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gnomewithalaptop · 5 months ago

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I'm still too distracted to write so here have a list of YJ-cast centric fics that make me froth at the mouth

Kon-centric recs:

I Want It That Way (1990s Tim/Kon) by WynterSky / @wynterstars -- A revamped, 90s-style Superboy origin story with added Lex Luthor AND a lil bit of 90s Robin for spice and flavor. Honestly, this whole series is so elite -- goes hard with the Superboy mythos + angst PLUS the third fic leans hard into the secret identity shenanigans in a way that'd make Miraculous Ladybug jealous. The first fic splits its attention between Tim and Kon, but the latter two are solidly Kon-centric

one plus one (easy math) by connerdrakewayne / @comphetkoncass -- Cassandra Cain and Kon go to a gala together. I'm always a sucker for a good Cass + Kon friendship. This one's very short and sweet, and it gets the job done -- 10/10 would read again

a timeline can be a haunted house by connerdrakewayne -- post-universal reset Kon angst + terrible coping mechanisms! This one goes so hard I read it three times. Tbh this author has an excellent handle on Kon as a character in general, so I honestly recommend just checking out their whole fic stash

Tim-centric recs:

Top 10 Secret Identity Fails by @havendance -- Tim's new English teacher is his on-again-off-again superhero teamup Helena Bertinelli (aka the Huntress). This one's just fun, okay -- the whole thing reads like it could be straight out of Tim's 1993 solo run, plus I love the dynamic between him and Helena. Overall just a very cool vibe

only the dead stay 17 forever by Sky_Dust (couldn't find their tumblr sorry) -- Listen, I've really been restraining myself here, because I realize my love for time-travel bullshit is not universal, but I genuinely couldn't not include this one. This bad boy is a Tim-centric time-loop featuring a seriously unhinged Tim -- definitely a darker tone, but I can't stop rereading it

Bart-centric recs:

reflections on respawning: a gamer's uncertainty by merils / @mamawasatesttube -- Bart has a hard conversation about his death and subsequent resurrection (feat. Kon) man, I just vibe with this one so hard. It's such a thoughtful take on Bart's more contemplative side, while still managing to keep his personality intact

the backlash to the backlash to the thing that's just begun by @kermit-coded -- trans/gnc impulse my beloved <3 also we get some funky Max & Bart bonding, made much rawer and more real by the fact that it's the 90s and nobody knows what they're doing. Again, feels like it's straight out of Bart's solo series

Cassie-centric recs:

you and I, we are more than just this armor by @suzukiblu -- KonCassie bonding + gender feels. They're both so trans in this, and the author does a great job of really digging deep into their complicated feelings (both about gender and about each other)

(also PLEASE somebody give me more Cassie-centric fic recs I'm literally begging you)

Team recs

I'm all yours but you're all mine by suzukiblu -- Poly Core 4 Soulmates AU! Essentially, everybody gets their 'soulmark'/soulmate-identifier (not really, but the best word) right when Kon wakes up in his pod, and because Superboy hasn't really made his big splash yet, they misidentify their soulmate as Superman; this is an issue mainly because 1) they're all 14-15 and Superman is roughly 30-ish, and 2) by the time this fic takes place, Superman is pretty verifiably dead. Currently in-progress, but this is such an interesting and fun take on the usual soulmates trope. I pinky promise you won't regret reading it

Love, Not Loved series by @popsunner -- hoooomygod this series makes me cry literally every time I read it, it's genuinely one of the most realistic representations of grief I've seen on AO3. Basically explores the general fucked-up-edness of pretty much the whole YJ Core 4 Squad dying one by one, with each fic focusing on a different funeral (complete with survivor's guilt, regular guilt, and just plain old complicated feelings). We get Cassie feels, we get Tim feels, we get Bart + Kon feels -- it's the whole shebang. Don't worry -- there's a happy ending eventually, but you def gotta work for it. This series beat me up and stole my lunch money and I'd happily do it all over again

Lost the Last Piece of Me by InsaneTrollLogic / @last01standing -- YJ Core 4 Animorphs AU! I'm sad to say I've never read the original Animorphs series, but every single Animorphs AU I've ever read has been such high quality. Unsurprisingly (I love this author, okay), this fic is no exception to that rule. Solid alien-invasion plot, character driven, and the world-building is explained well enough that even a newbie like me can understand (feat. some TimKon, but it's not the main focus)

Ikonoclast by anantipodean (couldn't find a tumblr) -- Tim and Kon get sent to an alternate reality that's almost (but not quite) like their own. This one's just fun for me -- I love the TimBart buildup and the worldbuilding on the other Earth is a funky time. Also, the other universe's Tim is goth and absolutely cannot stand mainstream-reality Tim, and I find that extremely funny for some reason

#fic recs #im @ing the authors bc i know i always appreciate it when people tell me one of my fics has gotten recced #timkon #koncassie #timbart #young justice #young just us #tim drake red robin #kon el conner kent superboy #cassie sandsmark wonder girl #bart allen impulse #yj98 core four #dc comics #best hits tag #<< putting this here bc tumblr isnt letting me find it under my fic recs tag #kon tag #tim tag #cassie tag #bart tag

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zae-heeyyy · 7 months ago

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Pastiche

Summary: You and Arthur escape through writing. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader Word Count: 2,345 Trigger Warning: Tuberculosis, death Tags: angst, sadness, high honor Arthur

a/n: Thanks for you kind words on Chiaroscuro. I've enjoyed writing again so much! I'm in my tragedy era. My hs english teacher's voice haunts me when I'm writing, so I spent a lot of time scrutinizing this. Didn't mean for it to be so long, but I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

pastiche: a work of art or literature that imitates the style or character of another, often as an homage or tribute.

You knew there was something special about Arthur Morgan the day you met him. Despite his best efforts to believe otherwise, he was easy on the eyes, and his dry humor combined with his strong sense of honor sealed your crush on the cowboy. Everybody else could see that he was sweet on you, too, noticing when he pulled you to sit at the fire with him or how he watched you around camp. As more time passed, you'd become mostly inseparable, taking every moment you had to sneak away together. One of your favorite places to escape to was the fields of Little Creek River in Big Valley. You'd be reading a book and glance over to find Arthur staring intently at an animal until it was out of sight. Then he'd open up his journal and sketch it. He wasn't doing that today, though. He was staring across the field, but you could tell he was elsewhere in his mind.

"Got somethin' to say," his eyes met yours earnestly. When he told you he loved you, a laugh erupted deep from your belly. Dumbfounded, he asked, "The hell is so funny?" his own laugh betraying his attempt to be solemn. It was hilarious to you that he didn't think you already knew that and that he didn't know you absolutely felt the same.

Another day, you were lying in Arthur's lap in the grass. Just the day before, he had returned to camp with bruised knuckles and some poor fool's blood on his face—one of Strauss's clients. You longed for a life where bruised knuckles and loan sharking were distant memories.

"Where would you be if you weren't here," you'd asked, holding his hand in yours. He stroked your thumb with his and gazed over the valley like always.

"Hard to imagine." He mumbled, sounding far away.

You nodded in agreement and replied, "You're always writing or drawing in your notebook. Maybe you could've been an artist or a writer." The thought brought a soft smile to your face, and you imagined, just for a second, a life where Arthur's biggest worry was perfecting his latest masterpiece.

He huffed in dry amusement, "Probably wouldn't have known how to read if it weren't for Dutch and Hosea."

You assented again and sighed, the smile on your face growing wider.

"Arthur Morgan: author and illustrator." You held your hands up in dramatic fashion as if envisioning the words in front of you. Then you untangled yourself from him and sat up, "You could, you know? It's not too late. Maybe a biography?"

"A story about my life, huh?" He looked at you with a dumb smile, "I think a book about dirt would be more interestin'." He bobbed his head up and down as if nodding made his thought more true. You shoved him playfully, and he raised his eyebrow at you and held out his hands questionly. "What? There's all different kinds of dirt," he started counting on his fingers." Brown dirt, red dirt, hard dirt—"

You cut him off, "I'm serious, Arthur! This life…it ain't one normal folks live." A shit-eating grin crept up his face as he fought not to make another joke at his own expense. He shoved it down and kept listening. "Sure, it's just your life to you, but other people might find it interesting, exciting, even."

He thought for a second, then put his hands in the air, mimicking you, "The Confessions of Arthur Morgan: The Detailed Life of a Gunslinger by Arthur Morgan. Sounds like a Pinkerton's wet dream."

"I see what you mean," you trail off, fingers playing in the grass. "Could change the name. People publish under a different name all the time. There's a word for that, I think."

"Pseudonym," he responded, his accent thick. "Think it's got one of those silent letters in front." He said it so matter of factly, and it confirmed what you already knew about him: he was far more intelligent than anybody ever gave him credit for. Still, you left the idea alone and thought Arthur had, too.

Then, on another afternoon in the fields near Little Creek River, he spoke out of nowhere. "Arthur Callahan or Tacitus Kilgore?"

"Hmm?" you asked, barely glancing up from your book.

"For the pen name," he confirmed, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

From that day on, your trips to Little Creek River became writing sessions. He bought a notebook that you two would trade off, coming up with ideas for the dramatized life of the gunslinger. You'd taken some creative liberties, and the story wasn't exactly a biography anymore. It had shaped into a Western love story. Arthur Callahan, after living a bad life, met someone who made him want to be better, an angel sent to rescue the devil himself. Arthur Callahan would get the perfect ending; a normal life. It was all Arthur's idea.

"It's not my story; it's ours," he'd told you.

You had been daydreaming about the possibilities for your novel for some time, but the chaos of life with the gang left little room to focus on it. The sudden move from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point made things worse. Somewhere in the move, the manuscript was lost or destroyed—either way, it was gone. You couldn't hold back your tears during your next trip to Big Valley. Arthur's big hands swallowed your face as his thumbs wiped your tears away.

"Shhh, we'll rewrite it, sweetheart," he promised.

Despite Arthur's gentle nudges, you couldn't find it in you to rewrite the story. Another day, he'd invited you to ride with him, heading off to your usual spot. He'd asked once more if you were feeling up to writing again. When you rejected the idea, he shook his head, seemingly surrendering.

"Fine! You're so damn stubborn." There was no malice in his voice, though, and his eyes twinkled a little. "Looks like I gotta take matters into my own hands." Instead of stopping the horse in the fields as usual, Arthur stopped short, cutting into nearby woods. Eventually, he halted outside of the small cabin that was Vetter's Echo and hitched the horse outside.

"Come on," he said, helping you down. "I've got a surprise for you." You walked up the cabin's steps, and he swung the door open to a small living quarters. "It don't got a back door, and I'm pretty sure the feller living here got mauled by a bear, but it's got one of these things." He gestured to the desk in the corner of the small cabin, a typewriter sitting atop it, "I don't have the first clue about using it." So he left it for you to figure out. He'd sit on a stool beside you, reading from a notebook, and you'd type slowly at first, but as time went on, the keys felt as familiar to you as a gun trigger did to him.

Then things started falling apart. You'd moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point, then to Shady Bell in a matter of weeks. The men went on a job to rob the bank in St. Denis, and most didn't return. You'd forgotten about the manuscript while trying to survive and spent weeks worried about Arthur and everybody else.

Then he came home to you, waterlogged but alive. You'd never felt more relieved. He was skinny and had a persistent cough, blaming it all on his rough journey. But it didn't stop him from finishing the book as promised. He'd write whenever he had a chance, and you'd go back to the little cabin in the woods, you typing and him reading.

Then he couldn't get through a page without coughing. You listened, concern etched on your face as he told you about his coughing spell and subsequent visit to the doctor in the city. Tuberculosis: practically a death sentence. After that, he'd step back when you tried to be close to him and wouldn't let you kiss him or be intimate with him. You spent a lot of time crying while he dipped his head in profound shame.

Weeks later, he woke you up at night, gently shaking you and whispering to not alert anyone else. "C'mon, get dressed and ride with me." He was serious, his jaw set, his voice low but demanding. You didn't know what was wrong, but dread ran through your veins. You rode far away from camp, mostly in silence, your anxiety not letting you say anything.

"You're gonna live a good life. "he finally said, breaking the silence. Your eyes stung, and you felt a lump in your throat.

"I don't want to hear this right now, Arthur."

He shook his head, frustrated, and spoke through clenched teeth. "Listen to me." His tone made you flinch. He'd never taken on that tone with you, ever. "This whole thing with Dutch, it's over. You gotta run. Gotta get out and make a good life for yourself."

You wanted to protest; you weren't going to leave him, not now. But then you saw the waiting stagecoach up ahead. Your heart dropped and shattered into a million pieces. You reached around him to pull the horse's reins, coming to a skidding stop. You hopped down and started shaking your head, frantic in your movements and words.

"No, Arthur. No."

You wiped away the quickly falling tears as you turned, fast walking, almost running back to that godforsaken camp that was Beaver Hollow. Even in his sickness, it only took Arthur a few big steps to reach you, grabbing you by the waist and turning you to face him. And then you cursed at him, pounded your fists against his chest, and wailed into the night. He just pulled you close to him, squeezing you until you didn't fight anymore. He gave you a stack of cash, made you promise to run, and said he'd come find you after it was all over. But both of you knew, deep down, that you were setting eyes on each other for the last time. He kissed your head. You sobbed into his chest, only letting go when the impatient stagecoach driver beckoned you.

"Never could've imagined I'd know somebody as perfect for me as you." All you could choke out was, "I love you," over and over and over again. He slipped a folded letter into your hand and helped you into the coach filled with your things. He stood silently with his hat in his hands while you rode off into the night. You sobbed for as long as your body let you while the coach took you down to Copperhead Landing.

First, Tilly showed up with Jack, and then Sadie came with Abagail. But then John arrived bearing Arthur's hat and satchel with a look in his eyes so terrible that it brought you to a screaming sob. That night, when everybody had finally settled down to sleep, you slipped away, leaving a note of thanks and well wishes. You were alone then, the way you wanted it to be without Arthur.

Eight years; it had been eight years since everything went to shit. In eight years, you worked your ass off with any odd jobs you could find. Keeping busy was how you cured your broken heart. You'd tried as hard as you could to forget about the life you'd once lived until you read a headline in the newspaper: MICAH BELL KILLED. The memories flooded back to you, and you returned to a place you hadn't visited in a while. You only kept 2 things from that time: a letter from Arthur and the manuscript you'd written with him. Forged in Fire, you called it. After all this time, you couldn't remember who came up with the name, but you remembered why. You two were like tempered metal; the more you walked through hellfire, the stronger you became.

Then there was Arthur's letter. You'd read it only once before today.

"Things I wanted to say but did not have the courage to say aloud." was scrawled across the top of the page, followed by a list.

"Keep visiting Big Valley.

Keep writing.

Publish the book.

Watch every sunset.

Trust your gut.

Please, be happy."

You heard his voice through every word. He'd underlined the third point: publish the book. In that moment, you decided to take a leap. You wrote to a publisher and sent a copy of the manuscript. And that's all it took. Things went into a tailspin after that, and before you knew it, you were holding a hard copy of the manuscript you and Arthur had worked on together all that time ago.

You'd made an effort, then, to find Abigail and John and Jack. They were held up at a ranch, Beecher's Hope, and were married now. You caught up with the Marstons and apologized for hastily disappearing all those years ago. They were happy for you, and you for them.

On your departure, John took your hand, "I don't talk about him much these days, but I don't think he loved anybody like he loved you." He paused for a moment and forced his eyes to meet yours. "He's buried out in Ambarino, near Donner Falls. Top of the mountain. I can take you." You declined John's offer but set out east toward Donner Falls the next day.

You found him around noon and watched wistfully as an eagle flew from its spot on a rock behind the flowery grave. You fell to your knees, no longer able to control the tears flowing down your face. "I did it, my love," you choked through tears. It'd been a long, long time since you let yourself feel this pain—a longing to reach something impossible. You dabbed the tears away from your eyes and sat in the grass, hugging Forged in Fire to your chest. "Thought I'd read it to you," you spoke into the air. You opened the book, cracked the spine, and read "Chapter One: Heaven's Fall, Hell's Rise."

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cosmerelists · 15 days ago

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Cosmere Characters as Teachers

As requested by @little-cute-pink-horrible-being :)

If Cosmere characters were teachers, what would they teach & what would it be like?

1. Jasnah: History teacher

Let's just say that she has, uh, high expectations of her students.

Jasnah: Anyone can memorize facts and dates. Jasnah: You all will do that, of course, but you will also learn to draw conclusions from those facts, track historical trends, and maybe, if you work hard, you can come up with a theory of your very own. Bravest student: Uh, miss? We are seven. Jasnah: I do not tolerate excuses.

2. Hammond: Philosophy Professor

He has a hardcore group of students who are huge fans of his.

Student 1: Hey, you're in Professor Hammond's class? Student 2: Yeah. Student 1: Isn't he the guy who wrote that book So What if the Poor are Genetically Destined to be Poor? Revolution is Still the Answer? Student 2: That's him. Student 1: And that's why your an anarchist now, huh? Student 2: Listen, he's pretty persuasive.

3. Elend: Political Science Professor

Elend, a Political Science professor at a university, is the sort of teacher who assigns a LOT of reading.

Elend: Remember: politics is for people. Even when the people you serve suck. A lot. Student: You...sound like you're talking from experience? Elend: You have no idea.

4. Shallan: Art Professor

She mainly teaches drawing and painting classes.

Shallan: You all need to decide what your art means to you. Shallan: Whether it be capturing a moment or representing a person's essence or seeing into realms not normally discernable to human eyes--as long as it's art from your soul, it will be right. Student: What, uh, was that last part? Shallan: Art should be from your soul? Student: N-No, the part before that? Shallan: Anyway, everyone start drawing!

5. Painter: Also an Art Professor

I mean, it's literally his name.

Painter: The key to art is repetition. Painter: When a Nightmare is staring down at you, you don't want to be hesitating over what to draw! Student: Professor Nikaro, please, we've been drawing bamboo for a week! Painter: ...I'm not sure what the issue is?

6. Sigzil: Science teacher

Sigzil is one of those general science teachers you get in middle school.

Sigzil: Remember: the key to science is...? Students, as a chorus: Writing things down! Sigzil: That's right! Sigzil: Now let's see what's the heaviest thing we can stick to the wall using glue--last year we managed to stick me to the wall for a couple seconds! Students: [cheering] Sigzil: ...I'm better at this than I would have expected.

7. Wayne: Theater Teacher

Wayne teaches theatre at a high school.

Wayne: Acting is all about not acting. Wayne: You gotta just be the person. Wayne: Understand their past, embody their present... Student: ...wear their hat? Wayne: Exactly!

8. Kaladin: Also a Theatre Teacher

Look me in the eyes and tell me that Kaladin doesn't understand drama.

Kaladin: [talking to an school administrator off to the side while the class watches] And you can tell the school board that the next time they want to cut funding to the arts, I will be there. Kaladin: I will be there at every meeting where even a word of funding reduction is breathed. Kaladin: I will haunt those meetings, carrying pictures of my kids doing their plays and being happy. Kaladin: And I will make them look me in the eyes if they dare to vote to take that away! New student, hesitantly: Performance art? Student: Nah, he always talks that way.

9. Sarene: English teacher

If only because I don't think they have dedicated fencing professors at most places.

Sarene: English is not simply about reading books--it is about learning to think and interpret information. Sarene: You can take the skills you learn in this class and apply them very widely: to understand the news, to read between the lines of what a person says to you, to craft effective rhetoric to get your own way. Sarene: Read everything. Sarene: Remember: you cannot defeat an enemy unless you understand your enemy. Student: ...enemy? Sarene: Don't worry: you'll have enemies when you're older. Student: Yay?

10. Navani: Engineering

Navani would be an engineering professor at a college.

Navani: Your job, students, is to get this ball through that window high up on the wall. You can do it any way you want. Student: I'm immediately seeing: trebuchet. Navani [nodding sagely]: Go with your heart.

11. Pattern: Math teacher

...Listen, I'm not saying he's a good math teacher.

Student: [staring gloomily at their test] Friend: That bad, huh? Student: Mr. Pattern wrote "Mmmm delicious lies" all over it! Friend: So...you failed? Student: Yeah...

12. Raboniel: Chemistry Teacher

She may seem strict, but she actually quite likes kids.

Raboniel: ...And that, students, is how you build a very effective chemical bomb. Students: ... Raboniel: Any questions? Bravest student: Uh, miss? We are seven. Raboniel: So...basically adults, right? Wait, how fast do humans age again? Teacher's aide: [whispering frantically] Raboniel: ...I may have made an error.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Jasnah #Hammon #Elend #Navani #Raboniel #Shallan #Wayne #Sarene #Sigzil #Kaladin #Painter

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suguru-getos · 1 year ago

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Fluffember with Satoru Gojo

Prompt: Sharing a drink

Summary: You are in the early phases of your relationship with Satoru where you haven't even kissed each other yet. Taking things comfortingly and achingly slow. You go on a date with him where you share a drink together. <3 Warnings: None, it's absolutely fluffy in the most Dark Academia of ways since it has an almost poetic depiction of my love for this man lol. I have self-indulged here, so the reader is lean (Mentioning of his palm almost covering our waist); apart from that - nothing else. Let me know if I've missed anything loves x -> Talk to me about the man ;)

You hadn't spent much time with Gojo Satoru yet, however that didn't mean that the early stages of the relationship are not memorable and enticing in the least. Take today for an example, you can't wait for work to finish & go on a coffee date with him. It's barely been 10 days of you two agreeing to be in a committed relationship with each other. Your backgrounds were totally different, your brother goes to Jujutsu High and as his guardian who lives in Japan- you had met Satoru Gojo several times. He had introduced him to you as his teacher when he was 15, and now he is 18. A third year and ready to graduate. Satoru met you when you were 20, and he was 26 that time. There was always an eerie, unspoken mystery between you two. You didn't try on him though, as good looking and fluent in English as he was… something about there being no chances ever to exist caused your behaviour to carry a severe astonishing indifference towards him. Something that bewildered even Satoru always, though he was happy that there is someone who does not kiss the floor he walks on. It felt a good change, the only people who behave normally with him are his male counterparts, and women like Shoko and Utahime who know he is not to be taken so seriously at times.

Until on your brother's 18th birthday, he got him a fucking Mercedes. That was- interesting to say the least. You had talked to him here and there but your brother's birthday bash is the moment when you two started talking for real. Hobbies, what are your favourite places to visit, what irks you off, how his technique works… everything. Hell he cockily showed you his domain as well, something so beautiful you were haunted by it in your dreams.

You shake off all the thoughts in your head when one of your colleagues asked your help in something. He was a junior and often came to you with his series of questions and doubts. So far you hadn't mentored anyone really… though everything has started to remind you about Satoru Gojo. How good of a mentor he is for your sibling… Damn it, that man- you still haven't kissed for fuck's sake! Just gone on a casual movie date when he had to run off when your brother felt his CE in your house. Pft- funny… you can't wait for him to judge Satoru as a boyfriend when you finally tell him.

Satoru Gojo [3:00 PM]: Hey! :D You up for the date after work right???

You bit your lip as your phone's home screen lit up with the familiar name, no you haven't saved his contact cutely yet… you can't afford to move too fast. Don't want to be the one to fall first and fall harder and then get your heart broken to pieces.

You [3:01 PM]: Yeah, ofc! I'd get free by 5. Send me the pin.

Satoru Gojo [3:01 PM]: LOL

Satoru Gojo [3:01 PM]: 🤣🤣😏

Satoru Gojo [3:01 PM]: She thinks I'll not pick her fine ass up, mkay girl

You smiled a little at the text, biting your lip and raising your hand for your colleague to stop talking. He complied, seeing you so occupied and having dusted cheeks.

You [3:02 PM]: Okay, I'll wait :)

You're a dry texter at times, but you can be extremely chaotic when you're comfortable. Satoru still needed to unlock that gremlin potential after all.

Oh you can't wait for your work day to end, glancing at the time, listening to songs, finishing the Knowledge Transfer session with your junior colleague. Finally, it was 5:00 PM. You aren't one of the people who leave work on the dot, but today is an exception. You left your seat at 4:50, gliding towards the washroom and doing a final touch up on your make-up, before leaving outside.

There he stood, the man himself. Body language easy as a breeze, like a relief you'd expect when you see him with a tingle of nervousness that makes your heart ache. Oh he was wearing his glasses today, wearing a black shirt and some formal pants, waving his hands at you with a cheerful grin. He was the tallest amongst everyone walking by, easily visible and the most beautiful and ethereal of course.

You smiled back, walking towards him like an excited child and hugging him softly. Satoru wasn't soft at all though, single-handedly covering almost your entire waist into his palm and pulling you close, letting you drown in his expensive and luxurious cologne. Satoru smelled like power, if it was supposed to be a scent. A unique and distinguished scent that you wouldn't be too creepy to ask right now.

"Gosh little girl, I missed you. What're you doing to me?" He chuckled, walking alongside you and holding your hand possessively, intertwining fingers. Everything felt too much, and nothing at the same time. Nothing as in you wanted more, too much as in you can't take his touches which are now so relevant and so easy for him.

"I missed you too, Satoru." You still slur a little, and he looks down at you from his glasses, he loves how his name sounds from your voice. You've always called him Gojo san out of respect as your brother's sensei. Calling him Satoru helps break any restraints you have bounded yourself in.

Your office was near the bustling labyrinth of Tokyo city, and finding a neat and boujee coffee shop wasn't really hard for your boyfriend. You both walked in, and the barista was as mesmerised by Satoru at first glance as you were. Can't blame her, he is gut-wrenchingly beautiful after all. Sculpted by the gods.

"I'd like uh, to have?" He rips through your stray thoughts and smiles, looking down to match your height and leaning in a little closer to your face. "What'd my girl like to have?" Fucking hell you could combust! "I'd like to have a Chocolate Frappucino with an extra shot of espresso and some vanilla extract & caramel syrup please."

"Oh making a coffee mocktail are we?" Satoru grinned, and looked at the Barista who glanced expectantly at him for his order. "Oh we'd make an extra-large, and make it two straws kay?" He said is so casually though it was the cutest thing that has happened to you so far.

He held your hand and found a place for you and him, pulling your chair like a gentleman. "How was work, little one?" He muses, while you talk to him about your day, how you organized Zumba classes today for your colleagues and how your work was as hectic as ever but nothing to complain since you're not overworked.

He nods, and listens, like- really, really listens. For someone who talks a lot, Satoru was extremely observant and quiet right now.

Then, came the order, the Barista placing the tray with the coffee on the table & sliding in the two straws. "I hope you two enjoy." The venomous formality tinged with jealousy dripped out from her throat as she left. Satoru of course paid no mind… though you could observe how people looked at him. As if he was someone to attain.

You leaned in, wrapping your lips around the straw after dipping it into the coffee and took a sip. "Mm, so good." You almost moan a little at the exquisite taste. Satoru hands you the other straw, while you looked at him bewildered. His lips wrapped around 'your' straw, which had 'your' lipstick imprint and took a sip. Leaving you absolutely flustered and fazed. "So good, true… best thing I've ever tasted in 29 years." He hums with a genuine affirmation that only drives you off the edge. "Stop it, you're so dramatic!" You laughed, taking the other straw and sharing the drink.

How to make silly little things intimate - you could only hope to learn from Satoru Gojo <3 then again, you have several more dates with him to learn it after all. He was whipped and falling desolatingly fast for you.

#gojo satoru #gojo imagines #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #gojo x reader fluff #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #gojo drabbles #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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rainylana · 2 years ago

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“Kiss me.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie is having a bad day, so he looks to you for comfort.

warnings: bully!eddie, mean!eddie, slight perv!eddie mentions of smut and masturbation, mentions of eddie’s home life.

Eddie was tired, mentally and physically. Tired of his life, his friends and his fucked up family, apart from Wayne of course. He was tired of school, his band. Just tired. He was tired of living everyday pretending to be happy when he was only miserable. The trauma from his childhood was haunting him, the scars from his dad a big, nasty reminder of growing up.

The only thing that was keeping him going was you. Ironic, when it reality, you hated him. He treated you terribly. He knew it, he loved it. It was the only way he knew how to express himself. He fantasized about you, thought about how your cunt would feel with his cock penetrating inside of you, how it would feel to kiss your lips and pull your hair.

He got off treating you the way he did, being mean. He stole your things, pulled at your hair and tripped you in the halls, made fun of you in class in front of everyone. He loved to make you cry. He never once thought about having a civil conversation, asking you out on a date or just being openly friendly. He didn’t want that with you. Growing up was difficult. He learned how to express himself in different ways unlike everyone else. Wayne tried his best to raise him honorably, to respect people, especially women, and treat them right, but Eddie was complicated.

Deep, deep down, he was a good person with a good heart, he just didn’t know how to share it with anyone.

He wasn’t having a good day whatsoever. Everything was pissing him off. You were pissing him off. Your smile, your laughter. The fact you were obviously having an enjoyable day. He wanted you to be miserable like him, so he needed the chance to get you alone.

He sat in a seat in the auditorium, not participating in choir practice for the third time that week. His feet were propped up on the seat in front of him, arms crossed with tatted flesh and bracelets, clad in dark clothing. He watched you sing with your peers, chin high and that ugly pink bow that sat on the back of your head. He wanted to ruin you, and he hated that he was growing hard while watching you.

He loved your little stockings, your knee high socks and white shoes. The little bows you wore and the gold, cross necklace around your neck. You portrayed innocence, but Eddie knew better. He could practically smell the way you dripped for him.

When the bell rang and class was dismissed, Eddie stood, stalking over to you slowly and predatorily, like a hunter and it’s prey. You were left behind by your friends while you gathered your things, turning on your heel to wave goodbye to the teacher. He internally scoffed. Always such a goody-two shoes.

You gasped when you came face to face with him, left alone in the empty auditorium. Your face melted into fear, the look that he loved.

“What is it, Eddie?” You tried not to let your voice tremble. “I already gave you the homework for english.”

He shamelessly looked you over. “You seem like you’re having a good day.”

You gulped, knowing he was about to ruin it. “I am.”

He smirked. “Couldn’t help but notice you were watching me over there.”

“I was not.” You defended, adjusting the hold on your books. “I was singing.”

“Sure,” He stared at the open exposure of your chest.

“My eyes are up here.” You tapped your head, spinning on your heal to walk away.

He let you get a few feet away before stopping you again. “Don’t you have something for me?”

You stopped, shoulders dropping as your hand went to your hair. You turned to glare at him, pulling out your pink ribbon and tossing it to him. “You are so weird. What the hell do you do with those anyway?”

He watched the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders, and he looked down to the new silk ribbon he could add to his collection. He always made you give them to him.

“I like annoying you.” He smelled it before putting it in his pocket, making your face flush.

He smirked. “If it bothers you so much than stop wearing them? Ever think of that?”

You could, but that would mean you wouldn’t be getting as much attention.

“Whatever.” You brushed off. “Can I go?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

You groaned, which turned into a gasp when he grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him. “Eddie!”

He stared at you long and hard, holding you against his body firmly. Your breath was heavy, eyes fluttering rapidly as your eyes were locked.

“If I told you I wrap your sweet little ribbons around my cock, what would you say?” He whispered.

Your eyes widened, lips parting in shock.

“If I told you,” His other arm wrapped around your back, trapping you in his grip. “That I think of you scuffing your knees for me? That I get off to making you hate me? What would you say?”

Your eyes filled with tears, your heart racing and face flushing. You hated that heat rushed to your thighs.

He searched your face, looking for something, you didn’t know what. Answers, maybe? An explanation to why he felt the way he did? Why he had to grow up the way he did, experience such a horrific home life and father. Why was he falling in love with you? And why, damnit, couldn’t he tell you.

“Kiss me.” He said softer, not letting go of you.

It wasn’t an order or a demand, for once, Eddie was soft with you. It made you throb. Your eyes fluttered closed and you stood on your tip toes. You shakily placed your lips on his, giving him a delicate kiss. He imagined kissing you many times, but it was never like this. It was soft, gentle. You moved your lips with his like soft ocean currents.

When you pulled apart, he let you go slowly, releasing your arms from his tight grip. He was at a loss for words, looking down and avoiding your eyes. He felt so much. For once, he just wished he could tell you how he felt, why he did the things he did. Maybe kissing you was his way.

“Eddie-” You began to say before he cut you off.

“Don’t.” He shut his eyes, overwhelming.

But Eddie was Eddie. He was complicated, an over thinker. He made things much more difficult than they needed to be.

He looked at you, a mixture of sadness and anger taking over his features as he turned to walk away. “Just don’t.”

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #bully!eddie

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dreamingnights · 11 months ago

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Subtle games (part 1)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Author's note: this fic is based on the idea about Larissa and an innocent clumsy adorable Reader. English isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes! Enjoy, I hope you like it!!!

Warnings: none.

Y/N couldn't walk. The gray monsters were chasing her through the long passageways of Nevermore and her legs weren't moving fast enough to escape from their shadows. She could even feel the warm breath of the creatures at the nape of her neck just before she fell into an absolute void.

Her own screams woke her up but Y/N quickly realized that she was perfectly safe in her room's comfortable big bed. She had had another nightmare. When she calmed down she turned her head and tried to decipher with half-closed eyes the time her clock showed. Half past seven, she thought. Half past seven! She was going to be late for the staff meeting again. Y/N quickly sat up, cleaned herself up and put on her academy uniform at lightning speed. She left her room slamming the door and went down the stairs -two at a time- until she reached the small kitchen next to the meeting room, where she quickly made herself a strong coffee. At the precise moment when she was about to enter the adjoining room, where the weekly session was held, someone closed the door in front of her and the content of the coffee cup fell down due to the loud bang. When she saw the huge brown stain on her new shirt Y/N cursed outloud. However, she thought it was better to show up like that than to change clothes again, arrive embarrassingly late and make a fool of herself in front of her imposing boss. So, Y/N gathered all her courage and opened the heavy door to the office.

Nine serious faces stared at her from their seats. They were all the teachers of Nevermore, the school for outcasts. Y/N was the newest addition and she taught art and literature classes. She, like all of her students and mates, also had special powers. In her case, she was able to fleetingly give life to her own creations, something that could turn out to be her best dream and also her worst nightmare when her characters returned to their original inert state on the blank page of a book.

Nevermore's headmistress was Larissa Weems, a tall woman with platinum hair who wore a very elegant green suit. As usual she was the one who was in charge of the meeting.

- You're late again, Miss Y/L/N. -Larissa sighed. Later she looked at her stained uniform and drew an incredulous smile. -You have a curious sense of aesthetics. Anyway, take a seat.

- I'm sorry, Miss Weems. It will not happen again. -A blushed and hyperventilated Y/N sat next to Mr. Vlad, the fencing coach.

During the course of the meeting Y/N gradually regained her composure and then explained the challenges posed by the new semester at the academy. Y/N could even see an almost imperceptible smile forming on Larissa's lips as she listened to her attentively. Or maybe she was imagining it again, Y/N thought to herself. She had to get the diligent headmistress out of her mind once and for all because if she didn't her vivid imagination would play tricks on her again. Despite being aware that her crush on Larissa was almost certainly platonic and unrequited, she couldn't help but be enthralled when looking at her. Her incredible height, her silhouette, her cold eyes and her red smile haunted her every day like the monsters in her nightmares. And she couldn't escape from her either.

-Miss Y/L/N. What do you think? I'm very interested to know your opinion on this matter. -Larissa's soft voice brought Y/N out of her fantasies.

Wow, it's time to improvise again, Y/N reflected. She knew that they were still talking about the same topic and used her ingenuity to try to get out of the situation.

- You have a golden beak, Y/N. -Larissa praised her, showing off her perfect pearly teeth. -Your wisdom and inventiveness never cease to amaze me.

Hearing the compliment that came from Larissa's lips, Y/N couldn't help but blush and emit a sincere and wide smile at the same time. This reaction did not go unnoticed by the headmistress, who found it tremendously moving. Larissa suddenly looked at her companions and radically changed the subject. She couldn't be so unprofessional and show that deep down the young teacher Y/N Y/L/N was her little weakness.

After an hour of proposals and debates Larissa ended the meeting. Y/N was about to leave the room when she noticed the shadow of the tall woman closing over her.

- Y/N, could I speak to you in private? -Larissa asked politely as she tilted her head.

The young woman got lost in the woman's blue gaze and once again she had to rid those longing fantasies away from her mind. After all, it was a passing infatuation resulting from her dreamy nature.

When the two women were left alone in the large office, Larissa gently placed one of her long hands on Y/N's shoulder, who seemed to perceive a tender admiration in the headmistress' eyes. Suddenly, Y/N noticed a certain electric tension in the air and thought it was strange that her bodies were so close in such an empty room.

- I always appreciate your original point of view, Y/N. Thank you for helping me make this school a better place for the entire Nevermore family. -Larissa spoke those words lovingly as her hand rested on Y/N's shoulder. - And in case you didn't know, you are wearing your jacket backwards.

Y/N got a goofy smile etched on her face. How was it possible that she had not noticed this detail? She was sure Larissa thought she was a total mess.

Although for Y/N the day had only just begun.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday

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bring-forth-his-sac · 5 days ago

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The Christmas Party - Chapter 2

Summary: After seeing your text, Negan tries to use your mistake for his own benefit, but what will happen when you find out?

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Negan being a manipulative little fucker

Word Count: 4.4k

Link to Chapter 1

Negan remembers the first time he saw you. Morning meeting. September. While everyone else looked hungover or as if they considered driving off a cliff before getting there, you were chipper than a goddamn chipmunk.

He debated trying to swoon the newbie right then and there but Negan knew it would be a lost cause since you were obliviously surrounded by his very own Legion of Doom. Rosita, Aaron, Alden. Hell, even the grunting janitor was hanging around you.

And so he waited.

The shit part was what he thought would be a brief wait until the faculty meeting was over, stretched into days, then weeks and eventually months. Not that he was banking on getting you anyways, the staff was a vast ocean and many fish were practically begging to be on his rod.

He learned your name in the passing conversations of other teachers, was told you taught English and put you on the to do list, knowing he’d get around to it at some point.

What Negan didn’t expect was for you to seek him out. Sure, you weren’t the first to and most certainly wouldn’t be the last but this was the first time someone sought him out to unknowingly shit talk him.

Well, you most definitely knew you were shit talking. All you didn’t know was that you were doing it to his face.

It was funny when you realised, trying to put up a professional front despite how pink your face was getting. It was nice though. Refreshing. Not another woman coming over to flirt. You were hard headed yet bashful. Another nosey fuckin’ gossip but you had an ounce of humility which was new for Alexandria High.

It gave him a new objective; try to beat his personal record of getting under someone’s skin.

Whether that be in a hot and bothered kinda way or general annoyance, he didn’t mind. That’s what made him walk into your classroom later that day, so boldly telling you that you were on detention duty.

He knew that would piss you off and as he yelled at some spotty teens the next morning, he kept a special eye out for his new favourite English teacher, just waiting for you to storm up to him and go on some rant about making you cover his shift.

Negan had a viable excuse as to why he couldn’t do it, he was busy doing other things. Well, Amber, to be more specific.

Sitting in his small office with his feet propped up on the desk, Negan busies himself with the latest monotonous game he’s downloaded onto his phone. Without so much as a knock, the other Coach Smith, Mark, walks in.

“Packed and ready! I was thinking of pulling a sickie for Thursday and Friday and laze around the house before the family and I jet off next week…” Mark begins and Negan simply hums in response, drowning out his colleague’s vacation plans.

After about five rounds of Negan’s game, he gets a nudge to the foot. “But you’ll be real busy, eh?” Mark laughs, oblivious to how little Negan was paying attention “Y’know, I think it would be a big success if you both convince Gregory to dress up as Santa… although knowing him, he’d probably want some of the ladies to sit on his knee”.

Mark shivers at the image before zipping up his bulky coat, as if that would stop his imagination. “Why the fuck would Gregory be dressed as Santa?” Negan laughs “And what would that have to do with me?”.

Finally, he puts down his phone.

Mark shrugs “Just throwing out some ideas for the Christmas party, oh– and make sure to take some pictures of it! I want to see everything from my sun lounger on the sandy beaches of Jamaica”.

“I’ll ask again,” Negan tries not to get annoyed “what the fuck does all that have to do with me?”.

And then Mark says it. The words that would haunt Negan.

“Haven’t you checked the group chat?”.

Negan didn’t take much notice of the group chat, one that he never even asked to be added to in the first place. He’s never been bothered enough to text a message in and just skims through it every once in a while when he’s diabolically bored.

The next ten minutes, Negan spends alone, muttering to himself as he scrolls through the messages.

Stupid fuckin’ Gregory trying to rock shit that shouldn’t be rocked. Same goes for Eugene and his shitty fuckin’ weekend getaway idea. Negan would prefer that over Gregory’s though, considering a city visit means a much broader pond for him to fish in. Although the Kingdom has never failed in the past, the restaurant’s dim lighting and loud music make most gal’s up for it.

But then he got to Mark’s message. Or, ‘blessing’ would be more fitting, considering he gave the go ahead for the sports hall to be used for the staff party.

Like fuck they were going to get wasted in his fucking sports hall. Do they really think he’s that stupid? Negan’s fucking office is beside the hall and with a bunch of depressed, drunk teachers right next door, his place would actually become a ‘fucking office’ but full of the wrong people.

And for Mark of all people to offer up the hall, while he’ll be away tanning himself in Jamaica? Talk about friendly fuckin’ fire.

It would be nice to have been considered in this shit. Fuck Mark. And fuck that disingenuous thumbs up emoji too. Oh, and fuck the very idea of this Christmas party being on his turf.

Just as Negan is about to turn off his phone, he sees it. Out of all the people to volunteer for a last minute collab, you so eagerly offer to help? Negan smirks, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

“You are something else” He mutters to himself, fiddling with his phone as he figures out how to properly save you as a contact.

As far as Negan is concerned, there’s only two options. Either a gun was held to your head and that’s why you offered to help him, or… maybe, just maybe… the day before was your own funny little way of flirting. Negan prefers that option.

Typing out a contact name for you, he adds in some detail. It’s tough remembering each person, especially when he’s already ghosting so many and thus, the more detail added to jog his memory, the better.

Next to your name he adds a set of brackets: (good ass, weird at flirting).

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You stay off your phone until late afternoon, unable to bear the thoughts of looking at that godforsaken group chat.

You hoped the group chat would help your socialising skills, especially after the move to a new town. You can’t even remember the last time you went out with friends, mainly because you’d need friends to do that.

Moving away from your family to this small town was supposed to be the new beginning you see in tv shows, full of quirky characters, constant but unimportant drama and an array of hunky love interests. Instead you have Carol, a Christmas party to plan and a gym teacher that hates your guts.

A part of you hoped that if you just ignored your apparent request to help with the Christmas party, then it would all fade away. But the swarm of teachers at lunch gave you quite the reality check.

“Will there be a dinner provided? Or just finger food?”.

“I heard Gregory’s dressing up as Santa, do we have to sully Father Christmas’ name with something like that?”.

“Are you sure having it next Friday is a good idea? I mean, it’s the kids last day of term so they’ll be running riot! How will we be able to enjoy ourselves after dealing with that all day?”.

“Will there be tequila?”.

When the bell rings for classes to begin again, you hurry off as fast as you can, promising to have answers to everyone’s question… eventually.

You rush in and glance at the empty chairs, relieved that your students haven’t arrived yet. But when your eyes shift to your desk, you freeze.

“Jesus fu-“ you manage to stop yourself before the curse comes out.

Your body goes rigid as the shock overrides you, unsure whether this will be a showdown or simply another bickering match. Subconsciously gripping your small lunch bag, you hesitantly walk nearer to him.

Negan sits there with a wide grin, satisfied that he caught you off guard.

Quickly recuperating, you try to up your confidence as you move closer to your desk, giving him a stern look. “If you’re here to ask me to cover more of your detention shifts, then you’re out of luck” you keep your voice as neutral as possible, not wanting to add to his smugness.

“You didn’t have a problem doing it last time” Negan teases with one of those easy going smiles, standing from his seat so you can sit.

You don’t justify that with a response, shooting him another badly hidden glare as you sit and set your things onto your desk.

Keeping his stride, Negan swoops up your lunch bag and begins searching it’s content.

“Hey!” You exclaim, debating whether you should stand and take it off him. The image of him holding it just out of reach pops into your head and to avoid a humiliating re-enactment of that, you stay seated.

“Hmph, sandwich,” he shrugs, eyes lingering on your lunch “oooh and a half eaten blueberry muffin! Now that looks tasty as shit”.

You bite back a huff. “Tasty as shit?” You question, wondering if you should take offence.

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles flippantly, setting your lunch bag down but keeping the muffin.

As much as you want to badger him with questions as to why he’s here, you know that’ll inevitably lead to him hanging around longer. So, you stay quiet. You don't try to make conversation, simply organising your notes for your next class and ignoring his presence. If he’s come into your classroom then he can state his business, not wait for you to try and pull it out of him.

Besides, maybe he’s like a poltergeist and if you ignore him long enough then might disappear.

With his mouth full of your blueberry muffin, Negan taps one of the folders on your desk. “Are these all your big ideas for the Christmas Party?” he asks.

Pressing your lips together, you muster up your professional front. “Actually, Negan, about that…” you start “it’s a big misunderstanding, I never technically agreed to help with the Christmas party, I was just replying to Sherry’s question in the group chat. So, you’ll have to find someone else to help you plan it”.

You give a big grin, unable to hide the slight joy it gives you to leave him in the lurch.

Negan meets your smile with one of his own, leaning down so he’s eye level. His tone is just as patronizing as you expect “Naawww, honey, that bullshit excuse won’t fly”.

You don’t back down. Like a child, you mimic his tone “It’s not bullshit, it’s the truth and obviously a simple miscommunication, something you’d know if you actually read the texts”.

Negan studies you for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. He may not know you but he knows exactly what you are.

Negan chuckles under his breath, knowing full well that if he’d been in high school with you, he’d have to find a way to coax you away from your perfect little study sessions.

You’d be the type that would give him a disapproving look if he didn’t do his homework. The one that would hesitate to ditch classes because you want to be a goody two shoes and not rock the boat. Hell, you’d probably try to talk him into going back to class after he swoons you behind the bleachers.

If there’s one thing Negan knows he can count on, it’s your honesty. Despite what he says, he’s aware you’re not the type to bullshit. He found that out first hand yesterday.

Your comment about him floats back into his memory and he has to wiggle his jaw to loosen it.

”I mean, from what I've heard, her side of the bed wasn't even cold and he was already crawling into the beds of other women” your words echo in his head.

You definitely caught him off guard with that one but it’s not like he can be mad when it’s true. Your damn honesty is annoying, Negan is sure about that.

So when you’re adamant it’s a mistake, Negan does actually believe you… but that doesn’t mean he can’t use this to his advantage.

“Miscommunication, huh?” Negan taunts, trying to goad you “well, in case none of your gossip buddies filled you in yet, Ol’ Greg will be like a goddamn sore on your ass if you try to sell him that excuse. Just a little FYI for ya”.

You scoff. It’s all right there in black and white, anyone who reads all the texts can see you didn’t mean to volunteer for this shit. The only reason no one is admitting that is because you’ve become the scapegoat, thrown forward to work with this jackass.

Still, the stubbornness in you outweighs your willingness to do this just so everyone else is off the hook. Any semblance of a petty smile leaves your face and is replaced by a pout.

Negan holds your gaze, his deep brown eyes twinkling with a playful glint as he takes another bite of muffin. His eyes sparkle with seductive mischief, as if to communicate what his lips (and full mouth) can’t.

“Well, FYI for you,” your words cut through the air, direct and sharp “No, I’m not bullshitting anyone. No, I am not helping you. And no, I am not giving you my number so stop with the eyes!”.

Negan chews thoughtfully.

There’s a genuine smile tracing his lips by the time he swallows. “Jesus, sweetheart, I didn’t even mention getting your number and you’re already aching to give it to me,” he lets out a low chuckle, running his tongue along his bottom lip as you scowl.

“What? No, that’s not - ugh, that’s not what I meant” you ramble as he swallows more of your muffin.

“Don’t worry, I got some good news on that front,” he pauses for dramatic effect “I already got your number and, I don’t even think you’re bullshitting with that super weak excuse!”.

A wave of confusion washes over you, your mind scrambling to make sense of what he just said. Your heart skips a beat as you blink rapidly, trying to process it all but the confusion only deepens.

“W-what— how?! No, you can’t—“ you stutter “you have my number?”.

“That’s not the important part right now, honey” Negan shrugs casually, standing up straight “what’s important is how I’m trying to warn ya, y’gotta be strategic if you’re gonna tell Gregory you’re not interested in doing this party shit”.

A steady stream of students begin to filter in, giving you both curious looks before sitting. Negan pays no attention to them.

Now that they’re others around, you lower your voice “What? We’re not moving on from you having my phone number!”.

“Anyways, I see you got shitheads to teach,” Negan doesn’t lower his voice as he looks around at the students “so I’ll leave you to it, but why don’t you swing by my office when the day is done? I think I’ll be able to help you get out of this party shitshow. Sound good? Great”.

With a wink, Negan doesn’t wait for an answer and disappears out the door, taking the rest of your muffin with him.

Your jaw clenches, already knowing what your student’s faces will look like once they register that you’ll be seeing Negan later, outside of work hours.

The room falls silent as whispers start to swirl. Some of the kids exchange knowing glances, others raise their eyebrows and a few stifle giggles. The students are eating it up, practically salivating over the scandalous idea of you being Negan’s latest pursuit.

You rub your temple, wishing you could just get the day over with. The unfortunate part is that you’re starting to grow used to Negan’s antics, but the curious looks and murmurs? That’s something you absolutely do not want to become a common occurrence.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to focus and start your lesson. Thankfully, everyone kicks into learning mode pretty easily and the murmuring fades to nothing.

The rest of your classes go by in a blur, mindlessly spouting off Shakespeare as the kids try to decipher what the hell any of it is supposed to mean while you wonder if you should go to Negan’s office after school.

As much as you hate to admit it, Negan has a point. Deep down, you know he’s right about Gregory. The man’s a stickler and he never forgets—or forgives—anything. No matter how much you try to explain that you didn’t mean to volunteer for the Christmas party, Gregory will hold a grudge. And that’s the last thing you need, especially this early in your job.

You can practically hear him in your head now, his clipped tone passive-aggressively accusing you of not being a team player, of not taking your responsibilities seriously. The thought sends a knot of dread into your stomach.

You want to stay stubborn and insist this was all just a mistake, but is it worth the trouble it could bring? Planning a Christmas party with Negan couldn’t be that bad… right?

You’ve already worked so hard to fit in and make a good impression. Pissing off someone like Gregory is like kicking a wasp’s nest on purpose. He won’t confront you directly; he’ll just sting you with a thousand tiny jabs. Negan’s been around much longer than you, at this point he’s practically a veteran at this place. And hopefully, he’s got some kind of way with Gregory.

Of course, taking up Negan’s offer to help is the last thing you want to do. You don’t trust him as far as you could throw his lanky ass.

Yet somehow you still find yourself outside of his office after school, debating whether you should enter his lair or run while you still can. Staring at the office door, you gulp as you read the bold “COACH SMITH” sign on the opaque matte glass. There’s a fraction of you that’s hopeful you got it wrong again and this is Mark Smith's office.

You hesitate, raising your hand to knock before faltering again and dropping your arm back down to your side.

“Just cause the glass is frosted, don’t mean I can’t see you” his voice makes you stiffen momentarily before your shoulders sag and you just open the door.

A broad, mischievous grin greets you. Negan sits as though he’s the student, not the teacher. His chair teeters on its back legs, while his long legs are casually propped up on the desk.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he says it like he’s in on a secret joke “you wanna lock the door behind you?”.

Your face contorts in a mix of disbelief and shock. “Uh, no!” you exclaim, your expression saying it all.

Negan shrugs, laughing “A voyeur, huh? I can get behind that”.

You can feel the annoyance creeping up inside of you, like a slow burning sizzling under your skin. “Y’know I am this close to reporting you for sexual harassment,” you retort “and you owe me a muffin!”.

Raising his hands in faux surrender, Negan tries to turn on his charm “Damn it, sweetheart, here I am trying to help you out and you’re threatening to report me? Take it easy, sit, I know this whole Gregory shitstorm must have you stressed out”.

Hesitantly taking up his offer, you sit across from him. “So?” you ask “what wisdom do you have to bestow on me?”.

You watch Negan pucker his lips slightly to keep himself quiet, already thinking of another innuendo he could bestow upon you.

Swaying back on his chair, Negan says “Well, I was thinking of that saying, the one that goes like 'the best party is the one that never happens'".

You scrunch up your face, not following his line of thinking. “That’s not a saying” you point out.

Letting his legs fall off the desk, he leans across the desk, getting down to business. “It should be, though,” Negan admits before clearing his throat “look, here’s the bottom line, you shouldn’t be wasting your time trying to stop yourself from helping out with the party. Y’gotta stop the party entirely”.

Now you’re even more lost.

You know Gregory will be annoyed when he hears you don’t want to volunteer, so you can only imagine how frustrated he’ll be if you actively campaign to cancel the teacher’s supposed one night of fun.

“I’ll back you up… partially,” Negan mutters the last part under his breath but you still hear it. Your expression shifts to a deadpan stare. A part of you wonders if this is his final pay back for your badmouthing.

"I swear, you’re actually trying to get me fired" you say, clearly annoyed.

Negan’s smirk says it all and yet he still tries to convince you "Me? I’m just lookin’ out for you, sweetheart. Trust me. I’ve seen it all. You plan a Christmas party, next thing you know, teachers are too drunk to think, they all end up sobbing or fucking, someone gets hurt and boom—the whole thing’s on your head. Cancelling it now? That’s just smart planning".

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and stand “You’re unbelievable”.

He grins “I try”.

You turn to leave but the frustration builds. You spin back around, exasperated. “And why can’t you just tell Gregory this yourself? You have to help with the party too!”.

And then it clicks. You scoff in disbelief. Negan doesn’t want the hassle of being the one to oppose the Christmas party. He’d rather sit back, let you take the heat, and still get his way.

Crossing your arms, you watch him closely as you comment “Bet ya can’t wait for everyone to be in the sports hall, huh?”.

Much to your amusement, Negan has a terrible poker face. His mouth immediately turns downwards, eyebrows drawn together as his jaw stiffens “Oh yeah, can’t wait for everybody to be in my hall”.

A sly smile quickly appears on your face, eyelids at half mast as you purposefully wait for Negan to look your way again. When he does, he grumbles “What?”.

“Gotcha,” you says with the raise of your eyebrows, smile getting even wider “you hate doing this, don’t you?”.

Negan scoffs “You’re the one with your panties in a twist over doing this party, not me”.

You roll your eyes, smile still on your face and leaving Negan’s attempts to goad you simply slide off of you. You give a small laugh “Damn, Mr Big Shot, why won’t you tell Gregory you don’t wanna do this?”.

He narrows his eyes at you but you don’t let that deter you. “You scared of little ol’ Gregory?” you taunt playfully, knowing that should be enough to irk him.

Sticking his index finger in your direction, Negan retorts “Watch it, don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to wind me up”.

You laugh, shaking your head. With his shoulders square, Negan lets out a tight huff “I’m trying to do you a favour here, doll. You don’t want this extra shit on your plate, believe fuckin’ me”.

“I don’t want this extra shit or you don’t?”.

Standing to full height, Negan’s office chair rolls backwards and bounces against one of the filing cabinet. “You know what, I tried to warn you,” he tries to sound sincere “you want to dive straight into the deep end and go along with this party, that’s your fuckin’ problem. I’ll leave my office door open for when you come crying to me about all this”.

“Oh you don’t need to leave your door open, you’re helping plan this party too,” you have a cheery tone as you remind him, a sense of satisfaction filling you “unless you want me to plan the party with Coach Joey instead. One of you coaches will have to be involved if we’re using the sports hall”.

Negan flexes his jaw for a moment. “First off, don’t even call Fat Joey a goddamn coach, he’s a glorified intern. And he doesn’t get a say on what happens on my turf” he corrects you “and secondly… damn sweetheart, you’re petty enough to plan this party just to piss me off?”.

Grabbing the door, you swing it open with a little too much gusto. But who could blame you when your patience has completely worn out with this jackass? Trying to keep your mock cheeriness going, you give him your best jolly glare “I guess I am, yeah”.

Negan chuckles, meeting your glare with one of his own. “Fine then,” he concedes “you want to plan a fuckin’ Christmas party? Then let’s plan a party”.

There's a slight sinking feeling in your gut but you refuse to back out now, not wanting to give Negan the satisfaction. Turning on your heels, you walk out, your head reeling by what has just happened. Negan stays standing as you go, a slight smirk on his face.

You’re petty, stubborn, honest to a fault and as far as Negan’s concerned, you got balls bigger than most of the men at this damn school.

next chapter here!

———

gif made from scenepack provided by harleys.scenes on insta <3

#negan fanfiction #negan smith fanfiction #negan x reader #twd negan #negan x you #negan #negan smith #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan twd #jdm x reader #the walking dead negan #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd fic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead x reader #negan x y/n

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cheynovak · 1 year ago

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My brother's best friend

Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: smut 16+, jealousy,...

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 3538

Y/N and Sam known each other from college, Y/N introduced him to Jess. Sam considered her to be one of his best friends. While the brothers are on a hunt she ran into them, they decide to ask her for help. Dean at first doesn’t trusts her but the more he sees Sam hanging out with her the more he starts to appreciate her. Until he realises, he might actually have feelings for the normal girl who seems to be only interested or liking his younger brother.

*note: Picture this in the early seasons with a time jump. The story may not always follow the supernatural timeline*

*Not my GIF*

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Sam and Dean were sitting at the diner, while Dean was stuffing his face with what he claimed to be the best burger ever, Sam was trying to find out where these symbols came from. “I’m telling you Dean we need to go talk to an expert about these hieroglyphics.” Dean looked annoyed “And I think those have nothing to do with this case Sam. Just a werewolf haunting that farm.”

“Sam? Sam Winchester is that you?” The brothers looked up towards the sound of her voice. “Oh, hi Y/N.” He stood up and gave her a hug. “Dude, do you ever stop growing!” She joked while accepting the tallest Winchester’s hug. Sam laughed “Sit down with us. How are you, w-what are you doing here?”

“Well, I eh...” Y/N noticed the confused face Dean was making at her and Sam. “Oh, Dean this is Y/N a friend from college, Y/N this is Dean my older brother.” - “Hi nice to meet you.” Y/N said. “Yeah, hi.” Dean answered still a little confused. Y/N turned back to Sam. “So, I eh am looking for a new job. Todd and I left California after I graduated, you remember him, right?” Sam nodded “I became a history and art-history teacher at the local high school in Reno. But eh, Todd and I split up a couple of months ago, and I have been on a self-empowering road trip ever since. But I’m running out of money so, hence the job search.”

“Y/N, here major History back at Stanford.” Sam said exited to Dean, “And did an extra course in art history.” Y/N told Sam. While Dean made a oh really, I don’t care look. “So, eh what about you?” She turned back to Sam. “Kind of the same, road trip since...” He answered quiet looking down. Y/N grabbed his hand. “I miss her too.” She said sincerely. Dean broke the silents “Well, I’m going to...” He pointed to the restrooms. “Your brother doesn't seem to like me.” Y/N said while following Dean with her eyes. “He’s just not good with meeting new people.” They talked a little more, Dean walked back from the toilets seeing his brother laugh at something Y/N just said. When he got to the table Y/N stood up. “Well, it was really nice to see you again Sam.” Y/N wrote something on a napkin. “If you are planning on staying in town a little longer... and you want to, I don’t know, talk or hang out, text me, here is my new number.” She hugged Sam goodbye and threw a cute little smile at Dean.

“Do you ever stop growing” Dean said in a high-pitched voice mocking Y/N while walking to the car. “Really Dean? Y/N is a nice person, she was the first friend I had at Stanford, she introduced me to Jess.” “Well, if she is so great maybe she can help you with your little riddle.” he pointed to his laptop bag. Sam rolled his eyes “For once a girl doesn’t flirt with you but talks to me instead and you get all fuzzed.” - “I’m not fuzzed Sammy, I’m cautious, I don’t know her, I don’t trust her.”

Later that night.

Dean heard a knock on the motel room door. He answered it with a gun against back of the door, while Sam was sitting on his bed trying to find out more about the symbols.

“Y/N? What are you doing here.” “Eh, Sam texted me? He needed help with something he said.” Y/N looked Dean up and down, “may I come in or do I need to help him out here?” Dean looked at Sam taking a step back. “Didn’t think you would text me this quick. Missed me already?” She joked taking of her jacket. “No, eh I wanted you to take a look at these symbols.” He turned his laptop to Y/N. “Hieroglyphics, you asked me to come here to look at hieroglyphics?” She looked confused at the youngest brother.

They both heard Dean chuckle. Smooth move Sammy, he thought, text the girl an address of a motel she would immediately think she was needed for her brains. Y/N took a seat next to Sam on his bed. “What do you need to know?” She crossed her legs. “Well, can you translate these or find out what they mean?” - “If I have the right tools yeah sure, but not out of the top of my head. Why do you guys need to know this?” She looked back and forward between the brothers. Dean sighs he got up “Just tell me what you need, I’ll get it.” Y/N made a list with books she needed. With Dean gone she turned to Sam again looking for an explanation. After a little push from her Sam told Y/N about the family business and the latest case.

Within the hour Dean got back presenting the books she needed. “How did you get these?” - “The library.” - “At this hour?” - “Don’t ask.” He smiled his perfect grin at her. Dean took a seat in the chair at the table watching his brother and Y/N working like a perfect team. But after a while Sam dozed off leaven just Y/N to research. By morning both of the brothers were asleep. “GOT IT” Y/N yelled, waking Dean and Sam up very abrupt. “Hear this, it’s some old Egyptian curse or spell to trap the god Anubis. He was usually represented as a jackal or as a man with the head of a jackal. Their association with death and funerals comes from jackals scavenging around cemeteries. Now the strange part is that Anubis normally cares about the desisted, he was like the patron god for embalmers. He wasn’t a murderer.”

“Jackal, that would explain the bite marks and removing the heart.” Dean said to Sam. ‘How do we break the spell.” Sam asked Y/N “I don’t know, I never knew gods excited, let alone you could trap them!” Y/N said panicking slightly. “But, eh fun fact, the heart is key in Egyptian culture, it needs to be pure. When someone dies Anubis weighs it and if it’s light enough, they could go to Yaru, pretty much their heaven. If it’s heavier they feed you to Ammit.” She looked at the boys then continued. “The eh spells normally is carved on the skin of the person who tries to control Anubis, to tie him down on their own flesh, but that only works until they die. But these are carved on property.” Dean packed his bag, we need to get to that farm before any more people get hurt. “You.” He pointed at Y/N, “find out how to stop this.”

A little later Sam’s phone rang. The boys were still in the car. ”Y/N, you’re on speaker.”

“There is no way to kill this god, but there is a way to stop him. You need to find who carved those symbols. He or she needs to use their own blood to undo the curse. They need to wipe their blood over the symbol and pray to Anubis to weight their heart as a sacrifice for the dead he caused, I’ll send you the translated text. Then you need to burn that spell before someone else uses it or copies it.

After a long time, the brothers came back to the motel room. Y/N got up, “D-did it work?” She asked unsure of her translation skills. Dean nodded. “Good work Y/N.” Sam said. They all sat down for a second. Only now the reality started to kick in. “So, all the fairytales and horror stories are, real.” Y/N said defeated looking at her feet. “Well, before I go, is there a 101 starters kit I need to travel with from now on?” She asked lifting her up from the bed. Dean laughed for the first time sincere and handed you the salt. “What is this?” Y/N looked confused at him. “I’ll explain it on the way to your car.” Sam smiled. “Maybe... Y/N needs to sleep first before hitting the road.” Dean interrupted. “She had been working day and night.”

That was the start of them working together. It started out as an occasionally call to Y/N for information or a translation. Even Dean started to call her for help, or that is what he says to himself. The boys recent found the bunker. “Well, I know who would be thrilled with this archive.” Dean said looking over to his brother. “You mean Y/N? Why don’t you invite her? I’m sure you would like to see her again.” Sam said, knowing very well his brother liked her a little more than he would admit. “Pff, she is your friend, you call her.” He said trying to brush it off. “Are you sure?” Sam asked grinning, holding his phone out to Dean. “Ok, fine.” He huffed taking the phone.

“SAMMY! It’s been too long, how are you friendly giant!” Y/N answered her phone way more enthusiastic than when she answerers Dean’s calls. “Eh, no it me.” Dean answered feeling jealous. “Oh, hi Dean, is everything ok?” Y/N asked worried. “Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” - “You’re calling with Sam phone?” - “Oh yeah, no I eh, we were just talking and... would you like to come over? If you have nothing better to do off course.” - ”Sure, text me the address.” They hang up the phone. And before Dean could turn around his brother laughed “Smooth, very smooth Dean.” - “You shut up!” The older brother answered angry and embarrassed.

Y/N parked her car, the brothers were already waiting for her outside. Dean looked at her, she was smiling from ear to ear when she walked towards Sam pulling him in a tight hug. She really likes him he thought. “How are ya?” she asked him while giving Dean a hug too. “We’re good, found ourselves a new home.” The young brother answered - “Ooh, house tour!” She said while wrapping her arm around Sam like an old couple. Dean rolled his eyes while walking behind them.

You walk into the archive “Wow, this is really something!” She said with her eyes sparkling. “Well, I’m going to leave you two nerds to it. I’ll make dinner.” Dean said quietly leaving the room. “What’s up with him?” She asked Sam. He has been through a lot lately. “Hm, want me to talk to him later?” She asked him, still looking at the empty door, Dean walked out of. “No, he will be alright. Give him some time.” Dean’s mind started to float back to their last hunt. He was stupid enough to go hunt a djinn by himself and got captured. He couldn’t stop thinking about the dream.

Dean woke up in a warm bed, the sun came through the windows of the room. It took him a second to remember where he was when all of the sudden, he felt a hand pulling around his waist. “Good morning handsome.” The female voice said to his ear. His eyes got big as he turned around seeing Y/N in bed next to him. She kissed his lips with a soft touch before crawling into his arms resting her head against his shirt. Dean smiled softly not knowing what happened last night but liking the outcome of it. “Even though I would like nothing more than to stay in your arms, we need to get ready.” Y/N said kissing his chest breaking his trail of thoughts. “Why?” - “Sam invited us remember?” She looked up at him. “You forgot, didn’t you?” He smiled shyly.

He watched her walking to the bathroom in a little babydoll dress admiring her curves. “Stop staring Winchester, get ready.” He heard her yell.

Dean and Y/N pulled up at Sam’s place, Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. His parents and Jess were talking in the living room before they noticed them walking in. “Ah, there he is, aways the last one to arrive.” His dad said. “How are you holding up with him?” He joked pointing at Dean. “Barely.” Y/N answered in the same tone. ”No refunds.” John laughed. “Dinner is served.” Jess announced. before Dean could answer. Even though it was strange seeing you at the same table as his parents he liked it. “Eh, guys, we have an announcement.” Sam lifted his voice. Jess took his hand.” I’m pregnant.” Everyone was over the moon, but Dean couldn’t help but feeling out of this world.

Sam and John were talking, still sitting at the table. While Dean decided to get a refill on his beer. He heard Jess, his mom and Y/N talk during the dishes. “So, what about you guys? Still no ring I see.” his mom asked.” Y/N didn’t answer but he could see her face. “Is Dean ever going to be ready to settle down?” Jess asked Mary. “I don’t know, Y/N and Dean have been together how long know?” She asked Y/N. “Next summer, 3 years.” Y/N answered loading in the plates. “He is quiet today, I don’t know what’s going on.” - “I noticed too; he isn’t half as handsy as he is normally. He didn’t even hold his hand on your thigh or kissed you yet.” Jess said. Dean walked in pretending not to have heard anything they said. Y/N stood next to the fridge, he placed his hand on her lower back and kissed her temple before getting another beer.

Once home Dean took off his clothes and stepped in the shower, he felt a fresh wind of air against his back before he felt Y/N’s hands around his ribs, her face against his shoulder. “What’s wrong Dean?” He heard the worries is her voice. His heart bounced almost out of his chest. He turned around seeing her completely naked for the first time. His lips moved to hers, the kiss became quickly more passioned. Their hands moving to discover each other's body... Dean didn’t want to hold back he wanted to feel every inch of her. He took her hands and moved back, she looked worried. “Shower sex, to complicated.” He said while pulling her in the bedroom. “He is back” she smiled while he dropped her in the bed hovering over her. He lifted her leg, stroking her thigh with his rough fingers before entering her smoothly. "Oh, Dean..."

“Dean?” He almost jumped hearing his name. “Did you just flinch?” Y/N said trying not to laugh. “Anything I can help you with?” He tried to forget he just daydreamed about them being intimate. “I need your help.” She said while leaning back at the kitchen table looking at him. “I’m sure Sam could help you out. Little busy here. Food, dinner you know.” He said smiling over his shoulder, desperately trying to avoid turning to her since his dream had wakened an erection. “Dean, I need you, Sam can’t help me.” She was persistent. He sights. “Fine, I’m following you.”

Y/N walked to the garage. “Really? You need me to take a look at your car?” He said looking at her, she nodded fast. “Sam knows a thing or two about cars.” He said but still opening the hood “Well, I only trust you with my car, since she is a classic.’ Throwing him the keys to her ‘70 mustang. Dean started the car, looked under the hood. ”I don’t hear or see anything wrong.” He said after a while, turning the cars off still sitting in the front seat. Y/N sat next to him on the passenger's seat facing him. “There isn’t anything wrong with the car.” He looked puzzled at her. “I know my girl inside out; I know how to take care of her. But there is something with you.” She pointed her finger at him. “And you... I don’t know so well to fix.” Dean kept looking in her eyes, thinking “Damn that sounded hot.”

“So, tell me.” She pushed. “Nothing wrong.” - “Dean, stop lying to me or yourself. You act like I'm a stranger...” He stepped out of the car closing the hood. “Dean what did I do?” - “You didn’t do anything.”- ‘Then why are you acting so strange lately?” Dean started to walk towards the exit. “Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” She pulled his arm to make him stop. He turned to her, pushing her against the side of her car holding her shoulders. She locked eyes with him, for the first time seeing every tint of green before he dipped down kissing her deep, holding her head in his hands. When he took a step back, she felt dizzy, holding on to his flannel still looking at his eyes. “Now you know.” he said out of breath. When she didn’t answer immediately, he started to get nervous. “But I –I know... how you... You know your feelings for Sam so. Don’t worry, ok.”

Y/N pulled Dean closer kissing him again. Moving her hands under his flannel shirt to his neck and shoulders. Dean placed a hand on her side and one the top of the car, completely covering Y/N with his body. The kiss got hot and heavy really quick. Both stripping from their clothes, Y/N pushed Dean in the passenger seat while he pulled her in, straddling his lap. She held his head in her hands kissing, his tongue followed hers. His hand steady on her back while she grinded his hips for friction. A moan escaped her lips, when she felt him already hard against her clothed slit. His hand moved down in her panties, humming feeing they were already soaked, dipping two fingers in and out of her, wetting his fingers before softly started to rub his fingers over her clit. Moving a little lower placing his fingers inside her again while his thumb worked on her clit. Making her fall against his shoulder moaning his name.

He kissed her neck and ear. “Protection?” He asked breathless. “Glovebox.” She answered with her lips still in his neck. He moved his hand making Y/N whimper and dipped a little forward to reach for the condom. She moved away a little to take off his boxers and her panties, pumping his dick a few more times while he tried to open the packaging, her touch making it hard for him to focus. Once all wrapped up, she lowered herself on him. Moaning his name as she felt every inch stretching. Dean looked at her like a man enchanted with his plump lips parted as she started to move. The palm of his hand on the end of her thighs his fingers spread over her flesh, holding her steady against him.

“Oh Dean...” she whimpered in his ear. He could feel she was close to an orgasm. “I got you... Let go.” He said when his hand moved down to where they were connected, drawing circles on her clit. Y/N’s head felt back making it easier for Dean to look at her when she rode out her orgasm on is dick. “So fucking beautiful.” He whispered. The feeling of her tightening around him made it impossible for him to go on any longer. He pulled his arms around her while he groans against her neck and shoulder. Both of them out of breath, but neither moved. Dean looked in her eyes again moving a piece of hair out of her face. “Was not expecting that.” He laughed “Next time, talk to me before assuming I like someone else.” Y/N hit his chest with the back of her hand.

They started to get dressed outside of the car. “So eh, is this a one-time thing?” Dean asked a little nervous. Y/N smiled flirty while walking to the door? “Wait, what does that mean.” He yelled. “Talk to me more, you will figure out.” He ran after her holding her against the door. “I've got plenty of time now.” He kissed her. “I don’t think so.” -” Why not?” - “Dean, I smell something burning.” She said in a honey sweet voice. Dean pushed her aside while he ran to the kitchen.

Sam held up the pots and pans that were burned while the both of you ran in the kitchen. “Next time before you two... You know what, I don’t even want to know, but make sure to turn off the stove Dean.”

“So, Pizza it is?” Y/N asked not being able to contain her laugh.

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

#fanfic #fluff #dean winchester #smut #spn #supernatural #sam and dean #sam winchester #spnfandom #the winchester brothers #x yn #y/n

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hannahssimblr · 2 months ago

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Full email under the cut

Beginning // Prev // Next

Sorry it took me so long to respond! It’s been busy.

Don’t worry about bringing up school. It’s okay, I want to hear about it, and I know it’s what’s going on for you right now. It’s tough, all that study and homework talk. I remember that too, but mostly I didn’t care and I didn’t do it, and the teachers couldn’t really say much about that. I’m not saying that’s what you should do, but… Oh, wow, that’s dramatic about the counsellor. Just because of some homework stuff? Have you gone? I feel like you could just say that there’s too much work and you don’t have time. It sounds like they’re treating it like some kind of emotional issue. Maybe girls schools are different in that way to mixed ones, but truly, I don’t think that anyone would have been that invested in me at my school…

Nah, I get what you’re saying about Kelly. Even when you’re not friends with someone anymore they kinda hang around in your head. I had that with a guy at school, I felt like he sort of haunted me for a while, but it’s different now. I’m sure that when you stop seeing her, you’ll stop thinking about her too. At least that’s what happened for me. Life is different after school.

Right! You’ve hit the nail on the head. I’ve been thinking about Kasper too, and the personality that he couldn’t show us because of the language barrier. There’s this other side to it all, too, where some people speak to me in this slow, very kind way like I’m a child, even when they’re speaking English. I can tell they’re not being themselves either, and I’m just the foreign guy. That’s me. That’s my whole personality now. But it’s fine, really. I’m getting on better with Jonas, and it’s not like that with him.

We do a lot of stuff together. He likes to go bouldering, so that’s what I do now too. We go to the gym together, go out and see live music and we’ve been swimming at this lake a little bit of a drive out of the city with a group of his friends on a semi-regular basis. Our friends, maybe. I don’t know if I can say that yet, but I’m getting to know them all a little better.

Things are looking up, I think. Starting college in a few days so I might be slow getting back to you! Take care of yourself!

Jude. x

#lucky boy 2011

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menlove · 8 months ago

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some of the gayest things i did w my girl besties as a kid that haunt me daily even though i'm almost 25

laying on the hot cement of the playground watching the clouds, talking about which boys we'd date in class, and i look over at her and notice how the sun is turning her black hair slightly red in the sun and sigh and say "i wish i were a boy, 'cause then i'd date you"

made a new best friend a little after her who was a year younger than me and i wanted to live inside her skin, a little bit, and went over to her house constantly. i drew her silly art, those weird emo blobs from the mid aughts, and she hung it up on her door. we joked about being married a lot. when i had to move away across the country, one night i was staring up at the moon while listening to a love song and started sobbing wondering if she was also looking at the moon. i never texted her again.

when i was 12 i fell in love with a girl for the first time i knew about. i had just gotten over being weirded out by gay people & when the kids in class started whispering about us being dykes, my teacher called home about it. i cried my eyes out in a red pickup truck with my mom as i told her i was in love with her, but it was fine because she was straight. i was drinking a red slushie.

once with that same girl, we went on a field trip to a nearby science museum. it was within walking distance and she held my hand the whole way, even though we were too old for it. at some point i started swinging her hand and knocking into her and laughing and eventually she just picked me up, put me on her back, and carried me the rest of the way while we laughed. at the museum, she kept finding me and holding my hand again. i went home that night, so giddy, and just kept thinking about her hand in mine and didn't even care about what the rest of the kids were whispering

in february, before that, she'd asked me which girl i had a crush on in class because i'd posted about it on tumblr. it took me a half hour to finally tell her it was her, blushing to my ears as we walked around the perimeter of the playground (we were at a small private school with less than 100 students, so even the middle schoolers got to use the playground), refusing to look at her. she told me she didn't feel like that, but i was still her best friend and she wasn't mad at me or weirded out. if one of us were boys, she said, maybe it would've worked out. her mom moved her back to california at the end of the school year. i never saw her again and she wasn't allowed to talk to me. she messaged me once, years later on here, to tell me i was pretty in a prom dress i'd tried on. she blocked me later.

i wrote down a story about her, a year later, for 8th grade english class. in it, i imagined that she'd never left, and that she'd kissed me while we laid in the grass, mixing up my stories and my life. my teacher looked at me with such a soft sadness and told me it was very beautifully written. she wanted me to submit it to a contest. it won.

#this turned a lil poetic/prosey so u can reblog if u want #ACHING TODAY I GUESS????#i'm still a little in love with them all in the way that they live in my heart as a part of my story #the first girl is married now to a man #the second girl i'm not sure but i think i saw her last year bc she goes to college one town over #and the last girl.... last i knew she's still in california and she's a republican lmfao #ALSO THE LOVE SONG W THE SECOND GIRL WAS THIS BOY LMFAOOO if that sets the scene for anyone

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gravitycavity · 9 months ago

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youtube

[Preview] Sunshine - Chapter 5

Hey guys! Thank you for your patience while I write chapter 5. This chapter might take longer than usual, so I wanted to give you all a longer-than-usual preview to make up for it. I hope you enjoy it!

For context, Pomni and Ragatha are in a ballroom inside of the haunted mansion. They're locked inside and looking for a key to escape, but aren't having very much luck. Having tried everything, they decide to take a break.

Also Ragatha is sitting in a chair. Pomni found her a comfy one :)

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

The long, dusty boxes that Pomni had already sifted through still laid in a messy pile beside the antique chest. Pomni never was very good at putting things back where she found them.

Sighing, she opened the nearest one and cautiously unfurled the bulky scroll stored inside. A series of small, perfectly-cut holes stretched across the yellowed paper. Some existed in isolation, while others were grouped together into long lines — as if a leaf-munching insect had eaten its way through the fragile material.

Pomni’s tonge prodded the inside of her cheek. “Ragatha? You said you played the…” her gaze flicked aside, “...violin, right?”

“Violoncello.” Ragatha deadpanned. “Why?”

“Well, I was just wondering — since you’re a musician, do you have any clue what these weird rolls of paper are for? They seem related to the piano somehow, but…”

“I thought you would never ask!” Ragatha gasped, clasping her hands together. “Those funky bundles of paper are called piano rolls!”

The redhead had responded to Pomni’s question in plain English, but the baffled look on the jester’s face suggested otherwise.

Ragatha continued. “Back in the day, these were used to play piano tunes without the need for a human performer. Each one plays a different song when loaded into a player piano.”

“Player piano…?”

“Oh, right. Sorry!” Ragatha shuffled her feet, “That’s a special type of piano that plays itself. I’m not quite sure how it works either. But back to the topic at hand — see those little holes cut into the paper? Each one represents one music note. As the roll slowly unfurls, a sensor reads them and tells the machine which keys to strike.”

“Ohh…” Pomni ran her fingers across the parade of perforations that spanned the scroll. Slowly, she nodded. “...So it’s like a music box?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Ragatha beamed. The look on her face as she watched the concept click in Pomnis’ head was a painting of pure joy; was it any wonder that she had worked as a teacher prior to her captivity?

Pomni sighed. She planted an elbow on the old chest and cradled her cheek against her palm. “Your students must have loved you...”

“Well, I did receive my fair share of apples.” Ragatha shrugged. “Never had to pack a lunch.”

“Wait, seriously…? That’s a real thing?”

“No. Not really.”

A silly smile teased its way onto Pomni’s lips. Heart stumbling, she turned away, fingers unconsciously fiddling with the old chest’s loosened lock. “S-So, um, is there anything else you can tell me…?”

“Nah — telling is overrated. In my classroom, I always liked to take a hands-on approach.” Ragatha said. She admired the antique instrument seated on the far end of the stage. “There’s a player piano right there. Why don’t you give it a whirl, Sunshine?”

Pomni felt her whole body melting, all the way down to her soul. Sunshine. She was putty in the ragdoll’s hands.

“S-Sure thing! I’ll find a good one!” Just about tearing the lid off of the antique chest, she rifled through its tightly-packed contents with purpose, scrutinizing the faded titles printed on each box. She didn’t recognize a single song, much less any of their long-dead composers, so it was anyone's guess as to what the music would actually sound like. She may as well have just swiped a roll at random — and, as a matter of fact, that’s exactly what she did.

Pomni set the bulky scroll inside the automatic piano after a bit of clumsy fumbling — and more than a little help from Ragatha. With the flip of a switch, the paper started spinning, and the premier notes of a lofty, leisurely tune stirred to life beneath the ballroom’s vaulted ceiling.

Pomni’s fingers drew circles on the mechanical piano’s smooth, wood grain exterior. For a moment, she forgot where she was, utterly fascinated by the simple elegance of the century-old contraption.

It was funny. The long-forgotten piece it played, humbly subtitled ‘a ragtime two-step’, had set her up to expect something more peppy and up-tempo. As the piano roll steadily unfurled, however, the melodic constellations impressed upon the paper sang a far different tune.

It was the type of jaunty music one would expect to accompany a silent film, just…polished. Refined. All of the musical tropes of the era were present — the driving bassline, the active, syncopated melody — but the piece’s dignified pace and finely-crafted harmonies would have sounded out of place in a rowdy saloon.

Here in the ballroom, though, the old-fashioned tune was right at home — at least, that’s what the haunted furniture seemed to think.

Looking impressed, Pomni tapped her foot, wholly oblivious to the perplexing scene unfolding behind her. “Hm. Not bad.” She remarked, turning to face Ragatha, “To tell you the truth, I actually kind of ohmygodwhat’sgoingon—”

Pomni stumbled backwards, then forwards, then backwards again into Ragatha’s chair. The ballroom’s inanimate denizens — the one-hundred-odd tables and chairs scattered across its marble floor — moved all on their own, dancing in time with the mellow melody. A backing band of squeaking wood and clinking plates added a percussive flair to the player piano’s charming, just-slightly-detuned sound.

Ragatha, for her part, was busy cracking up at Pomni’s complete and utter bewilderment. With a quick breath, she managed to compose herself. “Well, when in Rome…” The ghost of a giggle still lingered in her tone as she offered up her hand to the crumpled heap of a woman at her feet, “Shall we?”

Pomni let out a mousy squeak. “H-Huh?” She flinched, head feeling light, dots flitting across her vision, “But—”

“Come on. Don’t make me beg.” Ragatha batted her eyes, “It’s unladylike.”

Pomni blushed. She couldn’t argue with that. Without a word, she swallowed, shuddering like a frightened animal as she reached for Ragatha’s pretty hand.

Her fingers curled snugly around the ragdoll’s plush, doughy hand. Both women’s palms — one big, one small — fit together perfectly.

Pomni slid her other arm behind Ragatha’s back, powerless to stop the little whimpers sneaking out of her as she lifted the lightweight woman into her arms. For a moment, their faces were close enough to feel each other’s warmth — and it took every ounce of restraint Pomni had to resist asking: ‘Can I please kiss you?’.

With a brief, peppy fanfare, the music transitioned to a new section; the enchanted furniture, as if controlled by a single mind, adapted its routine in perfect sync.

“I, um…” Pomni’s heart sank at the sight. This stupid furniture was making her look bad. “I don’t really know how to dance…” She winced the thought, and then at the sight of Ragatha’s grave injuries, “And even if I did, how are we supposed to—”

“Shh.” Ragatha’s thumb glided across the back of Pomni’s hand. “Just…hold me. Please.”

Pomni exhaled.

Holding her dolly close, the jester closed her eyes, synchronizing her trembling breaths with every other downbeat. Her foot matched the two-step’s gentle pulse, and before she knew it, her whole body was swaying to the rhythm.

Ragatha nestled her head against Pomni’s chest; a blissful sigh escaped her shuddering smile. The tension in her body dissipated note-by-note, phrase-by-phrase, as her darling rocked her back and forth, here and there, to and fro.

#pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #ragapom #buttonblossom #jesterdoll #pomnitha #the amazing digital circus #tadc fanfiction #tadc sunshine

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