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slasherscream · 9 months ago

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He’s Just Not That Into You

pairing: jordan li x reader

summary: a hopeless romantic, you keep looking for love in all the wrong places, with all the wrong guys. that is, until you meet jordan li, who takes pity on you and tries to help you learn when a guy just isn’t into you.

gif credit: artemidosgifs

“You good?”

"Huh?" Dazed and drifting, you look up from your incredibly important task of peeling off the label for the worst tasting artisanal beer ever created.

You quickly remember why you focused on the task in the first place. The lighting at this party sucks. It's mostly dim, to try and hide all the unsavory things happening in every corner of the house. The brightest bits of it are all flashing. Neon blue. Neon red. Neon green. As if anyone has ever looked good in neon green lighting. That plus the never-ending movement of people dancing is enough to make you sick.

"Are you good or are you starting to tweak?" Your eyes adjust enough to see who's talking and you sit up straighter. Jordan Li. Number #2.

She's wearing her ever present scowl that makes you study extra hard in Brink's class. You don't ever want to be in the position to have to ask for clarification on an assignment or further guidance. Brink's so busy being renowned that he's a pretty absent teacher, if you're not one of his favorites. Everything menial falls to Jordan.

"I'm good! Totally good. Just vibing, y'know."

Jordan stares down at you, looks back out onto the sea of partygoers, "What vibe do you think you're matching?"

“Excuse me?”

"You've been sitting here for almost twenty minutes. You've barely moved. Did you take something?"

"No! I.... I didn't take anything. I'm just enjoying the atmosphere."

Jordan rolls her eyes, takes the beer bottle from your hand, and then takes your hand itself. She pulls you to your feet, easy, despite the way you go limp at the last second to try and stay seated. Without a word she begins to pull you through the crowd. Bewildered, you follow.

She doesn't stop till you're outside on the porch. Surprisingly, no one else is lingering. But the air has a chill that's pretty biting for an early day in fall. You take a deep breath. You hadn't realized how loud the music really was. How overwhelming every smell. The itch that crawled across your skin with each jostle of a body coming too near.

"Yeah, you look like you were really enjoying the atmosphere." Jordan drawls, leaned up against the railing, observing you.

Your first instinct was to say 'fuck you' to that, obviously. But at the last second you remember she is your TA and is probably doing all the actual grading for every assignment you turn in.

You force a smile, "Thank you. Guess I was feeling pretty anxious."

"What are you even doing here?"

"Should... I mean, I was... invited? If that's what you're asking. Although I think crashing parties is pretty typical college stuff, even if I wasn't-"

“Not what I meant.” Jordan interrupts, “I mean you don’t usually go to parties. I never see you at any of them.”

“Maybe we just run in different circles.”

“Not really. You’re in the top ten now. What did you jump to, number 6?”

“Seven, actually.”

“Really? Well, won’t be long. Number 6 is a dick. He’ll be easy to knock out with the type of stats you’re pulling this year.”

Somehow, this compliment bewilders you more than anything. Jordan must see it on your face, because she rolls her eyes again.

“I keep an eye on the competition. Even if you are just a sophomore.”

“Okay, Junior.” You narrow your eyes at her. She narrows hers back, which feels like overkill, because she was already glaring.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Did they hire you to be the bouncer for this party?”

“Jesus, ‘m just making conversation. You looked like you were gonna hurl in there. What? Did your friends drag you here then ditch you?”

“My friends would never do that. That violates the party safety rule. Arrive together, leave together.”

“Oh of course.” She says, nodding in a way that feels sarcastic.

“I actually came without my friends.” You say, standing up straighter. Proud of yourself for stepping out of your shell even if it ended on a sour note.

“You did?” Jordan raises an eyebrow. You deflate a little at the shocked tone. Even your TA thinks you’re lame.

“Well…. I was supposed to meet someone here. But they… I dunno, I must’ve missed them. Or whatever.”

“Who were you supposed to meet?”

You hesitate for a second, but they impatiently gesture for you to go on. So, begrudgingly you admit to, “Uuuuh… Andre?”

“Andre?” In the blink of an eye they shift, and take a step closer. As if he wants you to see the disbelief on his face as clearly as possible. “How do you know Andre?”

“What happened to we run in the same circle?” You snap back. “Andre’s top ten.”

“Andre’s a fucking nepo baby.” Jordan scoffs

“Aren’t you friends?” You frown.

“Andre barely shows up to class, he knows why he’s top ten, trust me.” Jordan says. “Andre invited you?”

“Yes, Andre invited me. We were at the club last week and you know…talked.”

“You were at the club? You’re changing it up like crazy this year, huh L/N?”

“Lot of good it’s doing me.” You sigh. You twist the sleeve of your top, wrinkling the fabric. You’d spent hours picking out the perfect outfit that looked like you weren’t trying too hard, but brought out all your best features.

Jordan’s face twists, you’d almost mistake it for sympathy, “Did you see Andre at all tonight?”

“Did he come here with you?”

“Would you like me to lie or tell you the truth?”

You sigh, moving to sit down on the porch steps, emotionally and socially exhausted. “It’s okay, I already know the answer.”

A moment of silence before Jordan moves to sit beside you. He offers back up the beer he took from you earlier, “You look like you could use a drink.”

“Eh, you have it. If you’re not a germaphobe. Thanks for rescuing me.”

Jordan shrugs, takes a sip and almost spits it right back out, “God it tastes like fucking piss.”

“You weren’t very nice to me during the rescue, so you didn’t deserve a warning.”

“Well fuck me, I guess.” He laughs, staring at you. He let’s out a sigh of his own, “So which line did he use?”

“Huh?”

“What did Andre say to you?”

“He didn’t use a line.” You protest.

“Andre doesn’t know how to do anything but use a line. Wait! Lemme guess,” Jordan looks you up and down before glancing at a few rings on your hand. “Were you wearing those?”

You stare back at him.

“Well?”

“Yes, I was, why?”

“Did he come up to you with one of them and ask if you dropped it?”

“.....Maybe. I repeat, why?” You ask, stomach twisting.

“Cause he slipped it off your finger with his powers so he’d have an opening. It’s his go to for girls that look shy. Seen it a million times.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, actually. Fuck me!” You groan, laying back against the steps and throwing your hands over your face. “You’re really good at comforting people, did you know that?”

“I’ve been told to work on it.”

“Clearly not enough.”

“Just didn’t want you to fall for the bullshit any more than you already have.”

You scrub your face harshly, trying to ignore the tightness in your throat. “Sorry. Do you like apples? I can put a nice shiny one on your desk Monday morning as a thank you for the solid.”

“Are you about to cry?” Jordan asks, bewildered.

“No.”

“Over Andre Anderson?”

“No!” You sit up, glaring at him. He glares back. “Not exactly. It’s just… I don’t put myself out there a lot. So it sucks. That I tried… and all I got was a guy who fed me a line he’s used a million different times on a million different girls, who then ditched me at a party he invited me to. I should’ve just fucking stayed home.”

You sniffle and then remember who you’re actually talking to and how awkward it’s going to be to see their face Monday morning for class if you keep spilling your guts. You stand up abruptly, already planning on apologizing for whatever you said while you were “drunk” tonight. You’re opening your mouth to make your excuses, already taking steps away from the stairs when Jordan reaches out, grabbing you gently by the wrist.

“Wait! I’m… sorry, I mean-”

“Why are you sorry?” You sniff, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I could’ve… I could’ve been nicer. About telling you. About Andre.” Jordan pulls you to sitting back down beside him, slowly, so you can pull away if you really wanted to.

“It’s okay. I should’ve known better.” You say quietly.

“Hey, no. I made it sound like he’s super obvious about it but he’s honestly pretty smooth. His only hobbies are picking up girls and cocaine. He could make… fucking, I dunno, Ellen Ripley blush if he had the prep time! It’s really not your fault.” The comment surprises a wet laugh out of you and Jordan smiles, bumping your shoulders together.

“Thanks, but he probably was obvious. I just… don’t see stuff like that coming very well.” You laugh bitterly.

“What do you mean?”

“I apparently just can’t tell for shit when a guy is actually into me! Or just… entertaining himself.” You sigh.

You and Jordan sit in silence for a second. You have no clue what’s going on in his head. You see him tapping his finger on the beer bottle, the sound of his rings the only noise for a moment.

“I could help you.”

“Help me what?”

“I could teach you how to spot when a guy is just being an asshole or when he’s serious about you. So this doesn’t happen again.” Jordan shrugs, taking another swallow of the beer, flinching again at the taste.

“Piss kink or short term memory loss?”

“Offer retracted.” Jordan laughs.

“Why are you offering in the first place?”

Jordan shrugs, looking out in the distance, “You’re… cool, y’know. Think of it as a welcome to the top ten gift. You’re only gonna get more and more attention now that you’re there. You’ll need to be able to sniff out bullshit or you’ll get eaten alive. No offense.”

“I’ve been in the top ten for the last six months.” You scowl.

“Mazel tov.”

“Dick.” You scoff, fighting back another laugh. You and Jordan make eye contact and both lose the battle, laughing together.

You take a deep breath once the fit passes, “This isn’t a top ten humiliation ritual of initiation thing, right?”

“I’m way too busy to waste my time doing stupid shit like that.” Jordan says, familiar glare falling back onto his face.

“Sorry, rough night, had to ask.” You say sheepishly. “Offer still open?” You smile, extending your hand out for a handshake.

“Yeah, offers still open, L/N.” Jordan rolls his eyes, but he does shake your hand.

“So, number’s one pretty obvious but we have to establish the basics because you told me you were hopeless.” Jordan sips her chocolate milkshake.

“Didn’t use the word hopeless, but sure.” You mutter, tossing a fry into your mouth and frowning at the lack of flavor. “Hit me.”

“If he calls off plans with you all the time he’s not interested. If he doesn’t give you as much heads up as humanly possible before he has to cancel a plan or bail then he might actually hate you.”

“You’re exaggerating.” You scoff, shaking extra salt onto your fries.

Jordan reaches over, stealing one of your now delicious fries to dip it into her milkshake. “It’s a type of power play. Too many reasons to name why a guy might feel the need to pull something like that but we don’t wanna get too complicated. All you need to do is memorize the red flags and run when you see them.”

“Okay…. follow up question, what would you consider to be ‘all the time’?”

“If you just started seeing each other and he cancels two dates in a row without desperately trying to make it up to you he doesn’t give a shit.” Jordan steals and dips another of your fries.

“What about emergencies? Like… I dunno, a funeral? What if his Aunt died? So he cancels that one date. Then the next one he tries to plan his car breaks down or something, you know?”

“He should call an uber and get to the fucking location of the date come hell or high water. That’s what a guy who likes you is gonna do. Don’t over complicate, L/N.”

“Oh and you don’t think you’re over-complicating the process of eating my fries?” You smack at her hand as it reaches for your plate for the umpteenth time during this lunch. “You could have ordered fries. Why didn’t you order fries?”

“Didn’t want any until I saw yours.” She tries again but you see the movement coming and block her hand, again. You did not notice the second, slightly sneakier hand that does successfully carry out the theft.

“Did you just juke me over a fry?

“Yeah, and I won.”

You toss a fry at her and laugh when she manages to catch it with her mouth. Asshole.

You sit on the corner of Jordan’s desk, watching as he finishes up some last minute work that Brink asked him to do before heading out. You’d offered to meet back up later but he just shook his head and said it wouldn’t take long.

“What if he’s just a private person?” You ask, kicking your feet lightly.

Jordan looks up from his laptop and frowns at you, “Why are you trying to invent exceptions to the rules? The rules are there to help you. Can you say that for me, L/N? Can you say the rules are there to help me?”

“The rules are there to help me.” You repeat back, mocking their tone.

“Thank you.” Jordan smirks at you, “Like I said, if he’s hiding your relationship from the world then he’s not serious about you. He should be introducing you to people. You should be on his social media. People should not be shocked you exist when meeting you. All that bullshit.”

“And if they’re a private person?” You challenge.

Jordan pushes away his laptop, turning to face you. “Fuck me. The types of guys you’re gonna be around as a hero are all gonna be doing the same stuff as you. There’s gonna be a certain level of our life that’s always in the spotlight. Minimum of two posts a week if he’s constantly posting in general.”

“I don’t post very much.” You counter.

“You should be posting more. Especially as a top ten. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be number 6 right now. You need to be more active on socials.” Jordan gives you a look before going back to typing. Two weeks ago that look would have put you on the verge of tears. Now you roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it.”

“It was an order as your TA, actually.”

“Oh god, an order? I’m shaking in my boots.” You tease, playfully kicking his chair.

“That just knocked your essay from a B- to a C, congratulations.” Jordan quips.

“You were gonna mark my essay a B-, you dick? You know damn well I don’t turn in B- work. Who do you think-”

The rest of the afternoon is lost to playful outrage. The papers get graded late. Yours comes back an A+. No one besides you has gotten a grade of + anything since Jordan became TA.

“Okay, so this is one with a grey area.” Jordan says.

“Oh no.”

“Shut up. If he never gets jealous that’s a red flag.”

“But-” You sit up from where you’re laid out on the blanket you threw on the ground to better soak in the last warm rays of September sun.

“I am not saying go out with some overly possessive fucking maniac.” Jordan cuts you off.

“Be specific, Jordan. You can’t give me rules with built in exceptions. I’ll fail. Is that what you want? You want me to fail, Jordan? That’s messed up-”

“Shut up-” Jordan laughs, shaking her head. “Listen to me, if a guy never gets jealous he just doesn’t care at all. The most namaste, enlightened dude on the planet will get jealous in the right situation. I’m not saying tolerate anything crazy. It’s just good if he like… responds, when you say you’re going to study alone with another dude at 9pm, in the guy’s dorm... while his roommate is gone.”

“Is studying alone with another dude, in his dorm while his roommate is gone, okay as long as it ends before 9pm?”

Jordan rips out grass from the ground and tries to sprinkle it onto your face. You put up a force-field and laugh when she sticks her tongue out.

“He’s gotta give you his full attention. When he’s with you, he’s with you. Everyone gets distracted. But if his head is always somewhere else, every time you see him, he just doesn’t like you.” Jordan swipes at your head, fast enough to be a challenge to dodge but not hard enough to hurt you had the hit connected.

You go in for a kick yourself and he practically twirls out of the way. You try twice more, managing to evade his own hits just barely.

Breathlessly, you gesture for a time out and Jordan sighs, “We gotta get you better at hand to hand.”

“That’s what my shields are for.”

“The way you use your shields is really good. You’ve gotten a lot more creative this year. It’s why you’ve been jumping ranks so fast. You’re powerful.”

The earnest tone he uses makes you lift up from the hunched over position of misery on your knees, “You think so?”

“Well…. yeah.” He clears his throat. “But you can’t get lazy. What if someone wears you out and you don’t have any energy left for them? No more shields. You need to be able to fight.”

“If I don’t have any energy left for my shields and my only option left is hand to hand combat, respectfully, it’s my time.”

Jordan rolls his eyes, “Break’s over. Back in position, stay on your toes more so it’s easier to move, okay?”

You’re about to get back into form when you hear calls of Jordan’s name from across the arena. You turn and see Luke and Cate coming over, wide grins on their faces. You give them a small wave and they both wave back, incredibly eager.

You’ve always been friendly with one another but the strength of enthusiasm is… strange. Enough to make you blink in surprise.

“Thought you said you were super booked up this week doing stuff for Brink? Absolutely no free time.” Cate asks, staring Jordan down.

“This isn’t free time. I can’t slack on hand to hand combat training. It’s important.” Jordan stares Cate down even harder.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Luke asks casually.

“Jordan saw my form in a video I just posted and apparently it was ‘despicable’ and ‘the most insane way he’d ever seen anyone do that before’. He rushed over to show me what the ‘right way to do it is’. Control freak.” You fake a cough as you say the last part.

“You were gonna hurt your back!”

“Super healing.”

“Super herniated disc.” Jordan quips back and you scoff, shoving him.

He shoves you back with an eye roll, fighting back a smile.

“How ungentlemanly of you.” You gasp. A shift, and she shoves you again making you laugh, “and unladylike!”

“You shoved me first!”

“Children, please try and be civil we’re in public.” Luke cuts in and you almost jump at the sound of his voice.

It’s easy to get lost in your own world when you’re with Jordan. You turn to be politely facing your classmates and not just Jordan, wearing a sheepish smile.

“Stop teasing them. They’re cute.” Cate smiles.

“Anyways, you guys need something?” Jordan asks.

“We can’t just hang out? Are you trying to get rid of your best friends?” Luke asks.

“Yes.”

“Jordan!” You bump her with your elbow.

“Okay, okay. We’ll leave you alone. Wanna grab lunch with us after though?” Cate asks, looping her arm through Luke’s.

“You feeling up to lunch, L/N?” Jordan looks over at you.

With three unexpected pairs of eyes on you, you fluster. “If you go easy on me for the rest of training, yes.”

“Not a chance.” Jordan snorts. “We’ll be there though. Now scram. L/N needs a lot of help.”

“No, I fucking do not!” You protest.

The two of you don’t notice Luke and Cate walking away trading looks.

“When you don’t know really know anything about him, it’s not a good sign.” Jordan tilts the bowl of popcorn towards you.

“And what do you mean, specifically, by knowing anything about him?” You ask, taking some pieces and throwing them back.

“Has has ever shared his feelings? Talked about his personal life? If you don’t know anything besides the superficial stuff he doesn’t care about you.” Jordan states. “You also need to look out for him not knowing anything about you. Does he give you space to open up? Does he remember the shit you do tell him?”

“Got it, so just look out for the superficial surface level conversations if you never have any deeper moments.” You say.

“Exactly.” Jordan says before her eyes snap back to the screen suddenly. “Did they say they’re gonna try and make that house feel more ‘open concept’? What the fuck is their problem?”

“Huh?” You look back to Jordan’s TV, which is playing Property Brothers. “You got a problem against open concept?”

“I have a problem with every house being made to look the same, inside and out. It’s bad enough new houses don’t have unique floor plans. Now we’re taking houses that were unique and fucking them up till they’re boring! What ever happened to individuality? I bet they’ll paint the walls grey too. Fuck me.” She huffs, leaning back against the couch.

“Are you really into this show or just really into design patterns?” You ask, charmed at her passion for something completely random.

“A bit of both.” Jordan says. “I wanted to be an architect. Before I got my powers.”

“Shut up! No, you did not.”

“I did.” She laughs, “I used to draw up plans and torment my parents with them every hour of the day.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking about your hidden passions.

You even get the honor of seeing a few of the sketches Jordan made years ago. They were crinkled at the edges, pencil markings dull with age in some places. You smiled down at the folder Jordan keeps the drawings in. When you look up, finally, to compliment them you notice a strange look on Jordan’s face.

Thinking you’d made her self conscious with your long silence you wrapped an arm around her and told her she would have made a hell of an architect. And probably killed someone with the utter lack of load bearing beams in her structures.

You expected her to shove you off playfully but she only leaned into you and smiled, flipping to the next page of the folder.

When you get back to your own dorm room, moon high in the sky, you have to stifle a laugh. The latest post on Jordan’s Instagram is a picture of you standing with your hands on your hips in the middle of their room, looking baffled.

The caption: I handed her the remote and walked away for five minutes. We’ve been looking for almost an hour #jesus christ #banned from room 4ever.

You step out into the hallway and call Jordan up, demanding they take down their character assassination attempt because you two only looked for 26 minutes, actually.

They refuse.

You’re so incensed by the exaggeration that you wind up back outside Jordan’s dorm room not ten minutes later. When she opens the door, and sees you standing there, she bursts into laughter. She drags you inside, and when you ask her when the ban got lifted she just throws you on the bed. You spend the rest of the night arguing semantics.

You and Jordan were sitting in the ground floor of the school’s library where you were allowed to talk quietly. You were teaching them how to fold paper to make little stars while they were teaching you how to make the perfect paper airplane.

“Are you filled with barely suppressed rage? Why is it so damn wrinkled?” You laugh at their mangled star.

Jordan grabs another piece of paper with a huff, pushing her bob back behind her ears. “You are shit at giving instructions. This is impossible. Do the steps slower again.”

“I’m sorry, I’m actually not capable of slowing myself down times 3 like a Youtube video.” You tease.

“Fuck you.” Jordan kicks you under the table with her foot. “Again. Show me.”

“You start with this corner here, then you twist it over here, next you wanna-”

“Hey! Hey! What’s up people!” You and Jordan turn in perfect sync to hiss at the person to be quiet only to find that person to be Andre Anderson.

You turn back towards the table, Jordan moves an arm to curl around the back of your chair.

“Hey.” Jordan says flatly. You make some noise that you hope passes for a greeting.

“Sorry, too loud. So this is where the party is, huh? What’re you two doing?” Andre grabs a chair on the opposite side of the table and you frown, focusing intensely on the paper before you.

“Don’t you have a class right now?” Jordan asks sharply.

“Blowing it off.” Andre grins back.

Jordan scoffs. You only notice your shoulders are practically up to your ears when Jordan puts her hand there and rubs. You relax, letting out a quiet breath you were holding. Jordan gives you a squeeze.

“Awww, you making little stars? Cute. Wanna show me how, F/N?” Andre has the nerve to sound flirtatious.

After ditching you without a word and radio silence to back it up. To really make sure there’s insult to match the injury. You clench your jaw. Keep moving your hands. Try to zone out.

The hand on your shoulder gets bigger and so does the thigh that brushes against yours under the table. “Could you fuck off for a bit? We’re trying to relax after our exams this morning.”

“Ouch. Didn’t know you couldn’t relax with me around, man.” Andre bites back. “F/N, you want me to stay, don’t you?”

You get up from the table abruptly. The sudden sting in your eyes doesn’t even allow you you to collect your things. Your chest feels tight. You have to just get out of here. You hope in a school of future superheroes no one will steal your stuff. You think you hear calls of your name from behind you. Some yelling. Your ears are ringing too much. You break into a sprint.

You can’t even make it to your dorm. You have to settle for tucking yourself into the first patch of trees behind a building you can find. You try to fight back the tears. One breathe. Two. Three. Try to focus on the birds chirping somewhere above you. But the memories are all flooding in at once and you start to cry. Heaving, chest burning sobs.

“F/N. F/N. F/N, hey look at me.” You zone back into the world to Jordan pushing your hair away from your face and you sob.

“Fuck me, I’ll kill him. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d get so upset. You seemed like you didn’t care after that night… I- I’ll fucking knock his teeth in.” Jordan hisses. You’d thought you’d seen them angry before. But their face has never looked like this.

“What’s… are you having a panic attack?” Jordan asks, still petting your hair gently. You manage to nod. “Is touching you okay? Is it making it worse?” You push yourself into his hands and without another word he pulls you into his lap, tucking you against him.

You notice absently he’s wearing his favorite jacket and try to shift, so that you’re not getting tears and snot onto the fabric. He pushes your head back against his shoulder, shushing you gently. You let yourself relax, letting out the rest of the tears. Letting the anxiety leave your body. You start your grounding techniques as your breathing evens. You can see the sharp cut of Jordan’s jaw. Hear his heartbeat. The birds chirping. Feel his hands as they rub soothing circles into your skin. Smell the cologne he wears. You tuck yourself closer, even though no more tears are coming.

“Andre is a fucking loser.” Jordan says, quietly but vehemently, “You shouldn’t waste a second fucking thinking about him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. It’s not you. It’s just who he is.”

“It’s not just Andre… It’s… it’s not even mostly Andre.” You say quietly. “I mean he’s a dick but… it just brings up memories.”

“Memories?” Jordan echoes softly, and you know you don’t have to tell him anything but you want to.

“When I was younger… I was even more of a wall flower than I am now. Shocker, I know.” You try to joke, Jordan only hums to let you know he’s listening, pulling you closer. “Even though I had powers I wasn’t popular or anything. I had trouble controlling them. Not enough to be dangerous… just enough to be… well, a loser, honestly. Because of my anxiety, and how loud my head gets my force-fields would just pop out whenever. I couldn’t stop it. If I was scared. If I got nervous. If I was feeling stupid, or ugly. All the time. People called me bubble girl.”

“I learned to just keep to myself but I was such an easy, fun target. Sneak up on the mouse and watch them jump and make a bubble! Fun!” You laugh bitterly. You think you feel Jordan kiss the top of your head, but you’re still out of it. “It made even getting out of bed to go to school hard. Administration wouldn’t take it serious as bullying because I was a supe: if I wanted it to stop I should defend myself.”

“My parents felt the same way. Wouldn’t let me transfer. But I didn’t want to fight back. I didn’t want to turn myself into something I’m not just to be left alone! I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought eventually everyone would get bored, mature a little. But it just got worse and worse every fucking year. Senior year was… bad, though. I was getting better at controlling my powers so what kids would do to make me react was worse. But I just ignored it. I started just… pulling into myself. Whenever anyone would pour paint on my favorite outfit. Or cut my hair. Or hit me, I’d make the bubble in my head instead, and go there. Eventually, towards the end I thought people finally got bored, they stopped fucking with me as much. I thought I’d be able to graduate in peace.”

“There was this one boy… he was popular. But he’d always been nice to me. He smiled at me in the hallways. Would help me up if people shoved me when he was around. He even gave me his sweater once, when someone cut up my shirt during gym. His friends were dicks but I thought he was different, I thought he was nice.”

“He suddenly started being even more nice to me. It felt… when he asked me to prom I just wanted to be normal for one second. I should have known. I probably did know. I just wanted to pretend, for five seconds, I wanted to pretend.” You trail off, lost in the memory.

“What happened?” Jordan asks, voice sounding hoarse. You try to pull back to see what’s wrong but he keeps you still. You realize he started rocking the both of you as you spoke. You didn’t realize how soothing it was.

“It was a joke, obviously. We went to go shopping together, so we’d match, he told me. When we got to the shop he insisted we go to all his friends were waiting for us. Recording, of course. They all laughed at me. I still remember what one girl said, ‘you’re more crazy than we thought if you honestly ever believed someone like him would go out with a loser like you’.”

“F/N, those people were fucking assholes. They… god what the fuck is wrong with people. That’s not true.” Jordan makes you look at him, suddenly. You’re shocked that his eyes are red. “You’re not a fucking loser.”

“It’s okay, Jordan. I know they were just assholes. I always knew. It just hurts still. I’ve… I’ve avoided dating ever since, obviously. My first kiss wasn’t even romantic. It was just with a good friend that I knew wouldn’t make fun of me. So I could get it out of the way.”

“I’m sorry.” Jordan looks helpless, like he wants to do something but doesn’t know what.

“You didn’t do anything, Jordan. No need to say sorry.”

“And then Andre went and fucking… fucking motherfucker I’ll kill him!” Jordan snaps, goes to stand up and then remembers he’s holding you halfway. He sits back down, grip a little tighter, but still gentle.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t even a joke, what Andre did. He’s just… inconsiderate. And I happen to have a nasty experience that makes me blow everything out of proportion. I’ll have to get used to that kind of thing if I want to actually start dating.”

Suddenly both of Jordan’s hands are on your face, holding you still so you have to look at him. “You’re not blowing anything out of proportion. And… and you don’t have to get used to shit, F/N. You’re fucking incredible. You don’t need to tolerate anything, from fucking anyone. You’re a fucking… you’re a fucking dream girl! You’re smart, and funny, and sweet, and strong, and beautiful. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You don’t have to settle for fucking anything. Okay?”

You stare up at him, shocked, he gives your head a gentle shake, “Okay?” You nod slowly.

He pulls you into another hug, the tightest one you’ve ever gotten. You don’t pull away until the sun dips so low you’re both draped in gold.

“Fucking rank number fucking 5!” Jordan screams, arm wrapped around you tightly. A chorus of cheers from the rest of the group and people nearby.

You cover your face, laughing helplessly. Jordan didn’t surprise you with this party, they knew that would only make you anxious, walking into a room full of people you weren’t expecting to see with (even if asked not to) cameras pointed at you.

Jordan had texted you: I am throwing you a surprise party on Friday night to celebrate your new ranking. Please practice your surprised face.

You had practiced. You’d done a very convincing gasp when you walked in.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Jordan says, for the umpteenth time, looking at you. You feel your cheeks go hot.

“Oh shut up. I’ll get a big head soon.”

“You deserve it more than anyone. You’re fucking awesome.” Jordan had started heaping more praise onto you than you knew what to do with, most days.

She claimed it was practically training. That you needed to get used to people complimenting you, with the level of fame you’re going to reach. That alone had made your stomach erupt into butterflies. Jordan believed in you. Really believed in you.

“You’re the one who’s awesome… you’re a good mentor, Jordan.” You reach up to hold the hand that’s been wrapped around your shoulder all evening.

“Are you saying that following my advice works?” Jordan pretends to gasp. You playfully dig your nails into her side and she jumps before grabbing the offending hand and holding onto it. She doesn’t let go.

Her advice had worked. You posted on your social media more, at her insistence. You started to become a beast at hand to hand, thanks to Jordan’s brutal training regimen. You were socializing more, because as long as Jordan was there you felt safe. But you were even feeling confident enough to do things on your own that high school you would be shocked didn’t instantly send you to the grave.

You’d done an interview, for God’s sake! All on your own. Although your eyes kept darting to Jordan right off camera, who smiled reassuringly the whole time.

“I will not. Because then you’ll get a big head.” You tease, giving both her hands a squeeze.

“Let’s get a drink.” Jordan says, tugging you towards the kitchen.

It’s quieter in the kitchen. The drink table in the living room is still overflowing so no one’s had to start looking for leftovers yet.

“How you feeling?” Jordan asks, helping you sit on the counter before going to the fridge. After a second he pulls out your favorite. He hid them in the far back, you can tell by how far he had to lean.

“Good.” You smile as he pops your drink open before handing it to you. He leans against one of your knees.

“Party isn’t too much, right?” He asks, for the third time tonight.

Laughing you push a strand of unruly hair back from his face. He freezes at the touch, before a smile creeps onto his lips.

“Party is perfect, Jordie. Thank you. For everything. For being so…”

“Don’t thank me for treating you the way you should always be treated.”

“You treat me like a princess! What if I get spoiled? You’ll have to deal with a monster.” You tease. “You won’t even be able to be mad at me, because you’ll be the reason.”

“You’ll terrorize the world.”

“Cause complete chaos.”

“Devastation, even.” As Jordan speaks you realize you’d gotten closer. A lot closer. Your chest seizes up with anxiety as you wonder how long you’d been leaning in like this. You almost pull back, ready to apologize. But you’re frozen stiff now and realize the two of you are still getting closer. With a jolt you realize you both leaned in.

Jordan has a hand on your thigh, you reach down, nervous, to hold his hand as reflex. It’s an every day comfort, lately. You give his hand a squeeze. He squeezes back. You don’t pull away as Jordan keeps leaning in.

“Jordan! Come stop Luke from doing a keg stand, please!” Cate’s voice, typically pleasant sounds incredibly annoying at the moment.

“Gimme a sec!” Jordan calls back, still looking you in the eye. You squeeze his hand tighter. He looks nervous. They’ve looked so nervous all night. Nervous you were having a good time. Nervous you were happy. Nervous… nervous to kiss you? Is he about to fucking kiss you?

“He has an interview tomorrow! Hustle please!” Cate calls back in a sing song tone.

“Fuck me!” Jordan throws his head back, shifting, frustrated. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You nod, a little breathless from anxiety and excitement, and dread, and the full spectrum of human emotion. “Okay.”

Jordan stomps out of the kitchen, probably going to rip Luke a new asshole from the sound of her boots on the floor. She sounds like her own stampede. You giggle, pressing your hands, still warm from holding Jordan’s into your face. You may be bad at signals but…

You sit under the hideous fluorescent kitchen lighting feeling like something inside you is glowing. You kick your feet, nervous, waiting for Jordan to get back. Wondering what they’ll do. What they’ll say. If you’re delusional. You have to be delusional. You have to be.

“Guard dog taking a walk?” In the doorway stands Andre, looking a little rougher than usual. His right eye is dark, like a black eye that’s started healing. There’s a small bandage over his nose.

“What happened to you?” You gasp.

“Your guard dog.” Andre says, reaching into the fridge to pull out a bottle of spicy vodka. “Jordan’s number #2 for a reason. Congrats on making #5 by the way.”

“Thanks.” You say. “When did Jordan do that?”

“A week ago. Would have probably gotten it earlier but apparently Cate talked them into waiting to see me until they were less pissed off. For which I’m eternally grateful.” He says, taking a sip straight from the bottle without chaser.

You don’t really know what to say so you sit in silence. Legs still kicking, more from anxiety now, less from giddiness.

“He gave me a busted lip too, but that healed pretty quickly. I also think he might have kicked a rib loose, been a little sore on the left side.” Andre says, he doesn’t seem to be angry but you don’t know why else he’d talk to you.

“I didn’t ask Jordan to do that. If you’re wondering.” You say, slowly.

“No! No! You’re way too sweet for that. This was just my shitty way of getting around to an apology. I’m sorry. I should’ve said sorry before Jordan kicked my ass but I promise Jordan kicking my ass isn’t why I’m saying sorry. The original plan was to ask you out again, make it up to you with dinner. Jordan just kicked my ass first.”

“I hope to god you’re not working your way around to asking me on a pity date.” You narrow your eyes at him.

“So Jordan could put me in a full body cast?” Andre laughs loudly, shocking you. “No offense, you’re really cute, but nothing’s worth that fucking beat down.”

“Well, I guess I accept your-”

“You don’t have to forgive me. Jordan was pretty clear that I tore up some old wounds. I didn’t mean to, but I’m sorry. I can just be… a dick, sometimes. Often. All the time.” Andre jokes.

“What did Jordan say exactly?” You ask nervously.

“Nothing specific! I could barely pick out anything at all, really. The sound of her fist breaking my nose was pretty loud.”

You laugh then try to cover it up by taking a sip. Andre grins and you relax, knowing it was his way of breaking the tension.

“Can I ask you something?” Andre asks suddenly.

“You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” You shrug.

“Fair enough.” Andre says, toying with the bottle. “Do you like Jordan?”

“What?”

“Because Jordan sure likes you.” Andre states.

“No, they don't.” It’s a reflex to deny the possibility of someone having feelings for you but the words feel wrong once you say them. Weren’t you just about to kiss? Wasn’t his hand just burning into your thigh like a brand? “Do they?”

“Jordan would never do a fraction of the shit they’ve been doing for you if they didn’t care about you.” Andre takes another sip, then moves to saunter from the kitchen. He stops, a glance over the shoulder. “However you feel, tell Jordan. And soon. They’re looking a little desperate.”

Then it’s just you and the sound of the party, and the cool marble you’re sitting on. And a lot to think about.

“Your incessant leg jiggling is distracting me from how and why they intend to turn this beautiful victorian home into another soulless open concept millennial nightmare.” Jordan says, glancing from the TV to your leg which, yes, has been jiggling for awhile.

“I’ve got a question.”

“Obviously.”

“How can you tell if a girl isn’t into you?”

Jordan turns to face you, eyebrows furrowed, “what?”

You feel heat flood your cheeks, but keep your eyes firmly glued to the screen. “Are the rules the same? Or different?”

“You like girls?” Jordan blurts out.

“What?” The question is enough to make you look at her. And now you're trapped by societal standards of politeness to maintain the most anxiety inducing eye contact you've ever shared.

“You've never talked about… you've never said anything about liking girls.”

“You only offered up the help for the one gender. Didn't wanna get greedy.” You force a laugh.

“How long have you…. have you always liked girls?” Jordan asks and you hope to God you're not hallucinating that quick glance at your lips.

“You follow me on Instagram!”

“What's that have to do with anything?”

“I literally have the pride flag in my bio?”

“I thought you were-”

“-Jordan Li, if you're about to tell me you thought I was an ally I'll beat you to death, and then jump off a cliff.”

Jordan laughs, ducking her head, hair falling into her face slightly. You dig your fingers into your thigh to stop yourself from reaching out and tucking it behind her ear.

“Is there a reason why you're asking… about how to tell when a girl isn't into you, all of a sudden?” Jordan looks up at you and the world narrows down to her brown eyes, and her nose, and her mouth. And the look in her eyes you hope you're not reading wrong.

You blink in confusion when amusement crosses over her face and for one awful second you think Jordan is laughing at you and you could throw up. But you realize you're suddenly looking at her from behind a force-field of light purple and feel queasy out of a different sense of embarrassment.

You can hear a smile in Jordan’s voice, but you refuse to unbury your face from your hands, “Never seen you not be able to control your powers before.”

“Please kill me.”

“Can't. Your forcefield is still up, princess.” She teases, tapping at the bubble.

With a groan of humiliation you drop your field and peek up at her through your fingers.

“First the forcefield, now the hands. Still haven't answered my question though.” You almost snip at her that she should take a wild guess at your answer but there's something about Jordan’s expression. It's teetering between playful, guarded, and… something else. And you have to bank on whatever that something else is.

You take a deep breath in and move in closer, “You're not so awful a teacher that the lessons for a guy didn't stick, but considering you're a girl too who knows what incredibly important lesson you didn't know you had to teach me. The lesson… the girl lesson, that would have stopped me from misinterpreting what's been happening here. If I’m misinterpreting. All I know is… all I can really be sure of, is how I feel. And I, well-” You bite your lip, taking a shaky breath, and Jordan moves in closer, “I'm about halfway to being in love with you.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before her lips are on yours. Her hand curls at the base of your neck, pulling you in closer. A brush of her tongue against your bottom lip before you let her in with a breathless sigh. She moans against your lips, other hand moving to your waist to tug you into her lap.

You lose your balance a little, fall into her in a way that is not at all seductive. You laugh, embarrassed and she chases the sound, using both hands to put you in her lap, holds you there firm and secure.

“You-” She kisses you, interrupting your sentence. “Haven’t-” Another kiss. “Told me-” She holds you tight this time, tilting her head to the side, sweeping her tongue against yours and gasping at your taste. You pull back with shaky hands, keeping her at a distance with a grip on her shoulders.

“Could we use our big girl words?” You ask, breathless and a little dizzy.

“I’ve fucking only been in love with you for two years, thanks for fucking noticing.” She huffs, exasperated and smiling.

“How on Earth was I supposed to interpret your seething stare of hate for being in love with me?” You’re already melting against her as she pulls you back in with the guiding grip on your hair.

“Shoulda looked harder, baby.” She coos, and doesn’t let you up again anytime soon.

A/N: my magnum opus of pining! if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

#bee talks #he's just not that into you #jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #gen v #black!reader #this fic is a fucking monster in word count but that's just what jordan li deserves

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luvbugs-blog · 1 year ago

Note

(( if requests are open rn/okay)

Getting caught with the boys, Hitoshi Shinsou version? xx

getting caught with the mha boys - part 3

featuring: hitoshi shinsou

a/n: aged up characters!

warnings: just a lil spicy dicey. spoilers for a grey's anatomy episode.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

midterms were exhausting. it was a friday afternoon, and you were trudging back to your dorm to rot in your bed for a little bit. you barely had any time for yourself this week, choosing to lock yourself in your room or the library to prepare for all the tests. the late nights took a toll on you, so when you finally fall into bed, you almost want to take a nap. but you choose to scroll on tik tok instead, occasionally giggling at a funny one before sending it to your boyfriend.

oh. shinsou! you haven't seen him at all this week, as his test schedule happened to be when your free time was, and vice versa.

you would go visit him after taking some time to recharge. eventually, you do end up falling asleep, not waking up until the morning, weirdly warm. you blink, extremely tired despite sleeping for 10+ hours and shift in bed before hitting something hard. you whip around, heart pounding, to see your boyfriend leaning up against the headboard, smiling at whatever video he was watching. he glances over at you, before sending you a cheeky smile.

"finally up, kitten?"

"you freak! what are you doing in here?"

"i have an extra key."

"oh yeah." he sets his phone to the side and smirks at you.

"i missed you."

"i know, i'm sorry babe." he scoots closer to you, putting his leg over your hip and drawing you into his chest.

"well, we have time now." you smile, holding him close, nudging your nose to his.

"yes we do."

you didn't. just as your lips touched, his phone buzzed. the two of you jumped and he glanced at his phone before groaning loudly.

"what is it?"

"extra training with aizawa." he looked at you and you grinned.

"go on you big, lazy baby. i'll be here when you're done." he tucked some hair behind your ear before rolling over the bed, heading to training so he could get back to you.

but now that he left, you were twitchy, moving around the bed, feeling a bit anxious for him to come back. he had gotten you in the mood and then left. prick. you straighten up your room, clean your bathroom, and then decide to start an episode of grey's anatomy. at this point, you were relaxed again, and the door cracked open just as meredith placed her hand on the live bazooka in the guy's chest. locked in, you barely noticed as shinsou throws his shoes off and goes to take a shower in your bathroom.

he comes out in a towel and starts to crawl over to you, positioning himself over you. you push him aside, much to his displeasure, to watch meredith shakily put the live bazooka in the bomb squad guy's hand.

when the kisses start up your neck, you whine.

"baby, wait. this is interesting."

"i'm interesting."

but when meredith exists the O.R. to see the bomb squad blown up, shinou sits up.

"whoa."

you smirk. "told you it's totally interesting."

the ending credits play and you finally turn your attention to him. when you start kissing him now, he pays no attention as the next episode started playing.

"shinsou."

"no you're right. this is interesting."

"ugh." he smiles, still looking at the tv, and puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. but you are not going to wait another 40 minutes. your hand trails down his abs (and damn, they are defined) to the hair that peeks out from the top of his towel.

no reaction.

your hand doesn't stop, lightly touching the bulge under the towel. he hisses and grabs your shoulder tighter.

"what are you doing?"

"asking for attention."

"you needy baby."

you throw your leg over his lap, now straddling him, hands reaching to move his hair out of his eyes. his eyes travel back to the tv, but you grab his chin and forced him to look at you.

"pay attention to me," you whine.

he smirks.

"make me."

you do. you smash your lips onto his, swallowing his groans. your hands move up his chest and one links in his hair while the other claws at his back. he kisses back with fervor, and to throw him off his game, you grind down on him. his head falls back onto the headboard, and you take the chance to start sucking on his neck.

his hand goes to your hair, pulling him back. his lips part, ready to say something, when a loud pounding on your door has the two of you quickly breaking apart.

"SHUT THE HELL UP."

the both of you groan, and shinsou shouts,

"way to kill the mood!"

you hear, "DON'T CARE," as he stomps back to his room and slams the door. you totally forgot his was your neighbor.

oops.

#hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x y/n #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinsou x female reader #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #shinso fluff #shinsou fluff #hitoshi shinsou fluff

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year ago

Text

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body.

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests.

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time.

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking?

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies.

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does).

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve.

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir.

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself.

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #slight buckingham because I said so #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #biggest of shoutouts to lex for giving us this space to create and share together!!!#is the sleep depravation making Eddie good at flirting???#or is it all in his overactive imagination???#the world may never know #also Eddie is wearing one of Robin's shirts bc he never does laundry #that's not relevant - it's just a brainworm that he ironically wears her marching band tees #okay okay pls enjoy 💖#(and pretend I'm in a timezone where it's still August pls)

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all-pacas · 1 month ago

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random and very specific chase headcanons i will insist on secretly working into all my stories:

chase and his sister don't look much alike. not in a "they're not related" way, just he takes after their mother and she takes after their dad, lookswise: there's not a deep symbolic meaning for this, they just… don't look alike.

chase never considered himself a Rich Kid growing up, because yes, the big huge house and dad's fancy cars, but he went to one of those very fancy private schools where like. his best friend's father owned oil fields. his friends had superyachts. he was the poor kid in that school, which in turn greatly skewed his own self perception of his family money.

the novelty did wear off but he enjoyed searching people's houses at first, because he'd get to creep on people's houses and belongings and learn about poor people and normal people hobbies and just observe. like an anthropologist. chase wants desperately to Be Normal and has the sinking suspicion he isn't, but also doesn't realize how boring he truly is. (he comes from a Mental Health Is For Other People family)

he has fucked men and he does consider himself heterosexual. his sexuality is a rotisserie chicken of repression and catholicism and "if i don't look at it it will go away." he knows what bisexuality is he just truly believes it doesn't apply.

the reason he worked NICU to earn extra money was a) he actually did kind of mean it when he said he needed a break, but for chase a break is overworking myself and not sleeping because then i simply have no energy to think, and also his sister needed money for rehab. again. and she was cut out of dad's will too.

they talk maybe once a year, but chase has a huge guilt complex about his sister and whenever she asks him for anything (money) he just throws it at her. to her credit, she has only done this once or twice ever. he actually wishes she'd do it more, because then she'd need him, and he could be useful to her (in a way that didn't involve talking to her).

he has a fairly high alcohol tolerance, but is also very good at coming off completely sober even when he's totally drunk, which makes it seem like he has a superhuman alcohol tolerance.

chase has very specific rules for himself and drinking, because children of alcoholics is a constant mantra in his head, but he does still drink. part of it is just a… cultural/social thing, part of it is absolute self flagellation. for a long time the rule was don't drink at home, never drink alone, but after his divorce he started to drink more - at home, alone, whatever - in a sort of rotating self flagellation sort of mess of: what if i did.

cameron was absolutely his first serious relationship.

he genuinely liked and was close with his priest, his teachers in catholic school, he has never had any brushes with Catholic Church scandals, it was the one place in his childhood chase genuinely did find adults who cared about him. however, he does not go to church as an adult. maybe once a year or if he's very, very stressed. it's almost more of a nostalgic thing than a prayer thing. he feels safe in church. he lights candles for his parents and dibala and tries to convince himself he believes in it.

he still believes in god and does absolutely believe he's going to hell. so why not enjoy his life and sleep around and do whatever while he's still alive, you know? enjoy the time you have left because all you can look forward to in death is eternal torment and suffering!!

he thinks, incorrectly, that he can do a pretty good american accent when he tries

#robert chase #house md headcanons #malpractice posting

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fbfh · 29 days ago

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you know what I'm thinking about?? beck oliver. yeah the one from victorious first of all FUCK YOU dan schneider and I'm specifically thinking about this clip from the episode where they try to make a reality show about their high school 0:31

I really hate that beck is one of those characters like lucas friar and tristin dugray where we simply do not get more clarity on them as a person. one of the few times we get to see beck really open up and talk about WHY he's so passionate about acting and it's immediately cut off and overshadowed by how he looks. dare I say he has elle woods syndrome. "beck and jade are toxic" "beck should date cat" "beck and robbie fuck" yeah yeah you know what he REALLY NEEDS????? he needs someone that does not give a single fuck about how he looks. he needs someone who prioritizes HIM instead of his hair. yes he's pretty and he has nice hair but those are all sprinkles. he needs somone who cares about the rest of the cupcake, not just the decorations. I think the reason he thinks he likes angry girls who yell and fight with him all the time is because when he and jade fight she's yelling at him about anything other than his hair. he needs a break from constantly being objectified is my point. you know what would be great?? beck dating a screenwriter. someone who works on the scripts for the hollywood arts shows they put on. someone who hunts him down in the halls looking like they rolled out of a dumpster with sikowitz and reeks of coffee because they've been up for 36 hours to meet their deadline and finish their homework.

you are just that. you do other stuff at hollywood arts too, but there's really not a lot of script writers there, so you've found a way to pretty much corner the market and it looks FANTASTIC on your student transcript, plus you get extra credit for it, which is even better. you're wearing a hoodie that looks like you slept in it for two days (true if you had slept at all) and you're not aware of the two or three empty jet brew cups shoved into your hoodie pocket, plus the extra one you're carrying that you're almost done with.

"Beck!"

you manage to startle him a little which is surprising because he is totally unscareable. he doesn't think you've ever exchanged two words before now, he doesn't even know if he knows your name.

"I need to talk to you," you pant, a little delerious from caffeine and sleep depravation and excitement. "I finished the script for the next play-"

Beck didn't realize that a student was writing any of the shows they put on, he thought they were all lisenced or from local writers.

"It's a dystopian retelling of frankenstein with- with cyberpunk influences," you ramble, "and I need to know if you're okay playing the lead." you pant, still trying to catch your breath and not lose your train of thought.

"some pretty fucked up stuff happens and you'd have to quickly lose your morals and go from morally gray to kind of antagonistic pretty quickly..." you look up at him and hand him a script full of sticky flags. "I wanna make sure there's nothing that'll make you too uncomfortable... like I said it gets pretty fucked up, but I wrote it with you in mind for the doctor, so- just, let me know what you think."

before he can answer, you trudge into the janitor's closet and fall asleep on top of a pile of paper towels.

Beck takes the script home to look over, and he's genuinely surprised for a number of reasons. he expected to be typecast as the love interest yet again, but you want him as the antagonistic lead. it's a really complex role, and has absolutley nothing to do with how he looks. you even left a sticky note in there by accident, and he reads your scribbled handwriting. doc MUST be smwn who fully commits and dgaf if it makes them look bad or silly or unattractive. if they get self consious it ruins the char

underneith are two or three names scribbled out, then his, underlined several times. he is so genuinely shocked by this decision, and absolutely fascenated by your script. he's actually getting really excited to play a role that will challenge him for once.

the next day he meets you with the script tucked under one arm and a coffee in each hand. he hands one to you, and you thank him with a pleasantly surprised smile.

"You seem like you could use it."

"That's putting it mildly..." you mutter in agreement, and he bites back a chuckle when you remove the lid and down half the cup at once. You look at him anxiously after that, and your eyes flit between him and your script. "So... what did you think?"

"I... accept." relief floods through you. "I've already been thinking about my character and going over my lines. But why did you want me for Victor?"

You shrug a little.

"Well, you got the script like, 12 hours ago and you're already developing your portrayal of him, so that's a pretty good reason there," you chuckle, "and I... I hope this doesn't sound mean, but I don't think there are a lot of other people here who could pull off such a complex antagonistic main character."

you state, taking another sip of coffee.

"Everyone here is great, really-" you emphasize, hoping you don't sound like a dick. "I just feel like no one else could really bring the depth to him that you could. He's a horrible person, but I still want the audience to sympathize with him at times, and go wow he's a fucked up asshole at others without making it feel disjointed. I think you're really the only one who has the skills to pull that off."

honestly, if Beck had slightly less self control he would have started wailing and sobbing right then. Instead, he's determined to live up to your expectations and prove to you that your faith in him will pay off. You work pretty closley with production of the show, and with Beck. after closing night, you and Beck are still pretty close, to your pleasant surprise. his friends are a little curious why Beck suddenly is spending all his free time with one of those kids in their class who never talks or says anything, but he seems... happy. he did in fact fall first, and he definitely fell harder. he falls even more when months pass and he realizes you are still too adorably oblivious to realize how he feels.

#drabbles #beck oliver #beck oliver x reader #beck oliver drabbles #victorious #victorious x reader #victorious drabbles #LET BECK BE HAPPY #LET HIM BE SEEN #BECK NEEDS TO DATE SOMEONE ON THE ACE SPECTRUM TBH #beck with an ace and or aro s/o who when asked why they like him you're like “I just think he's neat! :)”#you have never once thrown yourself at him and he has never once wanted anyone so bad #your dynamic is literally “wow that sex was poggers lemme go back to explaining the fnaf lore”#and he's like yes #you are the first person to surprise him this much #beck unfortunately is bored and understimulated a lot #he's grateful for all the opportunities he's been given ofc #but deep down he yearns for more #not for materialistic “I wanna be famous” reasons #he just wants to feel something #and good GOD do you check that box several times over

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stariekis · 8 months ago

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love novels.

pairing : non idol! jungwon + librarian!reader . genre : fluff . cw : none ! let me know if i should add smt . wc : 2.6k not proofread

— synopsis : who said that you can't live those things you always read in your romance novels ?

— note : long ass hiatus damn ... sorry for being so inactive babies but i've been pretty busy with uni and resting too ngl but i promise i'll repay u🤞🏻 <3 n e wayyys here u have a lil woni one shot :D hope u guys enjoy it! all kinds of feedback and reposts are always appreciated as u know 🤲🏻⭐

This new semester you decided on working for your college's library. You loved reading and you go there pretty frequently so you thought that this was the perfect job for you and you can also have some extra credits

The first days there you notice a particular student entering the library at the same time every day, five o'clock to be precise. At firts you didn't pay much attention to him, he was like every other students after all.

But as the time passes by you find yourself looking for him every afternoon, hoping to see him again at the same time.

He was pretty - a pretty handsome guy to be fair - so it was obvious that he would eventually catch your attention. He also has a unique and calm aura, making him more interesting to you.

This is how we ended up in this exact day. The day was pretty boring, not many people entered the library and you spent most of your shift seating behind the desk and organizing the shelfs.

The sound of the door opening caught you attention. It was him, the boy with pretty eyes. Looking at the clock you smiled, five o'clock, right on time.

He, as usual, when straight up to the 'romance novel' shelft. You wanted to talk to him so bad, but how he will react if you just approached him out of the blue ?. So, when you saw him grabbing one of your favorite books you knew you couldn't let this opportunity slide away.

— 'That's one of my favorites books' you said, standing behind his back. He turned around as soon as he heard your voice, smiling at you. He was tall, his frame almost towering you, and he was even prettier up close.

— 'Really? i didn't know that you were into this type of books' actually he knew it perfectly, he saw the same exact book on you desk the other day that's why he choose it.

You didn't notice but since the first time he entered the library he was enchanted by you. Images of you behind your desk with your glasses on and you hair up in a messy bun keep repeating on his mind since that day, he then started frequenting your workplace more.

— 'I actually love romance novels but this one is amazing really, the characters are so well written that you empathize a lot with them and the plot is like strangers to loves and-' you looked at him for the first time and you were shocked to say the least when you found him looking directly at you, totally hypnotized while listening to you. — 'I talk too much don't i?' you look at you feets trying to avoid his gaze.

Jungwon giggled, putting on of his hand under your chin and lifting your face until your eyes met again. You almost melt under his touch. — 'Not at all, i love hearing you talk' he said almost whispering, you didn't realize how closr both of you eere until he backed up a bit.

He handled you the book — 'Sadly I have to go now i have some things to do but i will come back to rent this book okey?'. You nodded, you were completely out of words and your heart was beating fastly. — 'See you around pretty librarian'.

Then he made his way towards the door and, before closing it, he gave your the sweetest smile ever showing his pretty dimple.

You stood there with the book in your hands. When you were about to put it back on the shelf you saw a piece of paper sticking out tje side.

You picked it up and opened it. You put your back against the shelf and slid down until you were sitting on the floor smiling at the note.

i've always wanted to talk to you so, if you want too, text me :)

+ xxx xx xx xx

pd. you are really pretty btw <3

att. jungwon

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h0nkytonkangels · 5 months ago

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Almost every Maxis hair replaced with Pooklet textures + my selection of colors.

(I'm not going to show you the entire catalog of every hair. Read below for the ones that aren't included.)

So I'm enduring the massive, totally unnecessary undertaking of creating my own color palette for all my hairs. This is not a hair system per se, just Pooklet and Io textures in my own personal favorite colors. I have no idea who else would find these useful, but I like uploading stuff I make just in case it saves the time of one person out there. Anyways, there are going to be three natural families, but only one family for defaults:

Black: Pooklet's Dynamite

Brown: The Raven's Chocolate

Blonde: Pooklet's Volatile

Red: Io's Copper

Gray: Almighty Hat's Smoke Bomb

When thinking about how I was going to do all this, I decided against simply recoloring my previous defaults, because I want a lot of those hairs in multiple color families. SO, I decided to recolor Maxis hairs in my default palette. I actually like a lot of these meshes, and their low polygons make up for me being extra and using sexy feet and smooth hands.

Here's some of the defaults pictured on sims:

For textures, I used Aquilegia's textures for the base game non-hat hairs, Ja's textures for University through Mansion and Garden, Katsurin's textures for some of the hats, and made my own textures for some of the other hats using existing .packages from Maxboy at MTS. The files clearly state the source of all the textures.

I didn't do every single hair. At a certain point (that point being when I ran out of other people's textures to recolor and had to start retexturing things myself), I kinda tapped out and accepted just hiding/using other defaults for the hairs I hadn't done.

For example, I didn't do any of the holiday hairs because I will never use them, the base game hairs Aquilegia chose to hide, and a few of the hat hairs. I might make a completer set at a later date, but don't count on it. I'll probably get distracted by another project by then.

Everything is compressorized, files are renamed so there's no special characters, and everything should be pretty clearly labelled if you want to pick and choose. Do note that the EP/SP hairs as merged, whereas the base game ones aren't.

Download at SFS

Credit: @Pooklet, @serabiet, @katsurinssims, Aquilegia, Ja, and Maxboy

#sims 2 #s2cc #mycc #sims 2 download #the sims 2 download #sims 2 cc #bodyshop #sims 2 default #sims 2 hair default #dl: hair #dl: default #dl: hair default

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xaviers-student-union · 2 months ago

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Hey guys it's that time of the month

That's right, the time of the month where I take my dad's credit card and buy you guys whatever you ask for. [ so long as its not illegal.]

As usual:

- The money isn't traceable by my father

- This won't have legal ramifications, it's money he gave to me

- He's an Anti-Mutant Billionare running for a political office or some shit. So every month everyone in the X-mansion, and anyone else who sees this, can place orders from me. I like wasting his money.

- For every dollar I spend, I match it and donate to a Mutant positive charity.

So far:

- Aranza: New paint supplies, an easel, and other tools [ she didn't ask but I'm doing it anyway] and Hedgehog care supplies

- Deanne: New jewellery, medical textbooks, sports equipment, and a new laptop

- Molly: New fairytale books, 150 Jellycats, Club room materials, a megaphone, winter clothes, Halloween decorations, a clipboard, Polaroid camera, and an inflatable hamster ball.

She also requested silly string but I have veto'ed that.

- Megan: new book bag, stationary, sanrio "stuff", wing warmers

- Sativa: Beads, wing warmers, new dresses, accessories

- Reaper- Skateboard and cat toys

- Nod - Office decor, $100 donation

- Pyxis - New mountain bike, New winter coat, $50 donation

- Scott- Wood carving supplies, 50 cases of waterbottles, and top of the line New kitchen utensils.

- Mihai - Ps5, and a new laptop

- Kurt - Repair the trapeze. While I'm at it I'm going to get new equipment for the gymnasium in general.

- Rogue - Cat toys [ according to Google that's the best thing for a gator] and new romance novels.

- Negasonic Teenage Warhead : 2x giant 12 ft tall skeletons, costumes for the skeletons , a giant kuromi plush

- Yukio: several pieces of limitied sanrio merch, giant hello kitty plush.

- Eel: Luxury Yacht + hoverboard wheelchair

- Logan - New motorcycle + a helmet. Get fucked logan.

- Forget-me-not - New baking supplies, and equipment.

Lina- New bass strings, and a donation of 100k [ she didn't ask for this but I decided I wanted to donate extra in her name]

Emma - New lipstick in her favourite shade

- laurya- a bunch of cool rocks [ @goddess-of-birds ]

Phantom - Broadway year pass, compression gloves [ @phantom-x ]

Valentine - Designer outfitt [ @valentine-vuong ]

Vanessa - 50 sets of winter clothes for kids, and a large donation to the chosen charity.

Tagging relevant people [ let me know if you don't want to be tagged]

@jeangrey-xmen

@roguefromthexmen

@remy-lebeau

@wolverineofficial

@deadpoolsmeanestally

@dead-in-the-pool

@professorcharlesx

@scottsummers-xmen

@hankmccoyhere

@reapers-graveyard

@totally-not-a-mutant

@vanessa-howlett

@pyxis-deliveryservices

@a-trip-and-a-fall

@thebesttelepath

@forgotten-x-men

@just-a-mutant

@prettyplasma8

@blue-man-group-reject

@queenofthetempest

There's...so many people to tag so I'm going to stop here. If I missed you it wasn't intentional.. - J.🕯

[ no limit on price as long as its reasonable]

#mutantblr #mutanttumblr #mutant tumblr #mutant rp #xmen rp #mutant powers #xaviers student union #mutant power #jasper speaks #jaspers monthly spending spree

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petermorwood · 1 year ago

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Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)

Long ago, @dduane and I had a Whirlpool combi microwave - micro, grill, fan oven - and It Was Great, big enough to use as a proper oven when what needed cooked in a proper oven was small enough that powering up the big proper oven in the cooker was a bit much.

Still with me...?

IIRC it was one of those Christmas presents where Mum, ever-practical, told us; "get yourselves something really useful but not too expensive (I did say practical!) and I'll go halves."

In 2016, after something like 15 years of pretty-well daily use for one thing and another, the old thing expired by stages, micro first, grill second, oven last - it made great bread up until the end - and went to recycling heaven.

*****

We couldn't find a one-for-one replacement (we needed a free-standing counter-top appliance, everyone was selling built-in), so until once was available (optimism) we bought an ordinary microwave.

NB, this and its successors were only used for ordinary microwave things like reheating, defrosting and dealing with freeze-cook stuff. They got nothing like the amount of use of the old combi, mostly because of being incapable of doing a lot of it. As things turned out, this didn't help much.

About eighteen months later, we had to buy another. If a microwave's enamel interior develops a crack (to this day I don't know how), moisture gets in, rust begins and the enamel pulls off the bare metal. That's when you get "sparking".

This demo is deliberate; believe me, when it's unexpected it's even worse.

youtube

A private welder show or lightning storm at the end of the kitchen counter when all you want is a hot cuppa is distinctly unsettling. Also, it's only going to get worse, and we could imagine - boy, could we - what "Much Worse" might look like.

To the recycle dump!

(NB, micros with stainless steel interiors don't seem to do this, probably because they're already tuned to deal with the bare metal.)

The replacement, another ordinary micro, Just Up And Died after eighteen months and, guess what, the quote for a check-up and replacements-if-required was as much as the price of a new one.

(Inkjet printers seem to operate on this principal too.)

To the recycle dump again!

We got a third new one (which BTW is still running just fine, because it's been downgraded to Extra, read on), totalled up what we'd spent on ordinary microwaves, said a few well-chosen words about planned obsolescence and the "Vimes 'Boots' Theory of Economic Inequality" and got ourselves a pre-pay credit card whose top-ups were dedicated to Get A Combi Again.

We didn't bother with GACA baseball caps.

That would have been silly.

I don't know if these cards exist in the USA; we treat them as the modern version of a piggy-bank...

...except that to get at the money you need two people acting in accord.

*****

And in 2021 we got one.

Okay, this next bit is going to read like an ad.

It isn't, because the appliance is discontinued. (Whirlpool FINALLY do something similar but not identical.) It's just enthusiastic users discovering there's even more to a gadget than expected.

*****

The New One even bigger than the old one, which had 28 litres capacity; the new one was 33 L (was .99 ft³, is now 1.16 ft³). In non-tech terms, wow, More Room To Cook In.

Reading the figures was no help (to me, anyway) in visualising what a maw the thing had, but opening the door did that and no mistake.

I said something to DD about "bite radius"...

...and she instantly responded with "anyway, we delivered the bomb".

We're a quotesy household. ;->

BTW, The New One does a very good job on seafood, too...

*****

Since we got this, almost exactly two years ago, we've used it from reheating tea to roasting meat to making chilli / goulash / stew / curry (you can run the oven / grill separately or add simultaneous zaps of microwave for much less cooking time) to baking bread.

One of the best things about it is that when the set cooking time is done, the appliance switches off automatically. No risk of busyness, absent-mindedness or out-in-the-garden-ness ending in clouds of smoke, ruined food and possibly even worse.

As for breadmaking, it has a dough-rise setting which is a Time Machine, reducing a two-hour "doubled in size" rise time to about 35-45 minutes...

It also has the most reliable Defrost Butter setting either of us have ever encountered, turning a rock-solid butter brick from the freezer into something spreadable while never - to date - doing the "never mind a butter-knife, give me a spoon or a paintbrush" thing.

*****

However...

There's also a "Chef Setting" where there are some simple recipes. Here's the pastry page.

Basically, you assemble and mix the ingredients, input the correct settings and the machine does all the timing, heating and cooking.

We'd never used this until yesterday, when DD said, "Let's try the sponge cake..."

Yes, this post was entitled "Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)..." and here we are...

We did all the measuring correctly and checked it by pouring the mixture into a baking container while on the scale, wondering betimes why the recipe says 900g, the ingredients total 925 and what actually poured into the container reads 906... Weird. Really weird.

Then we put the container into the oven, entered the correct code, and let things do what they were going to do.

A little later we discovered something else about the recipe besides a weight anomaly.

It didn't mention the required size of the container. Or or how much the mixture was likely to rise.

It rose...

Let's say more than we expected...

The fluted ceramic container used for baking this one makes it look like a Vesuvius cupcake; not quite a pyroclastic flow, but a lot of flow regardless.

Once it cooled we separated the sponge-cake from the escaped sponge in the same way as sculptors work with wood or marble - "Chip away everything that doesn't look like a cake" - and found that despite its misshapen looks, it tasted pretty good.

So today DD made another, this time using a larger container.

...and this time it stayed put until removed using the cunning base-and-lifting-straps of baking parchment.

It's not the loftiest or best-risen sponge cake either of us have ever seen (a smaller-diameter higher-sided container would probably deal with that) BUT if there's something needing sponge cake in a hurry - this went from cupboard ingredients to done and cooling in less than 55 minutes - that treatment seems to fit the bill.

We're now wondering what other secrets lurk in the simple recipe pages; falafel, quiche Lorraine, stuffed peppers, even Flammkuchen* from scratch.

(*Though I have my own views about Flammkuchen, mostly involving a plane flight...)

And we'll be paying a lot more attention to what size of dish we put them in. :->

#food and drink #kitchen appliances #combi microwaves #sponge cake #anecdotage #GNU Terry Pratchett #Youtube

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scarletwinterxx · 3 months ago

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i might just love you 'til the end - joshua hong imagine

i admit this is very self indulgent, it's my bday and i wanted to write this so here we are🥺🥺😅

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

A cold bed is not something you expected you'd wake up to on the morning of your birthday. Usually you'd wake up with your boyfriend's arms wrapped around you like your own personal weighted blanket but that wasn't the case today thus prompting you to get up and go look around the house for the said missing boyfriend.

Thinking he might've went to the gym so you didn't expect to see him until later but then you hear some noises coming from the kitchen and some music playing.

Making your way downstairs and to the kitchen, you see Joshua standing with his back to you while holding a spatula in one hand. Too lost in his own world, humming along the tune of Sunday Morning playing in the background.

You smile as you walk towards him, catching him off guard when he suddenly feel a pair of arms hug him from behind.

"Hey, you. You're up early" he says, looking around to catch a glimpse of you

You cuddle against his back, seeking the warmth you missed this morning. He lets you be, knowing how clingy you get when you're sleepy. He doesn't mind it one bit when you sleep on him or fall alseep when you're with him. To him it's an honor, knowing you feel safe around him to fall asleep quickly after you told him you used to struggle with that before meeting him.

Feeling content with the quiet surrounding, he gently sways back and forth as he finishes the stack of pancakes with you still clinging to him.

"You weren't there so I woke up" you mumbled after a while, earning a chuckle from him

"Sorry, I wanted to make us breakfast. I was going to take it up to you but since you're already here, let me set up the table after I finish with the pancakes"

"I'll do it, you finish here" you tell him, giving him a final squeeze before separating from him. Before you can walk away, he grabs you by the arm making you crash back into his awaiting arms

He looks down at you with a smile, eyes locking with your eyes "Happy birthday, my darling"

You grin at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him on the lips "Thank you, baby"

"Oh and I got you flowers, that's not my main gift I'll give that later but I hope you like them" he says as he grab the bouquet from the table to pass it to you

"Josh, these are so pretty" you coo at him, "Thank, baby. Really. You don't have to get me anything but I appreciate all the effort, you really do know how to make this day extra special"

"How can I not when my most favorite person is born today. I'm just so happy to be celebrating this day with you"

You put the flowers down to give him another hug, Joshua does the same. Wrapping his arms around you, lifting you off the ground. He can hear your giggles, the sound making all the butterflies erupt in his stomach. He really truly is deeply in love with you.

"You're my favorite person too. I'm so thankful for you" you tell him

He gives your cheeks and your nose kisses before kissing you on the lips, smiling as he takes your breath away like he always does whenever he kisses you.

"Tell me what you want, name it. Anything"

"Really? Anything?"

"Mhm, what do you have in mind?" he asks, noticing the cheeky look in your eyes

"If I say I want to celebrate all of my birthdays like this, us in our kitchen cooking breakfast"

He looks at you, your future together already unfolding in his mind. Of course there's no one else he can imagine spending the rest of his life with but you.

He leans down, capturing your lips once again before answering you

"Consider it done, I'm yours forever my darling"

You smile hearing him say the word forever. For him, you'd believe it actually exists. You'd use all your birthday wishes just to make sure you're going to stay right where you are right now.

"Get ready for a whole day of romantic gestures and all out cheesiness because I'm only getting started" he jokes, putting you down before getting back to cooking

"Wouldn't celebrate this day any other way"

#fic #fanfic #svt #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenario #seventeen joshua #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #svt imagine #svt fic #svt scenario #joshua hong #svt joshua #joshua hong imagine #svt joshua x reader

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beatrixstonehill2 · 10 months ago

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"Thank you so much for taking me to your lovely home, Mr. Schultz! It's so nice to see you! I had a feeling if I worked my hometown I might run into a few familiar faces...."

"The pleasure's all mine, Josie. Look at you! My, my, last I saw you, you were a skinny, nerdy girl who could barely land a date. I almost didn't recognize you strutting up and down my block, flagging men down for money to take a spin with that big, sexy pregnant body of yours."

"Awww, thank you! I'm glad you like pregnant girls! But I actually don't get paid."

"Oh, just providing some community service? My niece is about your age and she volunteers herself at the homeless shelter downtown."

"Mmmm, good for her! I'm actually working on my thesis. I guess you could say...."

"Oh? This I've got to hear."

"Well, I'm a Sexual Health Major and I'm trying to get my Master's. As soon as I started college they told me about my assignment. It's so time consuming it's almost all I do for college...."

"Does your college have you out working the streets, getting that belly pumped full of kids for the sake of experience, or is it more of a written project you need the experience for?"

"Both, kind of. I'm to fuck twelve new men a day. Every day, until I graduate. No exceptions. That's eighty-four men a week. Three hundred thirty-six men a month, at least. Over four thousand a year."

"That's quite a daunting amount of work. You have to catalogue them?"

"Yep! Get their names, or a pseudonym, their cock length, time they lasted, the positions they tried on me, what got them off the most, and summarize my findings about guys' sexual performance. I'm supposed to write an essay about it and share it with the university in a couple years."

"My oh my, seems you've been at this a while then. Already over ten thousand guys who fucked that curvy body of yours?"

"Yep! Closer to twenty thousand, at this point."

"And what wisdom can you share? You must be so experienced, darling...."

"Well, most guys are total perverts, but they won't just come out and say it. They're all porn addicts. The second one gets limp fucking my juicy, swollen pussy I have to roll my eyes, reminding them to fuck my ass instead to emulate the grip they use on their own cock. Then when they're about to cum take that dirty cock out of my ass and cram it in my pussy, cum inside it, and piss in it too, cause that's really all a girl's pussy is good for. Not getting men off, just a filthy toilet to do your business in and get out. Wipe your cock off my my labia. I'll lick the guys clean if there's any mess left....."

"Wow, and that works for almost every guy?"

"Well, most. Some like to fuck me doggystyle, others like me to ride them. But lots of guys have their own quirks. If it's an older guy I'll ask if they have a daughter my age, and if so to use her name as picture that I'm her as we fuck and that works every time. If the guy's my age I ask if they have a sister. Same deal. Oh, and other guys if they still have trouble getting all the way to an orgasm I tend to assume they must be into really extreme porn. So I just tell them to start beating me up. Punch my belly, my boobs, strangle me, give me a black eye. And boom, the second they start going to town beating on me they cum like crazy."

"Sounds like you must get that sexy body of yours beaten to a pulp fairly regularly, if my experience with the newer generations of men are anything to go by."

"Ohhh, you bet! But I'm a good girl, I get used to it. I just sit there writing about what gets them off in my little notebooks and I encourage them to keep escalating their aggression until it's enough for them to cum."

"Such a perfect student. I hope they're giving you extra credit for all the brutality..... and STDs, I'd wager."

"Nope, it's just considered part of the project! I have pretty much every std you can imagine, my pussy is so swollen and red from all of them it's starting to look like a balloon. And I'm sure having it treated like a toilet isn't helping either, but oh well. In my opinion, this is what a girl's sex is supposed to look like."

"I take it I won't be at risk of contracting anything with you?"

"Not at all, silly! My college gives me an unlimited prescription for the male-only std-prevention pills."

"Shame they don't make one for girls like you."

"Why? My pussy should be super swollen, red, irritated, and deformed from all the wonderful STDs men give me! Like I said, that's what a girl's pussy is there for..... Plus, the government would never fund an anti-std pill for girls!"

"Ah, good point, dear.... So, enough chatter, I guess I'll be the next entry into your notebook. Hope you enjoy yourself."

"I always do. And even if you don't really want to you can try out hitting me while we fuck, you'd be surprised how fun it is!"

"I think I just might, sweetheart.... Seeing you like this makes me feel like I'd be letting you down if I didn't."

Josie bit her lip. "That's good to hear. Do whatever you want to me, it's what my body's for.❤️"

#pregnant kink #preggo kink #preggophilia #extreme kink #dark kinks #free use kink #bug chasing kink

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spittingbloodandscreaming · 4 months ago

Note

Vampire!Cis Male Reader x Vampire Obsessed!Gerard Way and can he like be all pathetically horny and just super down bad for the reader. Maybe some humping + reader biting and feeding from Gerard? thanks.

p.s. this part's totally optional but can u do like dick size difference as well? like Reader cuz he's a vampire has a huge dick but Gerard has a bit of a smaller 1 and maybe do some degrading based off that if u do it?

@pinkfor3stt merry Christmas. You didn't get everything you wanted but yk I do your dishes so I think you're fine

Bound to Happen Eventually (Gerard Way x Male Vampire Reader smut)

The TV is bright in the dark living room, flickering colors across the two of you on the couch. Gerard whines, starting up his fit again. “C'monn.” He's practically wrapped around you. He has your leg between his thighs, hugging you from the side so tight your ribs might crack. You pry his head away from you.

“No, I'm not letting you do that. Weirdo.” Gerard has been begging you to, please, just once, feed off of him. It's dangerous. It's weird. He's your boyfriend, he's a partner, he is not food. You will not put him down to that level. That's terrible, that's disrespectful. It's—

“It's hot,” Gerard grabs your shirt, looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. God, he's like a toddler. Similarly, he does not give up when he wants something. Gerard has been bothering you about this for the entirety of the movie the two of you have been watching. Really though, you’ve been trying to watch the film and Gerard has been trying to get in your pants. Your ‘vamp-pants’ as he has begun to call them.

Finally, the credits roll on the screen and you are unsatisfied. “C’mon dude, I have zero clue what happened that whole movie because of your… shenanigans.” You huff, rolling your eyes and turning off the TV, encapsulating the area in darkness, before moving to turn on the lamp next to the couch. The bulb is delayed turning on, but eventually, after a few off and ons, illuminates. When the room is lit again, Gerard lets go of you and shifts up on the couch. Sitting up properly, he puts his arm over your shoulder.

“You’re beautiful y’know, looking extra… gray today.” Gerard bats his eyelashes, supposedly to seduce you, but it just makes him look like someone unexpectedly maced him. “Have you eaten recently?” Gerard says with a sly smile—he thinks that was the smoothest thing anyone has ever said. It was, instead, mildly insulting. Before you can do anything more than scoff and roll your eyes, the lightbulb in the lamp flickers for the last time before dying, blacking out the living room.

“God dammit,” you mutter. That was the last lightbulb, and the one in the ceiling light has been out for weeks. You knew you shouldn’t have put off buying another pack until they were on sale. Gerard slides his arm off of your shoulder and onto your thigh, you feel him leaning closer to you, laying his head on your shoulder. You sigh, going limp against the couch. Realistically, the lack of light does not affect you, but you are no less defeated.

Gerard rubs your thigh, turning towards you and grabbing your face with his other hand. He gently rubs your cheek with his thumb, leaning in for a kiss to which you happily oblige. As the kiss ends, Gerard is the first to pull away. He swings his legs up onto the couch, folding them to the side. The hand he has on your face falls to your shoulder. “Y’know, if there’s nothing else to do—” You interrupt Gerard, taking his hand from your shoulder with yours.

“We can always, y’know, go to bed.” You bring his hand, palm up, to your lips, kissing right on the pulse of his wrist. He smells like raw meat and old, sticky soda. Gerard snickers, he might as well be kicking his legs and twirling his hair.

“I was gonna say we could fool around a bit, since it’s only, what, nine?”

“Babe it’s two A.M.,” you quirk a confused eyebrow—not that it matters—even with the curtains drawn, there's barely enough light in the room to make out the outline of the couch. You, though, can see the whole of Gerard's flushed and impatient expression. You let the hand holding his fall to your lap.

“Well, I’m not tired. And I know you aren’t.” You push a scruffy chunk of hair behind his ear, pitying his desparateness. Gerard shifts, swinging his legs over your lap and falling back onto the couch all in one swift movement. He throws a hand against his forehead and sighs dramatically. You laugh, and while you aren’t particularly enjoying his performance, you can’t say you aren’t at least a little amused. He dramatically sighs again as you lift his legs off of yours, but your attempt to stand is interrupted by Gerard whining.

“Where are you going?” He sits up, leaning against the arm of the couch and tucking his knees to his chest.

“To get a drink, which I assume I’m allowed to do as someone with free will?” You stand, taking a second to stretch after sitting for two hours.

“Why would you need to get up to do that?” Gerard asks, his wide eyes are a bright contrast to the dark of the living room around the two of you. You roll your eyes, a painfully obvious setup, but you let it happen nonetheless. “I mean, I’m right here.” Gerard gestures to himself like he’s some fancy display car, and as bad as his pickup line was you can’t help but laugh.

“Oh my, I think you’re correct, your pure, virgin blood has to be better than even the finest of tap water we have here, right?” Still laughing, you play into the bit more by pouncing on him, grabbing a sturdy mouthful of t-shirt near his shoulder. Gerard laughs, rolling the two of you onto the floor with a thud. Gerard is on top of you, straddling your hips for just a second before you push the both of you back over. You’re on top of him, shaking your head back and forth like a dog playing tug-a-war. Gerard’s laugh fizzles out into heavy breathing—right as you look up to check in with him, he shoves his thumbs into the corners of your mouth, using it as leverage to pry your mouth open. The two of you are so close that even in the dark he can make out most of the details of what he’s seeing, and he just stares.

“Woah..” You wonder what he could find so fascinating about your mouth, but then you feel it. Running your tongue over your teeth, you learn that your fangs must’ve popped during your play fight. You don’t think Gerard has ever seen you like that. Not with your knowledge, anyway. At the beginning of your relationship, he was trying especially hard to watch you drink things. Gerard slowly takes his hands out of your mouth, moving to push himself, and due to your position, you, up. Gerard sits on his knees, and you’re cross-legged not a foot away from him. You can’t close your mouth properly with your fangs out, and you aren’t the best at making them revert. In turn, you're left staring at Gerard with your mouth open awkwardly, forced into bearing your teeth like a middle schooler with headgear.

While you aren’t in your comfort zone, Gerard seems to be thriving. He has his hand on both sides of your head, looking at you up close. He shifts the angle of your head a few times to see if there's any way to catch the light on your teeth better. If he could put you under a microscope, he would. Being this close to you in this state is utterly exhilarating for him. This alone, he thinks, is better than sex.

Wait. You’re his boyfriend. For a second he had forgotten that, along with being a vampire, being in front of him, and having your tubular teeth out, you are his boyfriend. It’s that realization that prompts him to pull your face down to his and kiss you rather aggressively. He takes it upon himself to shove his tongue into your mouth, and you can’t do much more than let him. Most of your attention is going into making sure Gerard doesn’t end up cutting himself on any of your teeth. But even a perfectly paved road can still lead to hell. However, this road wasn’t exactly perfectly paved. This was bound to happen. Gerard, being seemingly deliberate, slices his tongue open on one of your elongated canines. Gerard abruptly pulls away, putting his hand to his mouth to inspect the damage like he didn’t think cutting himself would hurt. For you though, the switch has already flipped like throwing a brick on a hair trigger.

Twilight may have been wrong about the disco ball skin and the porcelain-sounding kisses, but they were right about self-control being learned. You just hadn’t exactly been in many situations where restraint on this level was necessary, and Gerard has sufficiently gained a huge strobing target. Whatever morals you had about not ‘bringing him down to that level’ were most certainly gone the second you tasted his blood. When you look up at Gerard, he’s wide-eyed with a mouth full of blood. You move faster than you knew your body was able to, grabbing him by both of his cheeks and crashing your mouth into his, not stopping to process anything past the extended taste of blood, his blood, in your mouth.

Gerard was right, you were hungry. You were starved. And now you were the one with your tongue down his throat, grabbing at his hair and squeezing his hips. It's exhilarating, to now be able to say that you've had every part of him, the essence of his being. Your mouth is full—full of teeth, full of his blood, but it's not enough. You need more of him. You need to be able to have every tangible piece of him. The only thing that pulls you out of your trance-like state is Gerard pulling his new patented move; slotting his thumbs into the sides of your mouth like a horse bit and pushing you away. He’s huffing, his blood smeared all over his face. He moves to hold your head in place like a normal person. Gerard leans up and kisses you, brushing a stray hair out of your face as he pulls away. He’s gorgeous—ethereal, even. There’s so much soul behind his eyes, and you’re glad you can experience being with him. He lets go of your face, lowering his hands to help you out of your pants.

Gerard is in love with you, wholly and completely. You’re gorgeous to him, the most handsome man he’s ever seen. Being undressed by your hands is a privilege he’s honored to be graced with. He's never loved you more, even with shaky hands and dark eyes. Vulnerability is beautiful on you, and he’s glad he’s the one who gets to see it.

With Gerard naked beneath you, you realize that maybe the blood thing should be more regular. Gerard is clearly enjoying himself, his cock is hard and throbbing, dripping precum. From a less heartfelt perspective, he was right, this is hot as hell. You’re sure his tongue is still bleeding, too, since there’s a steady stream of blood dripping down his chin and tailing down his neck. It's making his hair sticky. Both of you will need a shower after this.

You grab the base of Gerard’s dick, languidly dragging your hand up his shaft as you give him another drool-soaked kiss. He’s panting into your mouth already—the little stimulation you’re providing him being amplified by the lengthy delay of the gratification. Gerard snakes his hand into your hair, grabbing a handful at the back of your head. He jerks his hips up, fucking himself further into your hand. You pull away from the kiss to scold him, but before you open your mouth to talk Gerard shoves your face into his neck. Your interrupted complaint turns into a muffled groan. His scent is so heavy, so strong it’s borderline intoxicating.

You lick a wet line up from Gerard’s collarbone to the base of his jaw and after a few gentle kisses, he tugs your hair roughly. “God, was dry-humping me not foreplay enough? Just fuck me already!” Gerard tightens his grip on your hair, throwing his other arm around your waist. It’d be criminal to refuse such a kind request. You smile against his neck, lining yourself up. There’s enough accumulated bodily fluids to make your entrance easy enough, but Gerard still squeals as you bottom out. He’s drooling before you even set the pace. You try to start slow and ease Gerard into it, but when he yanks your head back and starts bossing you around, you can tell that’s not what he wants. You lift him a few inches off the floor, holding him flush against you with your arms against his waist.

Having Gerard pressed up to you gives you the leverage to really fuck into him. He’s gone braindead now, his eyes rolling back into his head and bloody spit dripping down his cheek. If you could think straight you’d be worried for your neighbors—Gerard is almost screaming. His moans are high-pitched and girlish, his body is so warm. Gerard is the most fragrant thing in the room—waiting for him is like waiting for food at a restaurant right next to the kitchen—every second that passes your hunger becomes more insatiable. His hard-on is rubbing against your stomach, making him writhe in pleasure. You’d notice if you could focus on anything but the fresh smell of iron. You’re getting lost in him. You know you have to hold out but you don’t know if you can. You shouldn’t be this worried about cumming too quickly, Gerard barely makes it past five minutes most days, but you’re just so overwhelmed you can't help it. You’ve been gradually getting more intense, speeding up, practically fucking on autopilot.

You have your face buried in the crook of Gerard’s neck, you’re huffing him like an addict. Time is a lost idea to you. You have no idea how long you’ve been inside of him, let alone what time it is. You tune back into reality because of Gerard hitting your back. You’re sticky with cum, a lot of it. You slow to a stop, setting Gerard down on the floor with care. He’s crying and his legs are shaking, for a second you’re worried you hurt him. Gerard is panting, verging on hyperventilating. He reaches a hand up to wipe his face, smearing his blood over more of his flushed skin.

“Jesus Christ babe,” Gerard huffs, sprawling his arms out across the floor. He turns his head to look at you, half-naked in a shirt soaked in his cum. In retrospect, you definitely should’ve taken your shirt off, but he’s not going to mention it. He thinks you look rather nice covered in his mess. Gerard takes his time gathering his composure on the floor. After a few moments, his breathing goes back to normal. He feels great like he just finished a workout, even though he did almost nothing aside from sitting there and looking pretty while you fucked him senseless. He bled, too. That took a lot of work on his part.

After a few more minutes of Gerard lying on the floor and you sitting cross-legged next to him, he sits up. He moves closer to you, making it so your thighs touch as he gingerly pulls your face down to his, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Gerard reaches a hand up to play with your hair. He sighs happily, leaning against you. “You were on a roll, weren’t you? I didn’t mean to cut you off.” His voice is light and tremulous. Gerard drops his hand from your hair down to your back, rubbing lightly between your shoulder blades. “Maybe as an apology, I can suck you after you’re done sucking me.” When you look at him he’s smiling, acting like the cat that caught the canary. You can’t help but laugh.

“That one was bad, Gerard. Shamefully so.” Gerard just kisses you, putting a hand on your thigh for leverage to push himself up. The blood around his mouth has mostly dried, and his tongue has mostly stopped bleeding. As he separates from the kiss the hand on your thigh slips, landing an ‘accidental’ hand around your still semi-hard cock.

“Maybe,” Gerard says, idly jerking you off with his head lying on your shoulder. “But you know what’s worse? The fact you aren’t drinking my pure, virgin blood right now.” You breathe in sharply. He’s not teasing you per se, but whatever Gerard is doing is making you playfully vengeful. You hum, grabbing his wrist and gently pulling his hand away from your crotch. Swiftly, you pull Gerard into your lap, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back. He giggles, throwing his head. He throws a dramatic hand against his forehead and puts on his best damsel in distress voice. “Oh, no! Please don’t hurt me!” Gerard faux begs, and you think he’s adorable. You lean into him, messily kissing up and down his neck. You playfully bite right over where his pulse is strongest, earning yourself a gasp, and upon the realization, you didn’t go all the way, a dirty look.

“I’m not sure if you know how much this kind of thing really hurts my love,” you say, snickering at Gerard's glare.

“Babe, I want this. I know it’ll hurt, and if anyone was going to hurt me like this I want it to be you, okay?” Gerard would let you rip open his throat with his teeth if you wanted to. He’s thought about it a few times, even. In an alternate universe where that wouldn’t kill him, he’d like to try it out, but that’s a thought tangent for another day. Right now he has to focus on persuading you with his big ol’ doe eyes. You respond to his puppy-like begging by kissing in the center of his collarbones. You cradle Gerard’s head in your hand before moving your mouth to the side of his neck. His skin is so warm and he’s so small beneath you, it’s like holding a lamb in your arms. So fragile and full of possibility. And like the lamb, willingly drawn to the altar for slaughter, you draw your teeth back and pierce them into his soft pale flesh.

Gerard makes the sound commonly associated with vampire bites; a sharp cry followed by a strangled moan. He claws his nails into your back and grabs a fist full of your hair with the other hand. He handles it well, though. His initial scream is short-lived, reduced to audible heaving after a few seconds. The feeling of your teeth in his neck is incomparable to anything he’s ever felt before—a sharp fiery pain in his neck that’s so foreign to him, so dirty and abstract, it almost feels good. He feels so close to you. He feels like he’s completely and entirely yours.

Right now you feel like you finally understand the homoeroticism of drinking another man’s blood. It’s messier than a kiss, more intimate than sex, more romantic than a hickey. It’s the epitome of intimacy, and you’re doing it with him. You are drinking Gerard Way’s blood. Gerard's blood feels boiling in your mouth, thick, and smooth. It’s a dark metallic syrup dripping down your throat and pinking your monochrome skin.

Gerard’s neck goes slack and his eyes roll back, and as you separate from his neck, licking up the final few beads of blood that bubble out of the two red punctures standing out against his grayed white skin, you see that Gerard must’ve found equivalence to you sucking his blood to you sucking something else. Now with the mess of several orgasms on the two of you, Gerard lies partially limp in your arms. His chest rises and falls rhythmically at a slow and predictable pace. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted so perfectly, and god must’ve read your mind because the clouds part, letting moonlight shine through the window and highlight his features perfectly. He’s like a doll in your arms, perfect and untouched by the world around you. There’s nothing beyond this moment, and if you could, you’d bottle it and hold it forever.

You stand up, heaving Gerard up, pressing his side flush to your chest. He smiles softly, leaning his head into your upper arm. As you carry him to the bedroom, carefully maneuvering the dark hallway and pushing the door open with your shoulder. Kicking aside stray clothes on the floor, making yourself a path to the bed, you lay Gerard down on the mattress. He’s quick to stretch out and make himself comfortable. You take your already gross shirt off, throwing it to Gerard to wipe himself off with. You walk around to your side of the bed, rolling in under the blankets. You scoot up next to Gerard right as he makes an unimpressive shot for the hamper near the door. Your shirt hits the wall about a foot away, falling to the floor unceremoniously. You let out a kind sigh, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around Gerard’s waist and pull him against you.

“So are you going to make do with your promise?” You say with a smirk audible in your voice. You rest your chin on top of Gerard’s head, and peaking through the sheer curtains in the bedroom you see the orange sliver of a sunrise.

“Tomorrow babe,” Gerard whispers, already half asleep.

#my chemical romance #my chemical romance fanfiction #mcr #mcr fanfiction #gerard way x vampire reader #mcr x reader #gerard way x reader smut #my chemical romance x reader #my chem fanfic #gerard way x reader #gerard way x male reader #gerard way x male reader smut #vampire reader #my chem gerard #fanfiction #fanfiction blog #nsft fanfiction #nsft fanfic #nsft

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