldn’t tell me. She shut me out, and I didn’t want to push her.”

He wishes he could have been there instead of Steven, but he’s grateful to him for stepping in and stopping the assault before it happened. He knows if he had been there and seen a man try to hurt you, he’d lose it. He’d end up in jail, but he wouldn’t regret it. He’d smile in his mug shot, knowing he did the right thing. Whether you were his girlfriend or not, you would always be safe with him.

Before Noah opens the bus door, he takes a deep breath. He asked the others to leave you alone for a while before they came to check on you. He wanted to make sure you were okay, or at least not falling apart.

He knew you hated showing your vulnerability in front of anyone. Even with him, you tried to act strong and hide your pain. He opens the door, scanning the bus for you. He doesn’t see you anywhere until he hears a faint whimper from the bunk area. His heart breaks at the sound of your cry.

Noah walks softly toward the noise, stopping in the middle of the hallway. He sees you lying in his bunk, staring blankly at the ceiling. He notices the tear stains on your cheeks and the redness in your eyes.

You don’t look at him as he kneels by the side. He gently reaches for your hand, making you flinch out of your daze. Noah wants to kill the man who did this to you. He wants to smash things and yell at the world. He wants to make the pain go away. You didn’t deserve this. How could anyone be so cruel to you?

"Baby," he coos while brushing your hair out of your face, "What can I do to help?"

You tilt your head finally looking him in the eyes. You wipe your burning cheeks and turn on your side, patting the spot next to you.

He nods and slides into the bunk beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggle close. He tenderly strokes your hair as you cry into his chest, letting out all the emotions that have been bottled up inside you. He holds you firmly, making you feel safe and loved in his embrace.

“I don’t want to feel this way.” You say in a shaky voice. “It’s like every time I think I’m healing, something triggers me, and I feel worthless and broken. The voice in the back of my head…” You pause, gasping for air, “It keeps telling me I’m not good enough, and I want to be good enough for you, but I’m so damaged, and I know you’ll leave me too because I don’t deserve you.”

Noah’s face twists with confusion and pain, wondering how you could ever doubt yourself so much. “Y/n…” He says softly, pulling away from you slightly, lifting your chin, and making you look into his eyes, “I will never leave you.” He kisses your nose and smiles gently, “If you ever want to break up with me, that’s your decision, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep you. I was serious when I said I was going to marry you someday. I know you might have thought it was a joke, I mean we were only fourteen, but I meant it with all my heart.” He says, pulling you back to his chest. “Was it David?”

He feels you nod your head against his chest. “Yeah.” You whisper, barely audible.

Noah feels his blood boil, he’d heard rumors from your friends about what he did to you, and he remembered the hospital visits, the bruises and the scars. You didn’t tell him the truth back then, but you opened up to him before you became official, just in case he changed his mind.

He kisses your forehead and whispers, “ I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m so sorry he made you feel this way. But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, always. I love you more than you can imagine. You’re beautiful, you’re strong, you’re amazing. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise. You’re stuck with me.”

You feel his words warm your heart, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. You feel a flicker of hope, a spark of happiness. You smile and say, “I love you. Thank you for being here and being you. I’m not going anywhere either, I promise. You’re stuck with me, too.”

He laughs and hugs you closer, feeling a wave of relief and joy. “Sounds perfect to me. We’re going to be OK, you know that, right? We’re going to get through this together. We’re going to have a happy ending.”

You nod and kiss his chest, feeling loved. “I believe you. We’re going to be OK. We’re going to have a happy ending.” You repeat.

He nods and kisses your hair, feeling love and hope. I love you, Y/n."

“I love you, Noah. I love you more than words can say.” You cuddle up to him, feeling his heartbeat, warmth, and love. You close your eyes, feeling worn out from all the emotions of the day, and drift off to sleep, feeling safe and happy in his arms.

You dream of a better future with him, where you’re both happy and free—a future with only happy endings.

Tags: @thisbicc @yumikitten @lma1986 @chemicallady

#noah sebastian oneshot #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian x reader #noah fic

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8aji · 1 year

Text

Two in love can make it, take my heart and please dont break it. // f.t.

pairing: husband!toji fushiguro x reader, ft. megumi

wc: 1.3k

synopsis: sure, one could think of all those poor parents trying to deal with their kids' attempts at 'parent trapping' them back together, but what about the parents that have the burden of sharing a healthy, happy marriage?

tags/cw: fluff, dad + husband!toji bc best trope to ever exist <3 ooc!toji, mentions of divorce, megumi being very naive, implied insecurity.

a/n: a very very late valentine's gift from me to ya'll <3 i present you this 'parent trap' but not really drabble with toji bc he deserves all the love in the world and im willing to lose sleep if it means he gets it. // quick disclaimer! this was beta read by my best friend grammarly !! so if yall find any mistakes its one them :)

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

"What did you say 'Gumi?" You asked, picking up the wooden spoon you had dropped to the floor. You had heard him loud and clear; louder and clearer than usual you would. But just in case your ears were failing you, you felt compelled to ask again, still stunned at the words that had slipped through your son's lips.

The spiky-haired child next to you pouted in dismay, rolling his tired eyes and dramatically sighing in dismay like a tired old man. He let his cheek fall on top of the marble countertop and looked up at you while blowing a raspberry. He wasn't asking anything out of this world; to him, it was a pretty reasonable request that could be easily arranged if only the two of you talked it out like the adults you were.

"I said," he dragged out, huffing once again and letting his arms sprawl in front of him, "If you and daddy can get a divorce."

"Why do you want us to get a divorce–"

"Who's getting a divorce!" Almost like he weighed nothing, Toji had pulled Megumi up into his arms, rephrasing your question into a lighthearted statement before he carefully spun him around, making the pouty kid break into a fit of giggles.

"You two!" Megumi exclaimed back, throwing his arms up in the air when he felt secure enough in his dad's arms.

"I'm sorry, what?" You almost ran to the other side of the counter the minute Toji's face fell in confusion, almost dropping the child he was oh-so securely holding in his arms. "Are we?"

"'Are we' what?"

"Are we getting a divorce?"

"Yes!"

"No." You cut off an excited Megumi, making him frown again once your husband sat him back down on the counter. He refused to look at you, crossing his arms and moving his face in every direction possible just to avoid your gaze.

Toji shot you a questioning look, trying to telepathically communicate with you at the sight of your seemingly defeated son, the one who had previously been bouncing up and down as he ran towards you once he got back home from Yuuji's house.

You shrugged in return, not having even a clue as to why he was acting like he was denied his lifelong wish. You'd have to admit Megumi could be a very dramatic child when he wanted, but with the subject matter at hand? Your marriage with Toji was as healthy as any marriage could be. The two of you even made the bare minimum of going to therapy before raising a child, so what exactly had prompted your son to ask about a possible divorce? You had no clue; maybe you should call Kaori, and ask her what exactly had gone down at the Itadori household.

"Megs," Toji sat on one of the stools right in front of Megumi, who looked away from his dad just like he had done to you, "why do you want us to get a divorce?"

His question prompted you to follow suit, standing next to him and leaning against his shoulder. Megumi's eyebrows fell into an even deeper frown, hugging his legs close to his chest. He looked straight at his feet, moving them from side to side as if to distract himself from the perfect display of a happy marriage in front of him.

"If you get a divorce." He mulled over the terms of his bargain, tapping his index finger cutely over his chin. "I will learn to tie my shoes on my own, pinky promise."

"'Gumi," you drawled at the evident attempt to avoid the question. You ran your hands through his messy hair, reaching out slowly to see how he would react and almost cooing once he melted against your touch, letting out a yawn in the process. "Aren't you going to answer daddy?"

"Fine," he pouted, making grabby hands towards you; you hadn't realised it was already a little bit past his bedtime. "I want you to get a divorce so me and my friends can get you back together…" He trailed off with a yawn once he was secure in your arms, nuzzling his cheek against the crook of your neck, the last bits of energy wearing off.

"And, uh, how exactly did you come up with this idea?" You patted his back before signalling to Toji with your eyes, silently telling him to help you put Megumi to bed. You had to admit that even if you were caught off guard by his paradoxical master plan, it still made you chuckle in amusement.

"We had a Lindsay Loohan marathon today."

"'You mean Lindsay Lohan sweetheart?" Toji intervened, trying his best to contain his own laughter as he opened the sticker-covered door, letting you walk inside before leaving it ajar.

"Yes, she." he hummed through a sleepy haze, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand. "Princess Diana and the puppy from Air bud were also on the movie as well."

"In the movie." You corrected, a warm smile overtaking your lips as you laid him down in his bed, motioning Toji to grab his doggy pyjamas.

"'m sorry," he mumbled, not bothering to hide the big yawn he let out while he stretched, "Princess Diana and the puppy from Air bud were also in the movie."

"'The parent trap'?" Toji asked, brushing away Megumi's fringe before he began to change him, the hint of a smile clear through his words. It was a comically endearing sight; the humongous man kneeling on the floor in front of a tiny race car bed, making his son laugh by tickling his cheeks.

"'t's one of Yuu's favourite films…"

"Hm, I see." You chuckled, confusion finally melting into a mild amusement as your kid finally left his cryptic questions behind. "And did you like it?"

He hummed again, the sound almost down to an imperceptible whisper; he crawled under his blankets while blindly looking for his black and white dog plushies. "Can we watch it tomorrow with pancakes?"

"Chocolate chip or blueberry pancakes?" Copying Toji's previous antics, you brushed your fingers through his tresses while you waited for a response.

"Both please?"

"That can be arranged," Toji adds, fondly looking at the way Megumi pulled his plushies closer to his chest, curling into a little ball as he hogged the blanket.

You'd do anything in your power to keep the three of you like this; all huddled in your son's bedroom, the only thing illuminating the walls being the small night light next to his bed, with Toji as relaxed as he could be and Megumi all warm and cuddly.

"For the record," your husband whispered next to you, never tearing his eyes from Megumi's sleeping form, "we're not getting a divorce, right?"

Despite his intimidating over 6ft figure, he was the most precious man to ever exist, with so much love to give even if he didn't know how to express it all that well. He had grown so much from how he had been when the two of you first met, slowly opening up to you and the rest of the world in spite of his fears and insecurities. You knew a lot of it was still deeply buried in the depths of his mind; sooner or later it was bound to arise, even if the trigger was one of Megumi's innocent, though mildly out of pocket, jokes.

Careful not to wake up the sleeping toddler, you scooted closer to him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. A small smile etched on his lips at your touch, moving your interlocked hangs back and forth as gently as possible. No language in the world could describe the love you held for the man sitting in front of you. But you could still try. Not with the overtly cheesy words he was still getting used to, or with the thousand paged essay you could write just describing the beauty within his eyes. But with something else, more simple and genuine even if to others the true meaning could get lost in its simplicity.

"I couldn't even dream of it."

#master collection.#jjk collection.#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji x you #toji fluff #toji oneshot #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #tw divorce

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sn00pism · 23 days

Note

Reo’s such a cutie patootie, have any ideas for reo fluff? :))

Hi! omg I agree so much! I do believe he needs therapy though.. (tbh all of them need it, maybe except Isagi??)I don't know if you wanted headcannons or a full fic, but I'm happy to expand on this!

Every second of every minute (I want to spend by your side)

Mikage Reo x reader, as per requested.

He's your biggest supporter!

He's also your hypeman!

TOTAL SIMP

He has to wake up early to train but sometimes ends up being late for wanting to spend five more minutes in bed with you

His styled hair ends up all disheveled

(Nagi teases him for it later, but who has a girlfriend? and who doesn't? aha, that's what he thought)

Makes breakfast before he leaves too

(really just buys you something cause homeboy doesn't really know how to cook. He's taking classes though, so sometimes you'll wake up to blueberry pancakes and a coffee (or tea))

Makes sure you're healthy and gets happy when you tag along to his trips to the gym or on walks.

Tries really HARD to make your parents or friends to get to like him.

(Goes overboard on the gifts and you have to hide his card from him to avoid that. If you can, that is.)

On that note, he spoils you as much as he can. He knows your love can't be bought and that your relationship isn't transactional but he just can't help buying you that plushie you told him you wanted the other day... or those earrings... or that book... Or the whole merch section of your favourite character.

Loves it when you wear his jersey to his games, his number on the back along with the big, bold letters spelling out 'MIKAGE'

He really hopes one day he'll get to pull out that ring that's been sitting on the pocket of one of his most expensive coats.

Mikage Reo loves you with all his heart because he knows you love him unconditionally. You've proved that much to him. Staying next to him even on his worst days.

"Reo? you leaving already?" Reo's heart shakes as he sees you slightly lift your head from the pillows, hair slightly disheveled and sleepy eyes, puffy from the sleep. A warm smile creeps up on his face.

"Yeah, big practice today, game's tomorrow, love" You nod sleepily, blinking up at him. "You'll be late today?" You ask as you yawn, hiding your face on the pillows.

He sighs, nodding, "Yeah... I'm sorry, pretty..." You smile at him, warm, understanding, "It's okay..." You reach to grasp his hand as he sits on the bed. "At least I get to see you play tomorrow" You raise his hand to kiss his hand, right on his ring finger. Reo melts.

"Mhm.." He checks his watch and makes a quick decision, motioning you to scoot over. You see right through him. "Oh no no, no, Reo, baby, no" You refuse to move but Reo is stronger, although his hold is gentle with you, and soon enough he's got you cuddled up, head on his chest, cologne invading your nose. A mix of jazmin and vanilla, not overpowering but nice, comforting. It's hard to not melt into his embrace.

"You'll be late, Reo.." You nudge him over but he doesn't budge.

"I've got.." He checks his watch again, "A few more minutes..." He hugs you tighter, kissing the top of your head "I jus' wanna have some more time with the love of my life, don't push me away, yeah?" You sigh into his chest and nod, "Few minutes, love, then off you go"

He nods, little did you know, he woke up an hour earlier than usual today, just to have a few more minutes with you. After all, you're what gets him through his rigorous training, you're the reason he gets up and faces his day with the goal of being the best. The best for you. Even if he already knows, you've told him so many times, that he is the best in your eyes.

You're the reason why, the next day, after finding you in the crowd, wearing his jersey, his number, his surname, he scores at least 3 out of the 5 goals that makes his team win.

After all, there is a shiny little thing stuffed away in his sweater that's laying near his bottle on the field. A little thing that will bound you guys together forever, as he's sure you're the one.

He just hopes you say yes.

I hope you liked this little blurb I pushed out of my tiny, university squished brain! I'm kind of getting back into writing so it may not make much sense and I'm also studying about script writing via Youtube so I'm sorry if it isn't the most coherent thing out there! I listened to 'A real hero' by College & Electric youth. The vibes were just immaculate if I'm honest.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk headcanons #bllk x y/n #blue lock scenarios #mikage reo #reo mikage #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #reo x you

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dmysterioblog · 1 year

Note

(Larissa anon) Oh sure! I was meaning like would you mind writing some sorta scenerio like this: Larissa Weems x Addams!reader have an argument that leads to Dom!Larissa and Bratty!Reader having sex in her office, but getting interrupted when the family arrives at Nevermore.

➻Almost Caught

Paring: Larissa Weems x Addams!reader

Summary: You acted like a brat towards Larissa and in the middle of your punishment, your family interrupts.

Warnings: d/s undertones, mommy kink, spankings(r receiving), smut, oral sex(Larissa receiving)

Word Count; 790

A/n: I’m so sorry for taking such a long time to update but here I am and I have delivered!

You sat in Larissa’s office, bored out of your mind. She said she would be done in a minute like an hour ago. You sighed loudly to get her attention but she just ignored you. You heard her phone ringing and she picked it up and brought it to her ear. Sitting there waiting, an idea popped into your head. You walked in front of her desk to get her to look at you. Once she did, you started to take off your top, slowly and seductively.

She paused mid-sentence and gave you a warning look. You just smirked at her and proceeded to take off your panties from under your skirt and hand them to her.

“We're going to have to cut this conversation short today,” she said before hanging up the phone. She then got up and took your panties.

“Put your shirt back on. Now. Your parents are going to be here soon and you wouldn’t want them to find you bent over my desk now would you?”

“I think you’re going to have to make me,” you said with a smug look. You watched her and she walked around her desk towards you.

“Fine,” she said in a low voice before bending you over the desk, pinning your hands behind your back. She began to unzip your skirt and pulled it off you, leaving you standing in nothing but your bra.

“Is this what you wanted?,” she started to rub her fingers through your wet folds, “Mommy’s attention? Hm?” You let out a shaky breath.

“Yes.” You gasped when you felt a sting on your cheek.

“You’re such a needy little slut for mommy, right baby?” she spanked your other cheek even harder.

“Yes! Yes, I am! Please touch me, mommy?”

She chuckled at your desperation but her laugh was cut short by a knock on her office door.

“Shit,” she said under her breath.

“One second!” she turned to you, “Get under my desk. Now.” You scurried under her desk quickly while she fixed her appearance. Once she was done, you heard her say ‘come in’. She moved behind her desk again, taking a seat on her chair.

“What a nice office you have Larissa,” you heard your mother’s voice say.

“Why thank you Morticia,” You saw Larissa give her best fake smile. She hated your mom but acted like she didn’t.

They kept on talking about Wednesday’s behavior, her therapy sessions, and a bunch of other things that bored you out of your mind. You began to get uncomfortable under her desk. You tapped her leg as a way to tell her to hurry up but she just ignored you.

You huffed quietly but then you got another idea. You sat up and moved in between her legs. You started to run your hands up her calves. You saw her give you a quick warning look. You just innocently smiled at her before pushing her skirt and spreading her legs apart.

You pulled down her underwear to reveal her glistening pussy. You blew on it to tease her and you felt her shiver a bit. Without warning, you dove in and started eating her out like it was your last meal. You heard her moan which she disguised as a cough.

Larissa was good at hiding her expressions but not for long. You felt her hand sink into your hair and started to pull at it. She started to wrap up the conversation with your mother before she outed both you and herself. Once Morticia was out of the office, she push your face deeper into her sex and release a moan she had been withholding.

You began using your fingers while your mouth worked on her clit.

“Don’t you dare stop Y/n,” she panted.

“I didn’t plan to,” you said. Your voice sent vibrations to her core which made her squeeze your head between her thighs.

“You’re so good for mommy, baby.”

You looked up and we’re mesmerized by the view above. Little droplets of sweat coated her forehead, some white hairs sticking to it. Her chest rose and fell rapidly while her mouth was left agape.

“Baby, I’m close.” This made you speed up your pace, wanting to see her beautiful face as she came undone.

“I’m coming!” She started to grind her sex against your face to chase her climax. You helped her ride it out and once done you finally pulled away and gave her an innocent look.

“Don’t think this got you out of the punishment you will get tonight,” This made you pout and she laughed at your reaction before leaning down to give you a passionate kiss, tasting herself in the process.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #wednesday #wednsday addams #morticia addams #fem reader #office #principal weems #principal larissa weems x reader #x reader #brat!reader #mommy k!nk #fanfic #smut

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falafel14 · 9 months

Text

Jack Wolfe as Gabe Goodman

So I've had a few "Tell me everything!" responses to my recent post about the Donmar Warehouse's stunning new production of Next to Normal. Knowing the audience here, I'll narrow my focus to writing about what I know my fellow 'Six of Crows' fans will most want to hear - Jack's role as Gabe. I won't be recapping the show itself, as I assume most folks reading this will have listened to the soundtrack, read the script, or watched a Broadway bootleg. Or at least I hope so, because below you will find MAJOR SPOILERS for Next to Normal and specifically the Donmar's staging of it.

Gabe is introduced to us as the Goodman's teenage son, who seemingly has a close affectionate relationship with his mother, Diana, but frosty relationships with his father Dan and sister Natalie, neither of whom acknowledge his presence. About thirty minutes in we are shown exactly why. Diana brings out an 18th birthday cake when the family have Nat's boyfriend Henry over for dinner and it is revealed that today would have been Gabe's birthday...if he'd been alive. But Gabe died when he was a baby and Diana has only been imagining him growing up all these years.

Up until this point, Jack has been playing Gabe as a cheeky rebellious teenager, but when he slinks back on stage to blow out the candles on his cake, he becomes a much more ethereal and impish presence. In I Am The One, his expression transforms from sweet and devoted when singing to his mom, to menacing and malevolent when singing to his dad. Gabe manifests as different personas for each member of his family and it's thrilling to watch as Jack shifts between them all. When Natalie comes downstairs to sing Superboy and the Invisible Girl we see Gabe as the cocky conceited older sibling, who seems to revel in being their mother's favorite.

In her next therapy session, Diana is asked to speak about her son and this is when we get Gabe's showstopping I'm Alive solo. This number really did raise the roof. I'll admit when I saw videos of Jack singing it at Tom Kitt's concert, I was worried he wasn't giving the song the necessary attack. But on stage he goes absolutely full-throttle with it. He starts at the top of the stairs with a mic stand, looking like the frontman of a rock band, then he brings the mic down, roaming all over the floor. At one point in the song, Natalie and Dan have an argument and Gabe comes to stand between them, looking amused as he passes the mic between them. However Gabe starts to lose some of his swagger as Diana's doctor suggests that - as 18 is the age that children typically leave home - maybe Diana should think about her son this way and finally let him go.

In the next scene, Diana is in the kitchen, clearing out Gabe's things. She holds up a baby-grow and then starts playing a music box she used to use to help Gabe to sleep. Gabe comes down the stairs with a rucksack and duffle bag, like he's a kid being kicked out of the house by his parents. Diana can't seem to go through with it as she pulls him into a dance and they end up hugging with Gabe's head tucked under his mother's chin, like a needy child. This leads into There's a World, a hauntingly beautiful song with a very sinister undertone as we learn this is Gabe leading Diana towards a suicide attempt. This song and Catch Me I'm Falling are an excellent display of Jack's high range (he'd make a wonderful Orpheus in Hadestown - the UK production is coming next year, so...please??)

Following the suicide attempt, Diana is given shock therapy and consequently loses her memories of the last eighteen years. In the early part of Act 2 and for the song Aftershocks, Gabe is up in one of the upstairs rooms, like he's been locked in a cell - not gone, but no longer able to get to Diana. When Diana finds and plays Gabe's music box, there's this very chilling sight of Gabe's silhouette, his hands pressing to the screen, as he sings along to the melody. The lighting here is eerily reminiscent of a sonogram. When Diana regains her memory of her lost son, Gabe breaks free of the room, comes down the stairs to sing his I'm Alive (Reprise) from on top of the kitchen counter. After his wife's relapse, Dan crumbles to the floor, his back pressed to the kitchen counter. Gabe disappears behind the other side of the counter, and (I'm told, I couldn't see from my angle) he sits in the same position as Dan. They both stay like this for about 15mins while scenes with Diana, Nat and Henry take place.

As Diana leaves, Dan finally rises from the floor and begins singing his I am the One (Reprise). In other videos of this song that I have seen, Gabe is played quite aggressively, stalking around Dan, goading his father into acknowledging him. Jack does this scene very differently and effectively. He stays behind the counter, his eyes downcast, his manner meek as if quietly pleading for his father's attention. When Dan yells out "Why didn't you go with her?!" Gabe leaps up onto the counter and throws his arms around Dan, desperately clinging to him. When they get to the chorus, Dan turns round to face Gabe, gripping his arms. Then at the end, Dan staggers back and tearfully says his son's name for the first time. When Gabe responds with his "Hi Dad", Jack's face his full of shocked awe. He plays it like a child realizing the father he thought hated him, loved him all along. It's a devastating moment that had everyone in tears.

After the song, Dan reaches out a hand towards Gabe, but he stops as Natalie comes downstairs. Dan tells Nat her mother has left and Nat asks him - "So it's just me and you for now?" and there's a hesitation where Dan glances at Gabe, who is still sitting on the counter. When Dan finally answers yes, it's just the two of them, Gabe's expression is accepting, not resentful like earlier in the show. As he leaves to go upstairs, Gabe gently touches Nat's hand, almost like an apology. Natalie gives the slightest reaction, as if she is sensing something. It's a beautiful resolve to Gabe's role, and when he appears for the last time for his verse in Light, he no longer feels like a malevolent spirit, but more like this serene angel watching over his family as they all try to heal and go on with lives.

This is honestly a star-making performance from Jack as a young musical theatre actor. And as much as I want Jack and the other Crows actors to be off filming their spinoff show once the strikes are resolved, I also feel strongly that Jack belongs on the stage. Between his acting, his presence and his vocals, he's sure to be a performer in demand in the West End. Here's hoping there's award nominations to come. He's deserving of them.

#jack wolfe #next to normal #gabe goodman #six of crows #wylan van eck

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your-favorite-god · 8 months

Text

Vita nostra aeterna pt 1

Wednesday's child is full of woe, ep 1

I’m not sure whose twisted idea it was to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago… but I admire the sadism.

A monochromatic girl walked the halls of a seemingly normal high school, walking swiftly when she turned and pulled open a locker. Out falls her younger brother, Pugsley.

“ I want names.”

‘I don't know who they were, honest! It happened so fast…”, the boy panics. He didn't want to witness the outcome of whatever his sister did.

“Pugsley, emotion equals weakness. Pull yourself together.” As her brother continued to squirm and whimper Wednesday tried to start a sentence but was rudely interrupted. Images of what had happened before, her head thrown back as she saw the horrid jocks jeering at her little brother while they tormented him. “Wednesday?”

I’m not about to confess to my brother that I’ve recently been plagued by visions. They come on without warning and feel like electroshock therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn.

“Leave this to me”, Wednesday says as she promptly walks away. “Wednesday? What are you gonna do?” Pugsley questions, now free from his restraints.

“What I do best.”

Endears POV:

“Wednesday, you know I always love your company. But is now the time? I was just about to tell Christina what happened at that gathering her precious Jonathan attended before class started”

She stares at me with a bag of piranhas in hand,” Cara, do you still have the peroxyacetic acid you made?” I look at her with a raised brow, “Of course I do, why?”. “Those fools hog-tied Pugsley and shoved him in his locker. I intend to teach them a lesson.”

I can see how this might be confusing for you, allow me to briefly explain. Wednesday Addams is what most would call my best friend.

Soulmate.

Shush ma morelle, anyways, we met a decade ago in the woods. She intruded upon my home and I found her very cute. So I decided to stay with her, my adorable little human. I came with her to her home and have continued to live with her family. I've even joined her in this boring little hovel named school. Or Should I say schools, we’ve been to many. Wednesday has this horrible habit of getting caught.

It’s more satisfying to watch the looks on my victims' faces.

As you can see, Wednesday has no appreciation for subtlety. But we’re just getting to the fun part, so let us get back to it.

“Well then, allow me to raise you a better idea. Thallium in the principal's coffee. I’d prefer to avoid life on the run for now.” Wednesday pauses for a second, then looks at me with her version of loving eyes. “Brilliant mi vida, as always.”

And off we went.

Non, Je ne regrette rien - Edith Piaf | Wednesday Soundtrack | Wednesday drops piranhas in the pool

We had stepped through the doors of the practice room as I heard the jocks mutter to themselves,

“ Yo Dalton look, pigsleys sister and her weird ass friend. Hey, freaks! This is a closed practice!”

Wednesday leveled them with her usual murderous stare as she spoke,” The only person that gets to torture my brother is me.”

Nothing delighted me more than the fear on everyone's faces as she dropped the bag of piranhas into the pool, blood seeping into the normally crystal-blue chlorine-filled water. And that is how we landed ourselves here. In the Addams family car with Wednesday's parents, Morticia and Gomez. They were singing In Dreams as they doted on one another, Wednesday was brooding next to me. Unsatisfied with being shipped away to her parents' former school. “Darling, how long do you intend on giving us the cold shoulder?” Morticia spoke as Gomez continued to kiss her arm and neck.

“Lurch, please remind my parents that I’m no longer speaking to them,” Wednesday replies, making me grin. I love it when she's like this, all petulant and ruffled, most of the time it means I’ll get to play around while she's busy thinking and sulking. Her mother hums as her father tries to persuade his daughter,” I promise you, my little viper, you will love Nevermore. Won’t she, Tish?” “Of course. It’s the perfect school for her. For them both really.” This irks Wednesday as she replies, “ Why? Because it was the perfect school for you? I have no interest in following in your footsteps. Becoming captain of the fencing team, Queen of the dark prom, president of the seance society.” Morticia looks at Wednesday with a serene face, always ever so calm and poised. “I merely meant that finally, you will be among peers who understand you. Maybe you’ll even make some friends.” Gomez looks at Wednesday with his signature grin,” Nevermore is like no other boarding school. It’s a magical place. It’s where I met your mother.” “and we fell in love.” They look at each other with this mutually infatuated gaze and sigh. Wednesday's eyes darken, if that's possible,” You guys are making me nauseous. And not in a good way.” They looked at her again” Darling, we aren’t the ones who got you expelled. That boy’s family was going to file attempted murder charges. How would that have looked on your record?” Wednesday looked off as her eyes widened slightly,” terrible. Everyone would know I failed to get the job done.” At that I couldn't keep it in, I chuckled as the little family smirked at me. Save for Wednesday of course who was still very occupied with her brooding.

My my, this was going to be a fun new adventure. I can feel it.

As we drove through the strong… iron… gates of this new school, morticia made mention od the weather. An admirable attempt at small talk through the thick silence, normally i would be the one to break it but wednesday specifically told me to give her parents the cold shoulder. If I’m being honest i dont entirely understand why but she looked so cutr and annoyed when she asked in her own way. How did she word it again? Oh yes, i was to be silent or else she would lock me in a tower and take all my jewelry. And my tongue.

3rd POV

Finally the small family unit had made it to the principals office, greeted by Larissa weems.

“Wednesday is certainly a unique name, i'm guessing it was the day you were born?” she spoke with a grin, after everyone had taken their appropriate seat. Save of course for endeara, she preferred to stand. Tall in her red bottom pumps and silk blouse, she had taken her place behind wednesday, gazing at her new principle with a veiled look of boredom and small smile.

“I was born on friday the 13th.” wednesday quickly rectified, as morticia followed, “Her name comes from a line from my favorite nursery rhyme, Wednesdays child is full of woe.”

“You always had a unique perspective on the world morticia, did your mother tell you we used to be roomates?” Principle weems said fondly, her welcoming facade staying strong through the addam’s penetrating gazes.

“And you graduated with your sanity intact? Impressive.” wednesday spoke again. The topic quickly changed as the principle spoke of her and endearas “interesting educational journey.”

“Eight schools in five years?” Weems questioned,” They havent built one strong enough to hold us. I’m sure this one wont be any different.” wednesday replied with her same bluntness. Endeara simply smiled as her parents bristled and were about to reply,” Thats just wednesdays way of trying to say she is very excited for this new opportunity. As am i, and thank you for giving us such a gift.” their new principle seemed to fully take in endeara then, all elegance and playful smiles as she dressed in her small red bottomed pumps and silk black blouse.

“Nevermore doesn’t usually accept students mid-term, but given their perfect grades and your family’s long history with the school, I’ve spoken with the board and we’ve made an exception.” Weems said simply as the addams parents joined hands in satisfaction, “what about their um,... therapy sessions? The court ordered them.” morticia eyed her daughter as she spoke, hesitant to ask. “The school school has a relationship with a therapist in jericho, she can meet twice a week.” they all looked to wednesday as gomez spoke,” did you hear that my little storm cloud? Youre in excellent hands.”

“We’ll see if she survives the first session” wednesday quipped back, her gaze unwavering to the woman in front of her as mortica and endeara grinned at her as well.

The principle resumed again, unbothered. Truly impressing endeara as she spoke again,” ive assigned wednesday to her mothers old dorm. Ophelia hall.” morticia gasps and chuckles excitedly as wednesday turns to her and says,” refresh my memory. Ophelia’s the one who kills herself after being driven mad by her family, correct?” morticia nods happily as the principle leans forward with a plastered grin

“Shall we go meet your new roommate?’

Endearas POV

We go to wednesdays new dorm and its… something. The family is stunned as morticia speaks,” its so… vivid.” The girl, the new roommate, looks at me and gasps excitedly “Howdy roomie!” and i have to bite my lips from cackling. I mean this is just beautiful, but our principle steals all the fun and introduces wednesday. “wednesday , this is enid sinclair.” Enid looks to from me to wednesday confused, maybe even disappointed, as she asks,” are you okay? You look a little pale.” and mortica smiles as she explains,”wednesday always looks half dead.” “its genetic” i whisper, smiling at the girl. Enid goes in for a hug from wednesday as we both step back, she looks disheartened as she mumbles,” not a hugger. Got it.” morticia pipes up again,”please excuse wednesday. She’s allergic to color.” enid looks shocked,” oh wow. What happens to you?”

“I break out in hives and then the flesh peels from my bones.” this is when our principle speaks again,” luckily weve special ordered your and endears new uniforms. Enid, please take them to the registrar’s office to pick it up along with her schedule, and give them a tour along the way.”

I whisper quietly to Wednesday, ”If they dare put me in cheap, scratchy, suffocating material…i will raze this school to the ground.” Wednesday almost smirks as the Addams look at me in pride and the other two look at me in horror. This tour better be good.

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