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leclerc-hs · 26 days ago

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save a bull! - cl16

pairing: bull rider!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which a city girl meets a cowboy OR charles finds himself infatuated with the visiting city girl warnings: language, NOT PROOFREAD, no smut (maybe in part 2 if y'all want smut), bad writing (sorry lol) word count: ~4.4k author's note: HI. did you miss me? i sure as FUCK missed y'all. so I started writing this MONTHS ago but then took a very long break from this website and writing. it might be very shitty so i apologize for that. it was originally going to be just 1 part but I found myself writing so much that I think 2 parts will be better in the end. PLEASE REACH OUT TO ME WITH ANY FEEDBACK. sorry if this sucks. love you all.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Will you please just consider it!” Abigail pleads beside you on the sidewalk, weaving through the bustling crowd with an effortless grace. The sun casts dappled shadows on the pavement, and the scent of street food mingles with the crisp urban air.

The city feels particularly relentless as you trudge along the crowded sidewalk, your third cup of coffee from the corner deli clutched in one hand, its steam mingling with the bustling street air. Your shoulders droop under the weight of fatigue, a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the city around you. Each step towards your office tower feels heavier, as though the concrete beneath your feet has turned to lead.

The tall buildings loom overhead, their steel and glass facades glinting under the midday sun, but their gleam only seems to amplify the oppressive weight of your exhaustion. The vibrant hum of the city—a symphony of honking taxis, chattering pedestrians, and distant sirens—becomes a monotonous drone.

Your dress, once crisp and sharp, now feels more like a burden, its fabric slightly rumpled from a day spent at your desk.

“I can’t take that much time off of work,” You say, your voice tinged with frustration but softened by a hint of regret. You’re caught in that all-too-familiar tug of war between professional obligations and personal desires. You finally get the chance to turn your head to look at Abigail as you reach a crosswalk, blinking not to cross. You see the disappointment flicker in your friend’s eyes.

“I get it,” Abigail says, her voice steady and tinged with understanding, “I know how demanding your job is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work from home. Or take personal time. I know you have that option.”

You chuckle softly, admiring her persistence to some degree. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“When is the last time you even took a personal day.”

The answer was never. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Will you stop begging me every second of every day if I say yes?” You ask, half in jest but with a trace of genuine curiosity.

“Obviously,” she replies, her smile widening as she sees the shift in your stance.

The pedestrian light turns green, and as you start to cross the street, you take a deep breath, blinking to steady your thoughts. “Fine.”

Abigail’s face lights up with a victorious grin, her eyes sparkling with triumph. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Nestled amidst rolling green hills and expansive grasslands, Abigail’s small family farm is a picturesque retreat. The scene unfolds like a charming pastoral painting, with vibrant hues of green and wheat fields stretching out as far as the eye can see, interspersed with splashes of color from blooming wildflowers.

At the heart of the farm stands a quaint, cozy house, its charm amplified by a wraparound porch adorned with potted flowers. The house itself is a delightful mix of rustic and charming, with its whitewashed clapboard siding, and a steeply pitched roof.

Adjacent to the house, a well-tended vegetable garden thrives, it’s neat rows of tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers bordered by a low wooden fence. A couple of well-worn garden tools lean against a small shed nearby, evidence of the daily care given.

Further out, a classic red barn structure where a white trimmed roof sits atop. The sounds of clucking hens and the occasional bray of donkey create a lively atmosphere. Near the barn, sits a small paddock with a couple of playful horses, their sleek coats gleaming in the sunlight.

The fresh air of the farm is almost a sensory overload compared to the city’s fumes. Unlike the city’s dense cocktail of exhaust fumes, asphalt, and various street food vendors, the farm air is pure.

As you sit at the kitchen table, the warmth of the farmhouse envelops you. The rustic charm of the kitchen, with its large wooden table and mismatched chairs, is filled with the sounds of cheerful conversation and shared laughter.

Abigail stands at the center of the room, animatedly catches her family up on the latest happenings in her city life. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, her gestures lively and expressive. The tales of the city hustle almost seem foreign in this serene setting.

Danny and Luke, her two older brothers, sit across from you at the table. Danny, with his sandy blond hair and easy-going demeanor, leans back in his chair, his face lit up with a relaxed smile. He listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with teasing remarks or playful banter. His presence is warm and reassuring. His wife, Gianna, sits beside him with a small baby boy on her lap.

Luke, on the other hand, exudes a quiet strength. His dark hair is neatly tousled, and his gaze is both thoughtful and amused. His demeanor calm yet engaged.

“It’s so nice to finally meet the girl who makes our Abigail so happy in the city,” Abigail’s mother continues, her voice carrying a note of heartfelt sincerity. “She’s always spoken so highly of you.”

You feel a flush of warmth at the compliment, a mix of gratitude and slight nervousness at the attention all on you.

“Thank you so much for having me,” You smile softly. “I don’t know what I would do without Abigail in my life.”

With a playful glint in Danny’s eye, he chimes in, “I do.”

The room erupts in a chorus of laughter, the sound ringing out with genuine warmth and affection.

You decided right there you may just like it here a lot more than you thought.

The silk dress that adorned your body was utterly unsuitable for the rugged rodeo environment, but you didn’t really care. The delicate fabric, with its soft sheen and flowing lines, clashed vividly with the dusty, rough-and-tumble atmosphere of the rodeo.

As you moved through the arena, the contrast became more pronounced. The silk, while beautiful, struggled against the elements—dust from the arena settling onto the fabric, and the occasional splash of beer threatening to leave their mark. The sight of your delicate dress among the crowd of rugged cowboys and cowgirls in their jeans, boots, and plaid shirts drew curious glances.

But you didn’t care. You liked your clothes, the luxurious feel of the silk against your skin, the way it draped with effortless grace. The expensive fabric was a statement of your personal taste, and you embraced it fully, regardless of the setting.

“You could’ve borrowed some jeans, you know?” Abigail chirps beside you, her jeans mostly ripped and worn matched well with her cowboy boots.

You shrug your shoulders in a noncommittal way. “I’m going to head to the bathroom before this starts. Grab me a drink?”

“Duh. See you at the seats?” Abigail laughs before sauntering off towards a beer vendor.

You stand still for a moment, observing Abigail and her brothers joking around as they stroll across the lively rodeo grounds. You can’t help but smile at their playful banter, you didn’t have growing up.

As you watch, lost in the charm of the moment, a rough shoulder unexpectedly collides with yours. The sudden contact jolts you out of your reverie, and you turn to see a burly cowboy in worn jeans and a dusty plaid shirt.

You swore he was one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life until he opened his big fat mouth.

“You lost?” He laughs, his green eyes bright and mischievous as he adjusts the hat on his head.

“Excuse me?” You reply, a mix of confusion and irritation threading through your voice.

“The city is a long way from here,” He drawls, the smirk on his lips widening with a hint of amusement.

The combination of his cheeky grin , the twinkle in his eye, and the dismissive tone ignites a flicker of anger within you. It feels like a mix of condescension and teasing that sends a sharp heat coursing through your veins. You roll your eyes, unable to hide your annoyance.

“Thanks for the information, jackass,” You snap, shoving past him with a forceful nudge. You march away with purpose, the silk of your dress swishing around your legs with each determined step.

Unbeknownst to you, as you walk away, he can’t help but turn his head to watch the sway of your hips in the thin, delicate fabric. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than necessary, a mixture of surprise and lingering admiration in his eyes as he takes in your retreating figure.

A hand lands firmly on his shoulder, and a voice calls out, “C’mon Charles, you need to get changed.” The words cut through his moment of distraction.

With a slight jolt, he snaps back to reality and glances over, meeting the eyes of his friend who is already gesturing towards the changing area. Reluctantly, he shifts his focus and starts to follow, his gaze now shifting into a more focused, practical demeanor.

Finally settled into your seat, far too close to the metal fence for your liking, and smothered between Abigail and Luke, you feel yourself relax as Luke places a tall boy can of beer in your hand, the wet condensation soaking your hand.

“Hope you can handle a beer,” Luke states, a smile on his lips. “It’s all they had left.”

You bring the can of beer to your lips slowly, savoring the crisp, cool sensation as you take a smooth sip. With a playful glint in your eye, you send a wink in Luke’s direction. “I promise I can handle a beer,” you say with a teasing smile.

Luke’s eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement, and he lets out a hearty chuckle. He lifts his own beer in a casual salute, the gesture accompanied by a nod of approval. As he takes a sip, the cool amber liquid reflecting the warm light of the evening, he meets your gaze with a grin that mirrors your playful confidence.

“So how does this work?” You ask, turning your full attention to Luke while Abigail and Danny are engrossed in their own conversation on the other side of you.

Luke raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “How does what work?”

You gesture broadly with your hands, waving them in animated circles as you take in the bustling rodeo arena before you. “This,” you say, trying to encompass the entire scene with your sweeping motions.

As if gaining a sense of clarity, the corners of Luke’s lips tug upward. “Why don’t you just watch and find out? It’s about to start.”

You turn your head back to the dirt ring, feeling the adrenaline of the moment as you witness a big brown bull in the chute. Its snorts are visible through the gaps in the metal fences, each exhalation a cloud of steam in the crisp air.

A handsome cowboy, his broad shoulders accentuated by a fitted vest, mounts the bull with practiced ease. He glances up with a confident, almost cocky grin that makes your heart race even faster. Your gaze follows every move he makes, captivated by the way he balances on the bull’s massive back as the gate swings open.

The bull bursts into action, hooves flying and muscles rippling as it twists and bucks in an attempt to throw the rider off. The scene is a whirlwind of motion and raw power—an exhilarating display of skill and bravery. It’s almost surreal, the sheer intensity of the bull’s movements and the cowboy’s unflinching composure.

As the bull spins in tight circle, you glance over to the timer mounted on the fence. The seconds tick away, each moment bringing the eight-second mark closer. When the buzzer finally sounds, signaling the end of the ride, the cowboy springs off the bull with an effortless grace. He tosses a hand in the air, his expression nonchalant as if the wild ride was nothing more than a casual stroll.

The crowd erupts in cheers and applause, their excitement palpable as they all stand up with shouts.

You turn your head back towards Luke, one of the biggest smiles on your face as you meet his eyes in pure astonishment.

“How about it?” Luke chimes in, taking yet another chug of his beer.

“This is insane!” You take another sip as well.

Charles lived for bull riding. It was more than just a passion—it was his livelihood. The cowboy lifestyle, with its raw, untamed essence, had shaped almost every aspect of his existence.

To him, the bull was not just an animal but a formidable partner in a high-stakes dance of power and control. Two things Charles always loved to have. Every successful ride was a testament to his skill and courage, a dance with danger that left him both exhilarated and humbled. Like this ride. Right now.

He throws his hand in the air, the rush of pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. The feel of the dirt beneath his boots, the deafening roar of the crowd, and an impressive score of 91, was enough to send him shouting in joy. He let his eyes wander the crowd around him, taking it all in like he always loves to do. He livesfor the attention.

So, when he notices a familiar woman seated right before the metal fence, paying little to no attention to the dirt ring, he can’t help but feel just a little annoyed.

He also can’t help but feel more annoyed when he takes notice of that silk fabric again, immediately remembering when he bumped into your frame mere moments ago. Your cherry lips and silky-smooth hair flash into his mind. For a second, he almost forgets the fact that he’s standing in the middle of a dirt ring.

He can’t quite shake the memory of your demeanor and the way you seemed detached from the rodeo’s thrilling chaos. The way you could care less about who he was. It’s a curious juxtaposition against the fervor of the crowd and the adrenaline that still courses through him.

One thing about Charles was that he wanted attention, yes. But right now, he only wanted yours. With that unshakable desire in mind, he strides confidently toward where you’re seated. The metal fences between you both form a barrier, but that doesn’t deter him.

As he approaches, the crowd senses a shift in the energy and falls into an anticipatory hush. Their collective gaze shifts to you and Charles, creating a palpable focus on the interaction.

Charles, his presence commanding and confident, slips his hat through the gap in the metal fence, offering it to you with a smirk. The hat, wide brimmed and well worn, represents a piece of his world.

“To help you fit in better.” His tone a mix of challenge and amusement.

Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and finally saunters off, his gait relaxed yet purposeful.

“What just happened?” Abigail smacks your arm, the one not jolding the hat, as you walk side by side. Her brothers loom behind you, their presence adding to the charged atmosphere of the moment. “Why did Charles fucking Leclerc just give you, his hat?”

You glance at the hat, a bemused expression on your face. “That guy is a total dick is what just happened.”

Abigail’s eyes widen, her excitement barely contained. “What do you mean!” She practically shouts, her voice a mix of disbelief and thrill. “He’s like famous here. Every girl probably hates you right now.”

“Why?” You ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Are you blind?” Abigail’s voice now full sheer joy. “The dude is practically sex on fucking legs. And he’s one of the best bull riders around!”

You look back at the hat again, it suddenly feels heavier in the grasp of your fingertips. “Charles Leclerc is a big deal around here. And he just gave you, his hat. That’s a huge deal.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the slight flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Well, it doesn’t change the fact that he was a jackass earlier. But I guess it’s good to know he’s a big deal around here.”

Abigail bursts into laughter. “You really are something else.”

The narrow aisles of the tiny market, with their cramped and cluttered shelves, had you aimlessly strolling in circles. The items on your list—given to you by Abigail’s mom—seemed to elude your every turn. The overhead lights cast a harsh glare on the disorganized assortment of product, making it difficult to find what you needed. You stood there, your eyes narrowing in annoyance, at the crumpled list clutched in your hand.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

The sound of the deep, velvety voice was enough to draw your attention away from the list. You turned to see Charles standing not even a few feet away, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against a shelf. His eyes, green as ever, created a swirl of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

Although you were known for your stubbornness, often digging your heels in even when it wasn’t your best interest, you had to admit you were out of your depth in the tiny market. There were no signs. No directory.

“Depends,” you reply, the hint of a playful challenge in your voice. Charles raises his eyebrows, a silent prompt for you to elaborate further.

“If you call me city girl even once,” you continue, your tone firm but light-hearted, “I’ll knock you right out.”

The challenge is met with a shit-eating grin, so wide on Charles’s face that it seems almost infectious. His cheeks stretch into an exuberant smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. And it takes him one step, and one stretch of his arm, to snag that grocery list right out of your dainty fingertips.

“You’re cute when you’re real mad, y’know?” He drawls, placing the groceries into the bed of the pick-up truck you borrowed from Abigail’s family.

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re right.” He says, placing the final bag into the truck and leaning against the frame of it with an arm propped up. “You’re just cute.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Charles doesn’t miss the subtle flush the tints the apples of your cheeks with a delicate shade of red. The reaction stirs a flutter in his chest, almost like an addiction that he never wants to stop.

You’re undeniably cute, with an effortlessly enchanting beauty that makes it difficult to look away. A magnetic pull that Charles just can’t shake. It’s almost as if he’s addicted to getting a reaction out of you.

It’s been days of settling into the rhythm of farm life—enjoying family dinners filmed with hearty laughter and home-cooked meals, gathering around late-night fires that crackle and warm against the cool night air, and rolling up your sleeves to help with daily chores.

Even had a few more run-in's with the famous bull riding man himself. He was sweet, but you couldn't help but feel at complete unease around him. Not in a bad way, but in a my heart won't stop pounding against my rib cage kind of way.

Like when he covered you in his flannel at the latest bonfire, taming the rising goosebumps along your body.

"I don't need this, y'know?"

"Sweetheart, you're cold. Just wear the damn thing."

Or when you bumped into him at one of the farmer's markets and it took no hesitation for him to grab all of your purchases out from under your arm.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doin?"

"Stealing my stuff"

His laugh shot butterflies right into your stomach. "You're something else, sweetheart."

You make a point to be as involved as possible, driven by the genuine desire to contribute and make a sense of responsibility.

“Should we hit up Rusty Spur’s tonight?” Abigail asks from beside you, her voice light and relaxed as she stands wrapped in a fluffy robe, freshly showered. She’s casually brushing her long, damp hair, the strands falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

“What’s Rusty Spur’s” you ask, leaning over the bathroom sink for a closer look as you apply your last coat of mascara, adding the finishing touch to your makeup.

“The bar,” she replies nonchalantly, her tone suggesting it’s a place she frequents often. “I think we need a night out.”

You glance at her through the mirror, a smile spreading across your face at the prospect of a night out.

“Yes.”

Rusty Spur’s was the kind of country bar that instantly feels like home, even if you’ve never been there before.

As you step inside, the scent of aged wood, spilled beer, and a hint of smoky warmth greets you. The place is packed.

The flimsy spaghetti straps of your short white dress dig into the skin of your shoulders, their delicate fabric offering little support. Despite its ethereal look, the dress feels unexpectedly snug against your skin. The soft white fabric sways with each step you take as you slip your body in between the crowds of people.

Abigail leads you to a cozy corner of the bar. Almost instantly, a bartender approaches, his familiarity with Abigail evident in the easy smile and warm greeting he offers.

You can’t help but notice just how easy on the eyes he is. He’s dressed, like almost every guy in this bar, in snug jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. His casual yet confident demeanor, coupled with the slight scruff on his beard and his easygoing smile, makes him stand out in the dimly lit bar.

Within the span of five minutes, a chilled, neck-bottled beer is placed gently into your hand. Taking in the view of the crowd, which is large but not overwhelmingly so, you scan the faces around you. As your gaze moves across the room, no one stands out as particularly familiar—until your eyes land on a table not too far away.

There, seated with a group of friends, is Charles. His presence is unmistakable. Even from a distance, he exudes a charismatic confidence, the kind that draws attention without even trying. He’s relaxed in his posture, laughing and engaging with his companions, the flannel from earlier now swapped for a casual shirt.

“Wanna dance?” Abigail chimes in your ear, her beer already half gone in the span of a minute.

It was almost as if Charles could feel your presence without even seeing you. The dim light of the bar cast flickering shadows. He leaned back against the worn leather of his chair, his senses heightened.

You found yourself completely immersed in the music, your body moving almost involuntary as your shoes glide smoothly across the weathered wooden floor. You’re not exactly sure when it happened, but your body eventually became pressed up against a random guy you’ve only just met on the dance floor. His presence both surprising and pleasant. He’s cute—definitely cute. His hands are gentle on your waist, guiding you through the steps with a natural rhythm.

He twirls you effortlessly around, guiding your movement with a deft touch that brings a burst of joy. As you complete the spin, you find yourself facing him once more, his eyes twinkling down at you.

With a playful flourish, he slips his cowboy hat onto your head. You can feel the subtle press of the brim against your forehead, much too big for your head. You tilt your head back and laugh, the sound a melodic blend of joy and unrestrained happiness woven into the music.

In this embrace, everything seems to align perfectly—the rhythm of the music, the warmth of the body, and the whimsical charm of the cowboy hat resting lightly atop your head.

“Do you want t-” The words began to leave the man’s lips, but they were abruptly cut off as a firm muscled arm shoved him away from your embrace. The unexpected force sent him stumbling back, surprise flashing across his face and yours.

The man recovered his footing, confusion turning into indignation as he glared at the one who interrupted. Charles. Meanwhile, you stood your ground, heart racing, caught between the thrill of the moment and unexpected clash.

If looks could kill.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Large fingers reach for the brim of the hat atop your head, snatching it right off before Charles shoves it back into the man’s chest. “Don’t ever put a hat on her head again.”

His voice was rough and terse, cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. “Let’s go,” He says, not giving the man or you a chance to react. In an instant, his fingers snake around your wrist, pulling you away from the dance floor and into the shadows of a secluded table ticked into the corner of the bar.

The abrupt shift caught you off guard, and your heart raced as he led you through the sea of bodies. The air between you was thick with unspoken words as he tucks you between him and the edge of the table. His grip on your wrist loosens, but his proximity is too close.

“What the hell was that?” Your senses heightened as your eyes locked onto his. The usual light green of his irises, often warm and inviting, was now obscured by a much darker hue, swirling with intensity and something primal.

His gaze was pointed, sharp, and unyielding. You sensed a storm brewing behind those darkened eyes, and the air around you crackled with anticipation.

“He put his hat on you, sweetheart.” You scoff almost instantly, bubbling anger simmers in your chest as you let out a soft laugh over the situation.

“Really?” You throw your head back for a mere second as the laugh pushes past your throat. “You shoved him over a hat?”

His eyes remain narrowed, the amusement that might have danced there moments ago, no longer present. “Do you even know what that means?” He presses, his voice low and intense as he leans into your ear, the weight of his words hanging between you.

“What a hat means?” Confusion flickers across your features. The question so out of place, and yet the gravity of his tone suggests otherwise.

Before you can grasp the implications, you felt his fingers sneak their way to you, warmth and firmness splayed along your waist. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through you, igniting the tension the crackled in the air. It was a possessive gesture.

His gaze never wavers, and the connection between you deepens.

“You wear that hat; you ride that cowboy.”

For a moment, you freeze.

“And in no fucking world, would I let you wear anyone’s but mine.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fic

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ninathekillerzblog · 5 months ago

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MONOSHIN FIC RECS

A compiled fic rec list of the more longer monoshin fics. All fics can be found on ao3. You should be able to click the title of the fic and be directed there!

this is for @fraisaa and the very few other monoshin enjoyers in this fandom 🙂‍↕️🙏 pls write more fics.

My Cat's Name is Jalapeño! by Perkykitties - 100k wordcount & complete - SINGLE HANDEDLY THE BEST MONOSHIN FIC I'VE EVER READ. cough sorry, bias is showing, post cannon fic after they graduated U.A.

Golden Days by hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao) - 208k wordcount & complete - five years after graduation, two heroes are brought together by coincidence, work together by necessity, and stay together by choice, trust, and maybe just a little bit of love.

Welcome To The Better Class by orphan_account - 200k wordcount & incomplete, post-cannon monoshin fic that broke my heart and put it back together again and idek anymore.

I want to kiss (your dumb fucking face) by gingerbreadshinsou - 126k wordcount & incomplete - it irks my soul that this is incomplete, it really really does save yourself and dont read it because you will be hooked and you will cry. Monoma develops a big gay crush on Shinso and his life descends into absolute chaos.

once more, with feelings by orphan_account - 50k wordcount & incomplete, in which Shinso Hitoshi transfers into Class B.

Resilience by Lilac_Demetrius - 43k wordcount & ongoing! Neito Monoma just wanted to enjoy his summer. Falling in love with his roommate's obnoxious boyfriend was never his intention. (omegaverse fic, dont say i didnt warn you.)

Now you know by albanyN - 42k wordcount & complete, in which hitoshi shinsou and monoma neito have more in common than they think.

Get Ready to have a Bad Time by despurrito - 41k word count & complete, honestly i was very very very hesitant on reading this fic because its an alpha/beta/omega dynamics fic. not to yuck anyones yum though! i cannot deny its still a good fic and if thats your thing, read it!

Sore Loser by SmolPidge - 33k wordcount & complete, After Hitoshi's transfer to the hero course is formally approved, he finds himself at the mercy of one Neito Monoma, who will stop at nothing to get him to choose Class B. Unfortunately for Hitoshi, it's working.

Like Turning Against Traffic in a Crowded Intersection by yanderegiran - 31k wordcount & incomplete, In which Shinso's in a relationship and everyone knows but him.

Smoke Rises, Water Falls by KiroAngel - 31k wordcount & incomplete/abandoned, postcannon soulmate au fic where shinsou finds himself growing more attached to monoma than he ever thought he would, but in a world where soulmates mean everything, what is that really worth?

Pink Summer by chromochaotic - 27k wordcount & complete, tooth rotting fluff and honestly the summer camp counselor monoshin fic no one asked for but we all deserve. 💓

Empathy by AuspiciousWhiskers - 26k wordcount & complete, in which Monoma Neito puts the pieces back together, and for once, they aren't just the pieces of himself.

Of Kitties And Parrots by gingerbreadshinsou - 22k wordcount & complete, monoma meets shinsou on a dating website and it's all downhill from there

That's Not a Kitten! by Perkykitties - 20k wordcount & incomplete - sequel to my cats name is jalapeño! i recommend you read the first fic before this one though. takes place when monoma and shinso are married!

fics under 20k words

What Could Have Been by Madame_Hatter - 17k wordcount & complete, three years is enough to change a man, as well as his feelings for his best friend.

Monoma Neito's Foolproof Plan to Get an Awesome Boyfriend and Rule UA by truejoyofsorrow - 15k wordcount & complete, Monoma decides that he should ask out Shinsou, shenanigans ensue.

Becoming a Cat Person by yanderegiran - 14k wordcount & incomplete, aka the pokemon trainer monoshin fic we all needed in our lives.

i learnt to love for the first time when our fingers intertwined by blinding_metaphysics - 12k wordcount & complete, Monoma and Shinsou were invited to a class A and class B camping trip. What was going to be a nice relaxing day turned into a horrible event.

hope you enjoyed this list! i might make a list of the shorter fics but honestly, theres a lot of those and not a lot of longer fics. we need more monoshin content pls can a very cool long fic writer see this and make my wishes come true?

#monoshin #monoma neito x shinsou hitoshi #monoma x shinsou #bnha #my hero academia #monoma neito #shinsou hitoshi #fanfic #fanfic recommendation #fanfic readers #my hero acadamy #monoshin supremacy

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doctorbitchcrxft · 6 months ago

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Hell House | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual advances toward reader (nothing crazy, just uncomfortable flirtation)

Word Count: 6125

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After leaving John and the Daevas behind, you and the boys began heading to Texas to investigate a potential case.

Sam slept in the front seat of the car as Dean cruised down Interstate 35. He looked at you suspiciously, smirking in the rearview mirror.

“What?” you whispered.

“Watch this,” Dean told you, grabbing a plastic spoon from the backseat next to you and put it in Sam’s mouth. Snickering, he took a picture with his phone before turning the music up loud. You rolled your eyes and laughed as Sam jerked up waving his arms and trying to spit the spoon out.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the younger Winchester said un-amusedly.

Dean gave what you could only describe as a giggle. You thought it was adorable. “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas; kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again,” Sam stated.

“Start what up?” you asked.

“Prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates,” Sam explained to you.

Dean mocked, “Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” replied Dean.

“Alright, just remember you started it.”

“Ah ha, bring it on baldy.”

“Guys, I am not going to mediate or participate in a prank war,” you jumped in.

“Nobody asked you to, sweetheart,” Dean flippantly responded. “But don’t be surprised if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Dean—!”

“Where are we anyway?” Sam cut you off.

“A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean asked.

“About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?” you asked.

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answered.

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

Sam laughed. “Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

You scoffed. “Oh, even better.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?” asked Dean.

“Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”

“Maybe the cops are right,” the older brother suggested.

“Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” Sam shrugged.

“Where’d you find those?” you asked.

The brunet hesitated, seeming a little embarrassed. “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormal websites. And I found one.”

“And what's it called?” Dean prompted.

“HellHoundsLair.com.”

“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably."

“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter,” Dean quipped.

“Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out.”

“Agreed. But not on the mistake part— I’m not getting involved in that argument,” you said.

“Good call,” Dean responded. “So where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this,” Sam said. He directed his brother to a fast food outlet called “Rodeo Drive.”

You interviewed all of the kids who had been involved in the incident, and the only detail they could agree on in their story was that a teen named Craig had been the one to introduce them to the house.

***

The next day, you went to the record stop Craig worked at and posed as interviewers trying to get his side of the story on a paranormal feature you were writing. Sam had asked him about the house he’d taken his friends to.

“You mean the Hell House?” the teen answered.

“That’s the one,” answered Dean.

“I didn't think there was anything to the story,” Craig shrugged.

“Why don't you tell us the story,” Sam told him.

Craig quieted his voice and looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”

“How?” you questioned.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”

‘Oh, that’s just great.’

“Where'd you hear all this?” Dean questioned.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second.”

“But now you do,” the younger brother finished for him.

“I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

***

You and the boys headed to the Hell House. It was more like a dilapidated shack at this point; it looked like it had been made with wooden boards that were probably rotting and hollowed out by termites. The path up to the house was muddy, and the house itself was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woods. Add “woods” on top of “misogynistic ghost,” and you were thoroughly worried about this hunt.

“Can't say I blame the kid,” Sam commented, taking in the appearance of the house.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” quipped Dean. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

You looked up at Dean. “Well, misogynistic ghosts that kill any girl who goes inside don’t exactly tickle my fancy.”

Dean’s tone became a little more sincere, but still filled with his typical sarcastic charm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself. Just uneasy, that’s all.”

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked. “I realized something back in Chicago.”

“What’s that?” you asked while you ducked under the police tape blocking the door.

“You never told us where you’re from. You know we’re from Lawrence, so, what’s your story?”

“Honestly, Sammy, I have no idea,” you responded. “My parents never told me. I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate either. If it weren’t for my mom using my middle name when she was mad at me, I wouldn’t even know what it was. Don’t know my social security number, either. I’m not even confident the government has record of my existence.”

“Huh,” replied Sam. “How’d your mom even have time for a kid if she’s been hunting since you were born?”

You took out your flashlight and continued looking around while you talked to Sam. “That’s the thing, she didn’t. My mom was never really a mom to me, and she certainly wasn’t to my little brother. Even though he was only two years younger than me, I kind of had to fill the role of ‘mom’,” you explained.

Sam looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, it’s whatever,” you shrugged. “You got something?”

Dean was looking around with his EMF meter. It was beeping, but not making sounds indicative of a usual reading. “Ye-ah,” he sounded unsure. “The EMF’s no good.”

“Why?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked at the power lines just outside the house. “I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings.”

“Yeah that'd do it,” Sam sighed.

“Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time, though,” Dean stated, looking at the symbols covering the walls.

“And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,” Sam informed.

You and Dean stared at Sam for a moment before the older brother quipped, “That is exactly why you never get laid.”

You patted Sam’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool,” you assured him.

He returned your smile. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

Dean moved to another wall with a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom piece of the cross looked almost like a fishhook. “Hey, what about this one? You guys seen this one before?”

Sam shook his head, but you felt a sense of vague recognition, too. “Somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said.

Sam rubbed the symbol. “It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”

Dean sighed. “I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one.”

A sudden noise had you on high alert. You and Dean flanked one side of the door, guns drawn, and Sam took the other. Dean nodded, and the three of you burst through only to be met with blinding lights in your eyes.

“Oh, cut. It's just a coupla humans,” a nasally male voice said.

The two men before you both donned backpacks and baggy cargo pants. They were around your height and seemed like complete involuntarily-celibate nerds to you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the same guy asked. He held an electrical device in one hand while the other man held a video camera.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gruff reply came.

“Uh, we belong here; we're professionals?” the man said matter-of-factly.

You scoffed. “Professional what?”

The man eyed you up and down before answering, and you fought the cringe crawling up your spine. “Paranormal Investigators.” He handed you a business card. “There you go, take a look at that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

Dean took the card from you, saying, “Easy, tiger.” He read it and muttered, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair.com. You guys run that website,” Sam noted.

The man who had been looking you up and down who’d identified himself as Ed nodded proudly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean grinned.

“And ahh, we know who you guys are too,” Ed said confidently.

You shot a sideways glance to Dean. “Oh yeah?”

“Amateurs.”

You and Dean immediately lost interest.

Ed continued, “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”

“Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry finished.

“Really? What have you got so far?” you asked.

“Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”

Sam played dumb, too. “EMF?” You could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Harry gestured to the machine Ed was holding, who turned it on.

“Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg,” Harry noted.

“2.8. It's hot in here,” Ed grinned.

Dean whistled in mock admiration. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…?”

“Once. We were, uh— We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table—”

“By itself,” Harry finished.

“Well, we, we we we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that… it, uh… it changes you,” Ed said solemnly.

“Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work,” Dean broke their stupor. “C’mon, (Y/N).”

He led you and his brother out of the room with the two guys in it. Dean stood behind you protectively.

“What?” you asked him as he led you out of the house.

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbled before seeming to realize what he had just admitted. “And… uh, misogynistic ghosts, and all.”

A smile spread across your face. “Thanks.”

***

You and the boys headed to a diner for some cheap burgers and beer before you decided to hit the road. You couldn’t find any missing persons matching the description of the Jane Doe that had been in the house, nor could Sam find anything on a Mordechai Murdoch. The real man had existed under a different name. You ruled the case a bust, and just wanted to relax a little before leaving town.

“How’s that thing on your leg healing?” Dean asked you, referencing the deep gashes you’d received in Chicago.

“Meh, it’s okay,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s way better than it was a few days ago.”

“Good,” he nodded before clearing his throat. “So? Sammy, you got anything?”

His brother was scrolling the internet in search of a new case when something caught his attention. “Dude.”

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“The Hell House.”

***

Emergency vehicles and officials hurried about, interviewing witnesses and wheeling out a stretcher with a body bag on it. The sinking feeling you got from the Hell House returned to your stomach as you and the boys approached it.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“A couple of cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” explained the bystander. “She was a straight A student with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense.” He walked away from the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” you started. “How could we’ve missed something?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head.

“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” Dean sighed.

You waited for the emergency vehicles to clear out and allow you and the boys the ability to get another look at the house. Two cops remained guarding it, though, to which Sam commented, “I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there.”

You and the brothers were crouched in the bushes, trying to plan how to get in the house. You then heard whispers that caught your attention, and turned to see Ed and Harry clunkily approaching with cumbersome backpacks and gadgets covering them from head to toe.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “I got an idea.”

You shot him a confused look while he stood a little taller and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Who ya gonna call!”

You almost burst out in giggles at his stupid reference.

“Hey, you!” one of the cops called and took off running in the direction of Ed and Harry. The two guys turned and sprinted away. Well, sprinted as much as they could with their heavy packs.

You and the boys rushed into the abandoned house, passing each other weapons from the duffel bag. Dean was transfixed by the symbol on the wall. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!”

“Yeah, me too, but we don’t have much time,” you urged him, slapping a shotgun in his hand and pulling him further into the home. You headed down to the basement and took in your dust-covered surroundings. You could feel your allergy beginning to get aggravated while you looked around.

“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean grinned, holding up a jar he found on one of the shelves.

“What the hell would I do that for?” scoffed the younger brother.

“...I double dare you.”

Sam just shook his head and continued walking.

You flinched and grabbed Dean’s arm at a sound coming from within a cabinet. Dean looked to you and back at the cabinet before the two of you took either side of the cabinet’s doors. At Dean’s nod, you threw the door open. Rats inside it squeaked and scurried away from the light of Sam’s flashlight.

“Arghh!” Dean yelped. “I hate rats.”

Sam scoffed. “You'd rather it was a ghost?”

Dean considered, but nodded. “Yes!” Dean suddenly looked up at something above your head, and you shrieked at the sight of an ax nearly hitting you squarely on your forehead. Dean yanked you away just in time and shielded you with his body protectively. He shot at the ghost of the tall farmer wearing a colorless straw hat that wasn’t at all deterred by the rocksalt. He shot once more, but it was still there. And then the final time, Mordechai disappeared.

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam questioned frantically.

“I don’t know! Come on, come on!” Dean urged you and his brother.

You ran toward the stairs, and Mordechai smashed his ax down through the shelves right next to your head. You raised your gun at him and shot multiple times, praying it would work. Nothing worked, and you narrowly missed another swing of the ghost’s ax before you fled.

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Sam called, running ahead of you. You and the boys sprinted out of the door of the house, only to be met with flashlights and a camera in your face.

“Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commanded before hurrying away again. You and the boys left the Hell House in the dust.

“You okay?” Dean asked you when you returned to the car.

You tried to catch your breath, slumping into the backseat. “Holy shit,” you muttered. “I think so. You?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“But Dean.”

“Hm.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me. I can hold my own,” you told him.

Dean scoffed. “It’s a misogynistic ghost, (Y/N). I’m obviously gonna be a little concerned.”

You smiled fondly, but held your position. “I know. Just… I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He just grunted in response.

***

The next day, you and the boys were hanging out in their motel room. You and Sam were at your laptops researching while Dean sat on his bed scribbling in a notepad.

“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. What was with those slit wrists? I thought the legend says he hung himself.”

“That’s what you’ve been scribbling all this time?” You looked up from your laptop. “That symbol?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam jumped in, saying, “And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”

“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean added.

“Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.”

“What the fuck?” you questioned, sliding Sam’s laptop over to yourself. “How the hell is he changing?”

“I don't know,” Dean broke in, “but I think I might have just figured out where it all started.”

***

Your next stop was the music store Craig worked at.

“Hey Craig? Remember us?” Dean asked the teen who was organizing records.

“Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?” Craig answered.

“Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” Dean flipped through a stack of records, and you looked over his shoulder. You suddenly realized where he was going with this. He picked up a Blue Oyster Cult album, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you put together the symbol had been the logo for the band.

“You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult,” Dean said, putting the album on the counter across from Craig. “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why 'n't you tell us about that house. Without lying through your ass this time.”

Craig sighed. “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the walls; some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”

You knew he hadn’t meant any harm. “Okay. Thank you.”

You and the boys left an emotional Craig standing at the counter.

“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea,” you responded.

***

The next morning, you and the boys headed out to get some breakfast and coffee. Sam was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds in his seat. “What’s your deal, dude?” you asked.

His response was a grimace before he explained he thought Mordechai might be a Tulpa. “Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.”

“So?” Dean said.

“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam replied.

“Now wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?”

Sam shifted again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“People believe in Santa Claus— how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean remarked.

“ ‘Cause we’re bad people,” you remarked. Dean seemed convinced by your answer.

“And because of this.” Sam turned his phone to you and Dean to show you a photo of a symbol on one of the walls of the Hell House. “That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this; not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”

You shrugged. “That would explain why the bastard keeps changing.”

“Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work.” Sam shifted at least five separate times in his chair as he spoke.

“Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit,” the older brother continued. “Okay. So why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?”

“Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explained.

“Great. So if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

“Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.”

Sam showed you and Dean footage from two days ago. “Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

“Great,” you muttered. “But I have an idea. C’mon.” You got up from the table and began heading away.

“Where we going?” Dean questioned.

“To find a copy store.”

Sam got up and began to follow you. “Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something.”

Dean laughed and walked after you.

“You did this?!” Sam called.

The only response he got was a laugh from his brother.

“You're a friggin jerk!”

“Oh yeah!” Dean pumped a fist in the air.

***

After you hit the copy store to carry out your idea, you and the boys found Ed and Harry’s trailer park residence and rapped against the door loudly.

“Who is it?” Harry’s voice called.

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean called back. When the door opened, Dean looked over the two men’s shoulders. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging— what a shock.”

You snickered,but nudged him. “Be polite.”

“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam said.

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're ahhh, a little bit busy right now,” Ed responded. “But pretty lady, if you’d like to stay—”

Dean cut him off, gruffly saying, “Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website.”

Ed laughed. “Man, you know, these guys got us busted the other night, spent the night in a holding cell—”

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” the other goon chimed in.

“Why should we trust you guys?”

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw that night; what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” the brunet explained.

“That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt,” Dean continued.

“Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe—”

Ed cut his friend off. “Nope.”

“No,” Harry said despite his position moments earlier.

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed stated.

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—” Dean’s face hardened, and you could see Ed and Harry nearly shit themselves.

You pulled his arm back. “Just forget about it,” you told him. “You could bitch slap ‘em both, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna listen. Let’s just go.” You turned away.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the guys called after you. “What’d you say about...?”

“Hang on a second here,” Harry said. “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”

“Don’t tell ‘em, (Y/N),” Sam said.

“But if they agree to shut the website down, Sam—”

“They're not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean chimed in.

“No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it,” Ed said, stepping closer to you.

You sighed. “Look, it is a really big deal, alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”

“Totally,” Ed nodded.

Dean handed over some paperwork you’d doctored at the copy shop reluctantly. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself,” added Dean.

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “He shot himself?”

“Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them,” you said.

Dean continued explaining. “Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch.”

Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and bolted back to the trailer. Ed followed more slowly.

Once they were out of earshot, you held up crossed fingers to the boys. “Here’s hoping.”

***

You and the boys were waiting for Ed and Harry to put out the bogus story you’d given them at a diner later that evening. You sat in the booth between Sam and the wall, and looked over at his laptop while he reloaded the page repeatedly. Dean sat across from you and his brother, pulling the cord of a plaque on the wall of a fisherman holding a big fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved up and down when Dean pulled the cord.

You pulled it again to stop it. “If you pull that damn cord one more time, I’ll kill you.”

Dean sent you a challenging look and pulled the cord again. You pulled it again in response.

“Come on, sweetheart, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense.”

“What! I do laugh!” you pouted.

“Not as much as this guy.” He pulled the cord again.

You pulled it to stop it for a final time. “Don’t try me.”

Dean sighed. “They post it yet?”

Sam turned the laptop around to Dean. “We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms. Alright. How long do we wait?”

“Long enough for the new story to spread,” replied Sam, “and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam lifted his beer and you and Dean lifted yours as well. The three of you tapped them together.

“Sweet,” Dean said. He took a long swig of his beer and Sam grinned. The older of the two tried to put his beer down, but it was stuck to his beer.

Sam cracked up, as did you, and Dean stared at his brother incredulous. “You didn't.”

Sam continued to laugh and held up his tube of super glue. “Oh, I did!”

Dean shook his hand trying to get the beer off and turned his aggravation to you. “You knew about this?”

You felt guilty, but said, “Hey, I told you, I’m Switzerland in this prank war.”

“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart.”

“Dean! I didn’t even do anything! I’m Switzerland! Look, I’ll even help you get it off your hand, okay? Stop pouting.”

Dean grunted, “Fine.”

***

Dean bought the laughing fisherman from the diner and brought it to the woods beyond the Hell House later that night. You wrapped the cord around a rock to weigh the pulley mechanism down to lure the cops away from the house.

You entered the house on alert with your gun drawn, Dean trailing just behind you. “I barely have any skin left on my palm,” he said snarkily.

“So you think Mordechai's home?” you asked as you entered another room.

“I don't know,” Sam answered.

“Me either,” a voice said from behind you.

You wheeled around and pointed your gun at the source of the sound.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ed said.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” you yelled.

“We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?” Harry said.

“Motherfucker—” You were cut off by the sound of knives being sharpened coming from the basement. Your guard immediately went back up.

“Oh crap,” Ed said. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, get off me, dickhead.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulders.

He crowded way too closely behind you and followed you and the brothers to the basement door.

“Ah guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?” Ed grinned uncomfortably.

“Why don't you?” Dean turned to him, shooting daggers at him.

Mordechai burst through the door at that moment, holding an ax and screaming. You and the boys began emptying your gun chambers into his stomach, but the guns had no effect on him. You then swept the other rooms in search of Ed and Harry.

“What the fuck, didn’t you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?” you asked them when you found them.

“Of course we did,” Ed scoffed.

Sam and Dean appeared behind you.

“But then our server crashed,” Harry explained.

“So it didn't take?” Dean asked rhetorically.

The two men exchanged looks and murmured to themselves.

“So these, these guns don't work.” Dean laughed coldly and raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Sam, any ideas?”

“We are getting outta here,” Harry said. “Come on, Ed.”

Harry and Ed ran past you and Dean to the other room. You noticed Mordechai’s apparition following them before you heard two girlish screeches coming from their direction.

“Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch,” you told the ghost.

“Gladly,” Ed said, not realizing you were talking to Mordechai.

You grabbed the hilt of the ax as he tried to take a swing at you, pushing against him with all your might. You were then pinned against the wall, the ax across your throat and constricting your airway,

“Get out of here, now!” you told Ed and Harry. They sprinted out of the door as you struggled against Mordechai, who lifted you up in the air by the ax.

“Guys! Help!” you screamed.

Moments later, Dean appeared. He held up a spray bottle and lit it, making a plume of fire appear.

“Get out of here, now!” Dean told you. You ran past him. You met Sam in another room, clutching your throat.

“You okay?” Sam asked you. He stooped to get eye-level with you.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Peachy.”

Dean sped into the room next to you. “Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him— We improvise,” he said. He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room behind you. It burst into flames, and you ran after the boys outside.

“That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works,” Dean replied simply.

“Well, add arsonists to our rap sheet,” you said.

“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” questioned Sam.

“Then we'll just have to come back,” Dean shrugged.

You turned back to the house and watched it burn.

“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz people believed in them,” said Sam. You looked back to him, amazed at how he could be profound in the midst of your situation.

***

You and the boys made one last pit stop by Harry and Ed’s trailer park before you were planning to head out of town. The two guys in question came over to your picnic table carrying grocery bags.

“I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus,” Ed said. “Man, I got the munchies right now.” He turned to the boys. “Gentlemen. And m’lady.”

You cringed.

“Should we tell 'em.” Harry could barely contain his gloating.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades,” Ed smirked.

“So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean snorted.

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”

They put grocery bags into their completely overloaded car.

“And create the RPG,” Harry added.

“The what?” Dean asked.

“Role playing game,” came Ed’s simple reply. “A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, ah, excuse us, we're off to la-la land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you,” you said.

“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed grinned. “And you…” he sauntered up to you. “...Call me. You could have a bright future in film.”

You forced a smile at him.

“Later, baby,” he grinned. He got in the car next to his buddy and sped away.

“I have a confession to make,” Sam said as the three of you watched them drive off.

“What's that,” prompted Dean.

“I, uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”

You and Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat,” the latter snickered.

“And I may have been the one to put the cops on ‘em about the Murdoch house fire. And the fact that they don’t have a license plate on that car. Or on their camper.”

Dean and Sam burst out laughing at you. You joined in with them.

“Truce?” The brunet turned to his brother.

“Yeah, truce,” he answered. “At least for the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth

a lot of my tags are broken which makes me very sad. if you see that i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! and make sure you have my post notifs on so a broken tag doesn't stop you from seeing the next chapter!!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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cupidbedsy · 3 months ago

Text

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 ; 𝘤𝘤22 ୨୧

➪ summary: cole seeks out his best friend for help to ask out his crush, and it takes her a while to figure out its her he's talking about

➪ warnings: reader is oblivious, crying, cole is down bad bad

➪ word count: 5.1k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: i think this might be one of my favorites. i love cole sm and i should really start writing for him more

cc22 masterlist || nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain, rain she'll open up the door and say, are you insane

There was a knock on the door, and y/n jumped up from where she sat in her dorm room. She was living by herself since she needed privacy for the upcoming semester and had a particular way of keeping things clean and organized. She scooted off her bed and landed on the ground with a thud, walking towards the door.

She peaked through the peephole and looked at the person outside in confusion. She pulled away to open the door and gave the boy a wide-eyed smile, “Hi Cole.”

Cole was dripping wet as he stood there. He had run from the bus stop and then had to stand outside the building waiting for someone to either walk in or out, which was an awkward situation to explain, “Hi, can you please let me in? I used to go here and now I play in the NHL, which doesn't matter but I’m looking for my best friend.”

The girl looked at him in confusion, “Um sure?”

And that’s how Cole was here. Wet and shaking from the rain, “Hi y/n/n.”

“What are you doing here? Are you insane? Don’t you have a game tonight? How’d you get in?”

“I needed to see you, I missed you.”

Y/n pulled Cole into her room and gave him a change of clothes, “Let me go throw this in the dryer.”

When the towel was warm enough she brought it back and threw it at him, “Okay now what is the real reason you’re here?”

Cole shrugged, sitting down on the bean bag she had in the room, “I just felt like something was wrong with you.”

“So you missed your NHL game to come to see me because you had a feeling that something was wrong?”

He nodded, now realizing how weird and stupid that sounded. He gave her an awkward, lopsided, smile, “Yeah.”

She shooked her head, a grin making her way onto her face, “You are fucking insane Cole Caufield.”

“Only for you.” He gave her a wink.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

say it's been a long six months and you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want

The past few months had been nerve-wracking for Cole and y/n. They both knew the time till Cole’s NHL debut was decreasing and decreasing. They made the most of it however, spending every waking moment with each other when they could, staying at each other’s dorms, going out to dinner, y/n going to his games. They were never apart unless they absolutely had to be.

Cole’s feelings had only worsened with the more and more they hung out. Every time he would see her his eyes roamed her figure up and down memorizing what she looked like in case one day he would have to pack up everything and leave.

He would see her in his jersey - which she custom-made - when she went to his games, she constantly stole and wore his hoodies every time they were together, they had been telling the whole world they were both unavailable even if it wasn’t true.

Y/n wasn’t the only one who had stolen the other’s things. Cole always had a hair tie on his wrist in case she ever got too hot and needed to pull her hair up or it was blowing in her face and giving her a hassle. He stole some of her larger jackets just because they smelled like her and her scent was comforting. He stole her rings sometimes, the metal around his finger giving him something to fidget with when he became anxious.

As much as they both would love Cole to be in the NHL they were both worried about leaving each other. They had been friends since childhood, always with one another. Their bond strengthened throughout their younger years, each sticking up for the other when needed, and going to each other’s games.

She wore his jersey at World Juniors, and he wore her jersey at her soccer games (both made by her), both screaming out their support. They would wait for each other in their designated spots after each game, running to hug each other once they laid eyes on each other. They always gave one another a small present, a pin or a sticker, or a piece of jewelry.

The last six months they both noticed the slightly growing distance between them. They were trying to lessen the hurt of him leaving when it came time. Cole had been more worried about her than he ever had been before. He didn’t know if it was his best friend’s protective instincts kicking on or if it was the deeper feelings that had made him feel like this.

Despite both harboring unknown feelings for each other, they both knew there was a chance that if the other didn’t feel the same, their friendship could fall apart. They were both afraid of how the outcome would end. Cole’s worries were worse than y/n’s, she had been by his side for so long, never doubting him one step of the way, he couldn’t let his stupid little feelings get in the way of that.

He had been on his way over to her dorm when he received a text from the girl, ‘Bring ice cream and tissues, please.’

His heart broke slightly at the message, confusion plastered on his face. He typed his message in response, asking if there was anything particularly wrong or if something had happened.

She didn’t respond, just emphasizing her first message. Cole sighed at the lack of communication that was going on before turning around and walking back to the parking lot of his dorm to grab his car and go to the store to pick up her favorite ice cream and the soft tissues she had requested.

While he was there, his eyes caught the leftover Valentine’s Day decorations, candy, and other gifts that were severely messed up from the number of times people had gone through them. He sighed when he saw couples rummaging through remnants of the red and pink objects, teddy bears and other stuffed animals, and heart-shaped boxes with chocolates in them. He could’ve been getting them for her.

He did end up buying a teddy bear, one from the kids section and not from the Valentine’s Day spot. He grabbed her favorite ice cream and some apple juice, picking up her favorite chips and cookies as well. If she was upset, he was determined to make her feel better. He picked the softest tissues he could find and when he was walking his eyes caught sight of the book section.

He looked down at his watch before making a rash decision to take a peek down the aisle. He spotted one of the books she had been wanting for a while and picked it up before heading to checkout. He bagged everything before running back out to his car and driving to her dorm.

He was lucky that one of the kids that had lived there was walking into the building when he got there, so he just followed suit behind him. He didn’t want to make her come down and get him when he could’ve easily found a way in. He ran up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator, and knocked on her door.

Y/n sat on her bed, her blanket wrapped around her as she watched her favorite show. She had tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, her nose a little stuffed from the crying she had done. She walked over to the door and opened it, before she smiled at him, “Coley!”

He walked over to her, pulling her into a hug, “Hey, y/n/n. What’s wrong?”

She shook her head before scooting over and patting the bed, “Come sit.”

Cole jumped onto the bed, took the Target bag, and placed it out in front of her, “I got you ice cream, chips, cookies, apple juice, tissues, and that book you’ve been wanting. And I got you a teddy bear.”

Her eyes immediately filled with tears again, clutching the bear in her arms, burying her head into his shoulder, “‘M gonna miss you.”

The boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that Cole. You could get the call any day saying you have to go to Montreal. You could leave any day.”

He frowned and wrapped his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb, “Is that what’s making you upset?”

She nodded, “I don’t want you to go.”

He smiled slightly, “I don’t want to go either.”

The two sat in silence before y/n spoke up again, “It’s been a long six months worrying about this.”

“I know.”

And yet, Cole was still afraid to tell her what he wanted.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and that's how it works that's how you get the girl

“Start with a romantic gesture. Maybe something from her favorite movie, or something cliche. For example, standing in the rain at her doorstep. Or maybe singing a song in front of a large crowd of people. Or maybe doing one of your fears to impress her.”

Cole nodded as he sat on his best friend’s bed, taking mental notes on everything that she was saying. He had come to her for advice on how to ask out a girl that he had liked for what felt like ages at this point. Despite multiple attempts, the girl couldn’t get out a name, not even a hint about the girl, and that was because he could not let her find out it was her.

“Anything else?”

Y/n nodded as she flipped through the pages in her mind, “She will probably tell you that you’re insane for doing something like that, but… it’s cute. A lot of girls would like a big romantic gesture like that.”

“How would you react if someone did that for you?”

She shrugged, “I dunno. I’m not a fan of public things. That’s embarrassing.” She breathed out a laugh, moving her attention to a stack of books she had to organize.

Cole thought, so singing in front of a crowd is definitely out of the question then. He watched as she rearranged her books on her bookshelf, following her every movement. She had started to talk again, unbeknownst to him. She stepped in front of him, snapping her fingers in his face, “Cole! Cole! Cole!”

He flinched, “What?”

“Pay attention, Cole. I’m trying to help you here.”

He nodded and shook his head of his remaining thoughts, focusing on her, “Okay so… how long have you liked her for?”

He shrugged, “A while, I think. But I think I noticed it about 6 months ago.”

She nodded, “And you’ve been too afraid to tell her what you want, right?”

He let out a noise in agreement and sat up fully on her bed, “Yeah.”

“Okay, well if you do what I say. You’ll be sure to start dating her in no time.”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s how it works. That’s how you get the girl.” She patted his head and launched herself onto her bed, “What do you want to watch?”

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

remind her how it used to be, be yeah, with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, cheeks

Cole was unpacking a box his mom had sent to him, things from home that he might’ve wanted in his new apartment. He felt uneasy going back through some of these things, most of them being something related to hockey. When he got to the bottom of the box he saw a few rectangular objects wrapped tightly in bubble wrap.

He pulled them out, moving the box out of his way. He placed them down before unwrapping the first one. He felt the picture frame and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but when he saw which picture it was he smiled. It was from when they were younger, it was their first day of first grade and y/n’s mom made them take a picture. Y/n gave him a joking kiss on the cheek and both y/n and Cole’s mom had captured the moment. He placed it on his nightstand and unwrapped the next one.

This one was similar to the one before, but this time it was one from his and y/n’s high school graduation. They were both in their caps and gowns still and she was leaning over and kissing his cheek. Cole was holding both of their empty diploma cases.

Following that one was another one of a similar pose. It had become one of their signature photos. Every year on the first day of school they would do it, but he had only seen a couple of them. Most of them either lived on an old hard drive or were buried deep in photo albums in one of their houses. This one had been when they had just moved into their freshman dorms and they decided to recreate the photo once more.

He gathered the two frames he just opened and placed one down on the living room table and one in the kitchen. His apartment instantly felt more at home to him. Something to remember his best friend by made him feel more relaxed.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When she visited for the first time she noticed the pictures immediately, “Where did you get these?”

“My mom sent them to me. I had them in my room back at home.”

She nodded and held the one that he put in the living room in her hands, “We were so little… and cute.”

The two giggled at her comment, “You’re still cute.”

“Thanks, Coley. You are too.”

The two both blushed at each other’s comments before sitting in silence. Y/n smiled sadly when a thought plagued her mind, “I miss how it used to be. Everything was so simple back then.”

Cole nodded, throwing his arm on the back of the couch, “Yeah. We were never apart back then, were we.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, “I miss you, Cole.”

“I miss you two, y/n/n.”

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

tell her how you must've lost your mind when you left her all alone and never told her why, why

One week after Cole had left, y/n had fallen into a tiny depression state. They hadn’t gone even a couple of days without seeing each other ever, let alone Facetime each other. Cole had been so busy with flying out to Edmonton making his debut and then having to go to Calgary, before finally being able to settle into his new apartment in Montreal.

She was nervous for him but she was also nervous for herself. They hadn’t got to say goodbye to each other, she had gotten his text while she was in class that he was leaving. She tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail and she felt defeated.

On the flip side, Cole had been anxious, not about himself but about y/n. He knew about how she typically handled things when she was alone and most of the time it wasn’t the best thing to happen. When he finally got a chance to breathe and sit in his apartment, he called y/n and she answered on the first ring, “Hi Cole! How’s your apartment? Everything going okay up there?”

He nodded, a smile tugging on his lips when he laid his eyes on her picture on his screen, “Yeah it’s been going okay.”

“Anyone giving you any trouble because I’ll fly up there to beat them up for you.”

He laughed, “I know you would.”

The two went silent for a few minutes, a slight frown gracing y/n’s face, “I’m sorry.”

She tilted her head in confusion, “For what?”

“For leaving you. Especially without warning really.”

Her frown deepened at his words, “It’s not your fault Cole. You were, are, moving on to bigger and better things.”

“But I didn’t want to leave you, y/n/n. I need you to know that. I would’ve stayed for you.”

“I know you would’ve, Cole. But like I said, you’re doing something greater for yourself. I shouldn’t be holding you back from your dreams.”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but you’re a part of that dream. Yet, he couldn’t get them out. He wasn’t going to be the one to ruin their friendship over something like this, she didn’t deserve it. So he kept his lips shut and listened to her talk about whatever had happened that day, the reason he called, going blank in his mind.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and that's how it works that's how you lost the girl’

“I don’t think she’s into me, y/n/n.”

“What do you mean?”

“I tried what you said but she didn’t even bat an eye to it. She completely dismissed me.”

Sure it was weird for Cole to be talking about his girl problems to y/n when she was the girl he was talking about, but it’s not like she would ever know. Cole was thankful at that moment for his friend’s obliviousness, it came in handy sometimes.

“Maybe she did and she just doesn’t know what to think about it, maybe she’s still trying to figure something out.”

Cole signed on the opposite side of the phone, growing a little frustrated at both himself and her. Why couldn’t he just say how he was feeling, if she didn’t like him then fine they could just move on, try and move past this, “But what if she just doesn’t like me.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything Cole, but did you do anything stupid to make her think differently about you? Or think differently about her feelings toward you?”

“I mean, I did kind of leave her without telling her why…”

“You’re telling me you didn’t tell her you were leaving to go play in the NHL? You just got up and left her?”

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds worse.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “You probably broke her heart, Cole.”

Cole let that thought sink in, the thought of leaving y/n there all alone in Madison with little to no friends. Of course, she had other friends but she was always hanging out with him. He repositioned himself on his bed and placed his free hand on his head, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t mean to hurt her.

“Cole?”

“I’m such a fucking idiot. How could I do that to her?”

Y/n felt heartbroken for him, he sounded so upset with himself for his actions. She was also heartbroken by the fact that Cole had these strong feelings for someone else, someone who wasn’t her. She tried to keep her composure by staying silent, letting a tear make its way down her face. She wiped it before talking again, “Cole, it’s okay. There are ways to fix these things. Did you at least apologize to her?”

“Yeah, kind of I think? I totally have lost my mind, haven’t I y/n?”

She just shrugged, “I don’t think you ever had a mind, to be honest, Cole.”

He forced a small laugh, “Gee, thanks.”

“Has she talked to you since then? About what happened?”

“No. She hasn’t brought it up. She said she supported me after I apologized but that’s about it. She sounded sad but also a little angry.”

She stayed silent for a minute, “I hate to be the person to tell you this but I think you lost her.”

Cole ran a hand over his face in frustration, letting her words hit him like a truck.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and you could know that I don't want you to go

It was the first Friday without Cole and she was sitting in her dorm room. He had made his debut two days ago and she couldn’t even gather the strength to watch his game. She felt horrible about it, she was his best friend, and she should support him through everything.

She watched the movie that they were planning on watching that day, 13 going on 30. It was y/n’s week to choose, hence the reason why it was a Rom-Com. Cole didn’t mind, he would watch every cheesy romantic movie with her if she wanted to watch it.

He had a game that day, but once again, y/n had no desire to watch it. It was just another reminder that he was gone, she could only handle so much. She sat on her bed, the movie playing on the TV with a bucket of popcorn sitting on her right side.

Of course, she had to pick the movie in which the two main characters of the movie were love interests and were best friends. It was like the universe was mocking her of some sort. She couldn’t escape the facts. Her heart sympathized when Jennifer Garner’s character felt as if she lost her best friend to the girl he was getting married to. She couldn’t imagine life if Cole got married to someone else.

It was like a blow to the face watching it. She had the chance to do something but she still sat in her dorm room doing nothing but stuffing her face full of popcorn. Much like Elle in Legally Blonde, when the final scene of the movie came up and Jennifer Garner and Mark Ruffalo got married she threw her popcorn at the screen in frustration, why couldn’t she have that life?

She looked at her phone to see a text from Cole, saying they lost and he didn’t want to talk tonight. He had taken the loss as a burden to himself, being new on the team and not being able to contribute. She was honestly grateful that he texted her that because if he hadn’t she would then have to come up with an excuse on why she didn’t want to talk.

She scrolled through pictures of her and Cole in her camera roll, tears welling in her eyes. As much as she wanted Cole to go and pursue his dreams, the thought in the back of her mind was being selfish, she didn’t want Cole to leave her. They had been together for so long and hockey just ripped him away from her. She had been so supportive of him so she thought she at least deserved a little bit of selfishness.

She threw her phone across the room much like she had done with the popcorn. She sat there crying as the credits rolled across the screen before Netflix gave her more recommendations on what to watch based on the movie, but she was in no mood to watch another romance movie. She rolled her eyes, tears still streaming down her face. She backed out of the menu before putting on a random stand-up show.

He could’ve known that she didn’t want him to go because, in reality, he didn’t want to go either. However, y/n’s mind was like Cole’s and she didn’t want to ruin their friendship due to her feelings. It felt stupid and silly. They had a perfect friendship so why should she ruin it because of her feelings?

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

remind me how it used to be and say you want me, yeah, yeah

The clouds covered a majority of the sky, not a star in sight. The moon was visible every few minutes once one cloud passed by before another one came and covered it. When the moon was shining, it shone right into y/n’s dorm room where she sat in her normal state with her blanket wrapped around her watching her and Cole’s favorite movie.

They had watched it since they were children. Every Friday night Cole and y/n’s families would have one another over for dinner and y/n and Cole would sleep over at each other’s houses depending on where they were that night. They would choose a movie to watch and most likely if they didn’t know, that movie would be the one chosen.

It had been a month since she last saw Cole. She had flown out to Montreal as soon as she was finished with school, going to his games when she could. She had stayed there for a week or two before going back home for the rest of the summer. It being her first time in Cole’s apartment, she noticed the lack of decorations in it, the only thing really there was pictures of her and him.

She looked around her room and a picture frame caught her eye. Cole was wearing his World Juniors USA jersey, his medal hanging from around his neck. They had just won and Cole was beaming and y/n’s lips were pressed firmly against his cheek. The photo they had been recreating since they were 6.

She smiled when she saw it and something clicked in her brain. Cole had three of the same picture just at different times in his apartment, and when she saw them she remembered how they used to be, much like now. Continuing to mentally flip through things she had told him, she remembered telling him to make a grand gesture; singing in front of a crowd, standing in the rain-

“Holy shit…”

She jumped out of her bed, the blanket falling from around her shoulders. She couldn’t believe what she was thinking, there was no way that her best friend liked her. I mean she knew that she liked him but Cole Caufield, liking her? It was one of the most unbelievable things that had happened in her lifetime.

She continued to run through everything and anything that she might’ve told Cole that he could’ve done. Even running through things Cole had done for her that seemed even remotely romantic. He had bought her a book that he knew she was eyeing, he bought her cookies and chips when she didn’t even ask him to. He showed up at all of her games that he could. He apologized for making his NHL debut and leaving her alone at Madison when it wasn’t his fault.

He bought her multiple gifts for her birthday and Christmas, he dropped everything to make sure that she was okay, he made her food when she was feeling down and felt like she couldn’t do anything, he helped her with her homework and helped her study for exams. He did everything for her and she was just now realizing it.

She mentally punched herself in the head for not realizing it sooner. He had done so much for her that basically screamed ‘I love you.’ Why did it take her this long to notice? She was frustrated at herself for not doing something about it. She literally gave him the advice to get the girl but she should’ve been following her own advice and picking up on the cues.

She was quick to book a flight to Montreal and repack her suitcase. She ran out of her bedroom, explaining how much she needed to go see Cole and her mom just gave her a knowing smile before ushering her off with a ‘be careful’ and an ‘I love you.’

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and then you say i want you for worse or for better i would wait for ever and ever broke your heart, i’ll put it back together i would wait for ever and ever

Flying to Montreal wasn’t something she had on her list. But when she had her epiphany she had to see him, she had to get to Cole.

Of course, it was raining when she arrived. She did her best to shield herself from the water but ultimately failed with how hard it was coming down. To her luck, her Uber had dropped her off a block away from where Cole’s apartment was. Instead of waiting to get a new one she just walked there, her suitcase in toe.

She arrived at his house, shivering from the rain. She wrapped her coat tightly around her as she knocked on the door to his apartment. It didn’t take long for Cole to open the door, a bright smile on his face when he opened it, “Y/n! What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Are you fucking insane? Aren’t you supposed to be going on a trip with your family right now?”

“I needed to see you, Cole.”

Cole let her in, stepping aside to create space for her. She stepped in and before she could even think about reaching for her suitcase, Cole grabbed it and moved it in. She was visibly shaking and Cole pulled off his hoodie to give it to her.

He took her jacket, placed it in the drying, and directed her to the couch.

“So what was so important that you needed to fly to Canada to see me?”

“Remember when you were asking me about that girl?”

Cole nodded his head, looking confusedly at her, “Yeah? What’s this about?”

“And you remember what I said to you when you asked?”

“Yeah you told me to say I want you for worse or for better, I would wait forever and ever. I broke your heart, but I’ll put it back together.”

She only gave him a soft smile and waited to see if the words would click. It didn’t for at least five minutes, causing the two to sit in awkward silence. Cole’s face lit up when he realized what she was trying to say, “Are you serious?”

“If I wasn't, would I be doing exactly what I told you?”

Cole stood up and walked over to her, grabbing her face, his thumbs rubbing gently under her eyes. He let out a soft breath, still smiling, “Can I kiss you?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He kissed her immediately after that, both of them smiling into the kiss.

If only y/n was as good at following advice as giving it, they would’ve been in this position so much earlier.

and that's how it worksthat's how you got the girl

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @quinnylouhughesx43

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lale-txt · 4 months ago

Text

❦ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇

where it's just Nanami, you & a heat wave

a/n: my gift exchange fic for @bas-writes ♡ thank you for all the fun prompts, it was SO hard to pick and in the end i mashed a few together. also, as promised, absolutely no angst in this one (added more horny every time i felt the urge which explains the lenght of this...). anyway, i hope this fic will bring you joy, i had a lot of fun writing this!

contains: afab!reader (no pronouns used, ‘cunt’ and ‘pussy’ used to describe genitalia), reader is described as chubby but otherwise with no further details about their appearance, alcohol mention, food mention (not as in food play, just mention of food in general), established relationship, dirty talk, masturbation, oral (reader giving & receiving), fingering (reader receiving), light spanking, choking, praise kink, anal play, breeding kink (no mention of pregnancy or babies), rough but loving penetrative sex, cum play, spit kink if you squint

word count: 7.1k

“It’s not Kuantan.” “It’s with you.”

Nanami closes his eyes, allowing himself to doze off to the steady rattling of the train and the sound of the air conditioning, both harmonizing into a sound he’s looking forward to at the end of every work day: The noises of the city slowly drowning out with each passing station, less and less people on the cart, till it’s only him getting off at the final stop.

It had been your idea–escaping Tokyo, buying the house in the village that is nestled between the shore and the mountains.

It’s like I can’t breathe.

Nanami still remembers your words from that one early summer night, the heat and concrete of the city forming an unforgiving alliance. You were slumped next to him in the izakaya, your weary head resting against his shoulders, maybe one drink too many. He had brushed a strand of hair out of your face that had been sticking to your sweaty temples, allowing himself to cup your face afterwards and drinking you in with his eyes, a thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth.

“We need to get out of here,” he mumbled, almost apologetically, not talking about the izakaya. “I need to get my ass ate from behind in a room with air conditioning on full blast,” you huffed before your head dropped down against the tabletop with a small groan. Nanami laughed quietly, one hand coming to rest in the back of your neck, rubbing it soothingly. Both of you had a point, but only one of you would probably remember this conversation tomorrow.

You had sent him a link the same night, after he had walked you back home to your apartment and made sure you had everything you’d need in the morning on your bedside table–water, ibuprofen, some fruit and a fully charged toy, knowing you well enough by now. His phone went off while he was sitting in the back of a cab, silently cursing out the mission he had to leave for early in the morning, when all he wanted was to feel your body pressed against him in his sleep.

Nanami couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head again when he saw your name in the notification. Of course you wouldn’t just go and sleep like you promised him with slurred words when he kissed you goodnight. He tapped it, expecting another cat video that reminded you of him, or some newly opened café you wanted to try out together.

To his surprise it had been a link to a realtor website.

He swiped through the photos, showing an older but freshly renovated house, secluded a little up the shore. A traditional Japanese house, one of those you get when you seriously start thinking about settling down. It came with a garden from where stairs lead down to the beach; the yard clearly had been neglected for many years but still looked beautiful in its own overgrown way.

Strangely enough, as he was swiping, Nanami could picture the two of you together in every photo. You’ve talked about it before, the whole ordeal of moving in together, but life as a sorcerer was busy and unsteady and so the thought had always been pushed to somewhen in the future, whenever that might have been.

Now, apparently.

Nanami called you the moment he was out of the cab, walking up the stairs to his apartment. You picked up immediately and for a few seconds neither of you said a word.

“You don’t think it’s crazy?” “No, I don’t.” “You know it’s not just a drunk idea, alright? I’m serious, really, I mean… yes, I am drunk, but–fuck– I’m actually serious. You gotta believe me. Nanami Kento. You know that, right?”

Nanami couldn’t help but laugh at your drunken antics, the bite in your voice and yet how softly his full name rolled off your tongue, as if it was the sweetest treat you’ve ever tasted. God, he was so utterly, devastatingly in love with you.

“I know, darling. I know.” “It’s not Kuantan.” “It’s with you.”

One month later, in the midst of summer, you moved in together.

Between long appointments at the bank, scrubbing dust off every corner of the old house and stacked-up moving boxes, the love between you bloomed into full blossom. Just being able to wake up next to you was enough for Nanami to get up at the crack of dawn, facing an endlessly long commute into the city when work called for it (though they assigned him missions in the outskirts of it more frequently now, which didn’t change the fact that work was still shit).

Actually, he didn’t mind the commute. He finally had some time to read all the unread books he had collected over the years, some of which you had recommended to him when you weren’t even dating yet. On evenings when he managed to leave work on time, he would also stop by at a bakery and snatch a big bag of goods for half the price, which he’d bring home like a trophy, making your eyes light up like magic.

Life was good. It’s like you reminded him of that, putting back the colors into it again–maybe more than that, allowed him to dream again.

Nanami opens his eyes again when the voice over the speaker announces the last stop. It was still so bright outside, the longest days of the year just around the corner. The air was humid and heavy, but felt more bearable by the seaside than in the concrete city. He slips off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves as he walks up the hill back home, already yearning for you. He thinks about making a quick detour to the corner shop to pick up a watermelon on his way, but decides against it.

He really, really wants to see you.

You had been on his mind all day, even more than usual, and the summer heat clearly had gotten into his head and into his crotch, thinking about the way you looked like in the sheets when he left this morning. The covers pushed off you because it was too hot, too sticky, revealing every curve of your soft body. Nanami had to bite back a groan. You looked like a deity, with your legs spread, revealing the bite mark on the inside of your thigh that he left the night prior, still dripping–god, how were you still dripping, that’s so unfair–and blinking at him slowly when he leaned down to kiss your forehead goodbye. You fell asleep again a few heartbeats after that, oblivious to how his cock stiffened in his pants from the sight of you.

He was tempted to quickly rub one out before he left for work, but he decided against it.

No, he wanted to feel all your holes clench around him tonight, filling you up to the brim and hearing you beg for it. He wanted to bury his cock so deep inside of you till your body remembers the shape of him. Wanted to hear you pant and moan underneath him, his hands digging into your supple flesh till he leaves a mark.

Nanami had never considered himself touch-starved. Of course he had known the pleasures of a warm body next to him in bed, but he never allowed himself to get too close. As if he could burn more than just his fingers if he got too greedy. It had always been easier to keep a distance, to suffocate every burgeoning feeling like a flame. That is, until you waltzed into his life.

Now he finds himself longing for you even when you’re just in the other room, where he can hear you rummaging around and humming and occasionally calling out for him (most of the time when you found a hidden treasure while unpacking a moving box). It’s like he’s drawn to you, unable to stay away, like the moon to the tide. When his arms wrap around your waist, he feels as if he’s holding his whole world in it. You, who tore all of his walls down with such ease, with your hands wrapped around his poor, pleading heart.

To be devoured by your love had been the greatest pleasure of his life.

The streets are pretty empty except for a few stray cats (Nanami always slipped a handful of treats for them in his pocket before he left the house in the morning) and the occasional chatter the breeze carried from the homes he passes by. It’s one of those unbearably hot summer days where everyone would slowly feel alive again once the searing sun starts to set and the air doesn’t feel as suffocating anymore.

With every step up the hill, Nanami could feel the excitement grow in his core, the distance between your two bodies growing smaller with every heartbeat. He can already picture you in bed, the same way as he had left you in the morning, stretched out like a lazy house cat, probably nose deep in a book, unless you were napping for the third time today with the fan running on full blast.

Good, he thinks. You of all people deserve to rest. You’ve done enough.

When he opens the gate to the garden, a wave of contentment washes over him. Always does ever since you moved here together, as if things have finally fallen into place as they should. Right time, right place, right person. Nanami has never felt so sure about anything before. He walks around the house, noticing how you had opened all the windows to let some air in now that the end of the day brought some relief from the heat.

Nanami doesn’t call out for you when he takes his shoes off by the entrance and folds his jacket neatly over the back of a chair; he already knows where to find you.

It will never not take his breath away, seeing you like this. You look so damn enticing. Lying there on your stomach, spread out in linen sheets and wearing nothing but one of his shirts, unbuttoned, just loosely thrown over your form, revealing more of your curves than hiding them. The fabric barely covers your ass and from the way one of your legs is bent he can catch a glimpse of your cunt as well, looking as plump and tender like it did in the morning. God, the temptation to just dip two fingers into you and make you fall apart before anything… he can feel his cock stir slightly just from thinking about it.

He smiles when you put your book down and glance at him over your shoulder, catching his eyes as they–slowly–peel away from between your thighs.

“Hi, bird,” he murmurs. The mattress dips under his weight when he crawls on top of you, his hands sliding over yours, one knee hooking your angled leg just an inch higher, his half-hard cock nestled between the valley of your cheeks. Nanami kisses the side of your neck, up to your jaw, biting down gently for a moment when you arch your back for him, searching for more of that sweet friction. You never hold back in showing what you wanted from him, how you want him, and who was he to withhold that from you?

Though, of course he wouldn’t give it to you that easily.

One hand cups your chin and tips it up till his lips meet yours, melting into a delicate kiss; definitely not chaste but not devouring either, not yet. He is sure he could get drunk just from your kisses; they have a way of stirring up a hunger within him that only you could sate.

“No overtime today?”, you ask once he releases your chin from his grip again and your cheek sinks down on the pillow. He kisses the back of your neck, tasting salt and you, something so sweet and alluring it makes him want to sink his teeth in your flesh on some days. A low rumble escapes his throat, both from arousal and annoyance, the latter because he does not want to think about work right now.

Not when you’re pinned underneath him like this, just as he had imagined it all day.

“No,” he replies and licks a stripe up your neck, ending with a kiss behind the shell of your ear. “Saved that all for you tonight, love.”

Nanami can feel your juices leaking into the fabric of his trousers from where his crotch is pressed against you, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. Something primal in him just wants to take you, to sink his cock into you till you feel him deep inside your stomach, to hear you whimper while he stays nestled inside of you for hours. To watch his cum drip out of your cunt, only to shove it back inside again. It would be so easy to give in to that, but if there’s one thing Nanami has plenty of, then it’s self-restraint. Lucky or unlucky, that was for you to decide.

“You have no idea how divine you looked this morning,” he mutters against your skin, trailing kisses from the back of your neck down your spine, his shirt that you’re wearing slowly slipping further down your shoulders. “With your pussy still dripping for me from the night before…”

He rolls his hips in the tiniest motion, only enough to let you feel how hard he was for you already. The small whine that escaped your throat tugged on the corners of his mouth.

Trying to keep your composure. How sweet. It wouldn’t last long.

“I missed you,” you utter quietly, when he slowly peels the shirt away from you, exposing your bare form to him. Nanami could never get enough of this moment, your softness in all its glory, every curve of your body, how it folded and melted underneath his big hands; at times he’d think you're a piece of art that only he had the honor to lay his eyes on.

There was also something about you being naked underneath him while he was still fully dressed, and you making a mess out of him despite barely being touched. Nanami growls a little as he sits up slowly, his lower half still pressed against you, but his hands now sliding from your arms between your shoulder blades, till they settle on your hips, pulling you flush against him. He bends over and trails more kisses down your spine. He could kiss every inch of your body and it still wouldn’t be enough to satiate him. Never completely full, always yearning for you. He doesn’t mind. Not when it’s you.

“Missed you too, my darling,” he whispers, feeling you twitch from the sound of his voice. “Couldn’t get you out of my mind all day. Not that I wanted to. Just so damn hard to focus when all I could think about is how pretty you looked with my hand in your hair and your lips around my cock last night. Took me so damn well down your throat.”

He reaches for a big pillow and gently taps your hips for you to raise them. Fuck, the way your back arches. Nanami can’t help but run a knuckle over your slit, having it on display for him like that. You are so wet already. He slides the pillow underneath your stomach and takes a moment to drink you in with his eyes. You’re so stunning, it makes him feel as if the air was punched out of his lungs.

All for him. All his.

Nanami’s hands wander to the back of your thighs, just barely below your ass cheeks, spreading you open like a book. His cock aches painfully in his pants from the sight of your exposed cunt, glistening and dripping. He allows himself a few heartbeats of admiration, knowing how it must feel like hours for you, on full display like this; he can tell from the way you squirm underneath him, eager for his touch. There’s no doubt you’ve been craving him all day just as much as he did.

Did you touch yourself while he was gone, trying to get the leftover bits of hunger from last night out of your system? Humped your poor pillow, imagining it was him? Did it leave you unsatisfied, the absence of his fingers, his cock, his mouth all over you?

All of it doesn’t matter now that he is here.

Nanami leans down till his breath is fanning over your cunt before he pulls you an inch closer onto his face, licking a painfully slow and long stripe from your clit up to your hole. He moans when he tastes you, a guttural sound, all desires pooling below his navel. He’d have you in this position for days if he could and it still wouldn’t be enough.

He repeats what he was doing a few more times, till your moans grow more needy and he lets out an airy laugh against your wet folds. You earn yourself a sharp slap on one ass cheek, then on the other; not hard enough to bruise but enough to make heat coil where his hands landed. Nanami presses a few kisses on each, thick fingers kneading the pain away till it melts into pleasure.

“So good for me,” he rasps before turning his attention back to your cunt, his hands still spreading you open. His tongue circles your clit before sucking it gently, loving the way it makes you mewl underneath him. “Can’t wait to fill up this needy cunt. Fuck my cum in you till you’re full.”

One thumb collects your juices and comes up to play with your puckered hole, circling around it, the first digit resting against it without pushing it in yet. It makes you whine.

“In here, too.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall apart under his tongue, your hands clawing into the linen sheets as you moan his name. Nanami loves the sound of it, loves how you ride out your high with his face between your thighs, loves how the insides of your thick thighs are dripping by now from his spit and your arousal. He’ll have you sit on his face later tonight, Nanami thinks, desperate to feel those thighs shaking around him as you cum once more.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed he allows you a second to breathe, admiring the sight before him while gently stroking the area around your ankle. Nanami has this habit of always needing to touch you when you are within reach. Any body part would do as long as he can have some skin contact. He just likes to feel you close, to be constantly reminded that you’re here with him. Does that make him touch-starved? He guesses so. But it’s alright, because it’s you.

You slowly push yourself up before you turn towards him with the smug smile of someone who just traveled to the stars and back. Nanami pulls you towards him with a quiet laugh, one hand in the back of your neck when he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips and his tongue.

“Eager, aren’t we?”, he murmurs when your fingers loosen his tie and work down the button row of his shirt, but he doesn’t hold you back; of course not. He closes his eyes and leans his head back when you kiss down his jaw, lips brushing over his five-o’clock shadow before they find his throat, sucking a mark on the side of it–close enough to his collarbone, where it can be easily hidden from a certain co-worker who would otherwise not let go about it. His shirt and his tie land on the floor with a soft thud.

Nanami groans quietly when your hand cups the prominent bulge in his pants, stained with your slick and drips of precum. The sound of his belt being unbuckled draws his eyes back open again, meeting yours. He can see the silent pleading behind them, how you yearn to have any of your holes finally filled. Greedy. Nanami licks his lips when you unzip his pants, fingers kneading his stiff cock with longing.

“Want me to return the favor?”, you ask in a low voice, lips on his neck again, close to his ear. Nanami sucks in a breath. You don’t have to ask twice.

“Lay down on your back. Head over the edge,” he instructs and watches you do as he said. His eyes rake over your form again. How did you get so perfect? If he could, he’d carve every curve of you into marble just to live in this moment forever. How many hours has he spent with his head against the softness of your tum, with your hands running through his hair, releasing every ounce of stress from his body? It’s like you were made for him.

Made for each other.

“You’re beautiful,” Nanami murmurs with a gaze so warm it could melt glaciers. One of his hands strokes your cheek while the other reaches for his throbbing cock, not bothering to take off his pants completely, just enough for it to bounce free. From your upside down view it looks even more massive. Nanami can feel your hungry gaze on him when he pumps himself lazily above you. His fingers trace from your cheek down to your throat, as if to measure how deep you’re gonna swallow him soon enough.

He lowers himself so he can be on a closer eye-level with you, bending over you to kiss you on the open mouth. So pretty. So obedient.

“You’ll let me ruin you a little, love, won’t you?”, he whispers, pushing his thumb into your mouth to open it up wider. The way you whimper softly in response, sticking out your tongue, has him even harder. Fuck, he feels as if he’s gonna burst any second if he doesn’t feel one of your holes twitch around him soon.

Nanami leans down once more, cups your chin and lets a thick bead of spit fall onto your tongue. With a small tap against your cheek he tells you to swallow it, a satisfied smile playing on his lips when you do so, immediately sticking your tongue out again. Ravening.

He pumps himself again, tempted to just give in to the seething heat in his stomach and spill himself all over your pretty face, but it would not be worthy of the sight in front of him. You need to be properly worshiped for hours. Again with the self-restraint. Instead he grabs a handful of your breasts, kneading the supple flesh of them, while slowly guiding the tip of his cock against your lips. He lets out a low growl the second your tongue swirls around him, licking up the precum leaking from it.

It would be so easy, to just push himself inside, to make you choke and gag around his length; but Nanami takes his sweet time. When you eat, you savor every bite. And so he inches himself inside your hot mouth slowly, rolling his hips ever so slightly as your lips stretch around his cock.

“Taking me so well,” he huffs, pulling his cock out and giving it a few strokes to cover it fully in your saliva. You whine in protest when he leaves you empty like this and Nanami clicks his tongue, followed by a quiet laugh. Your plush thighs rub together to chase the throbbing in your cunt, one hand of yours rubbing small circles against your clit.

“So fucking needy.”

He gives you less time to adjust when he pushes in again but he knows you can take it. Everything he gives you, you accept so willingly; especially when it was his cock shoved down your throat. You gag around him when he bottoms out, holding still for a moment before he pulls himself out again, a thin thread of salvia connecting your lips and his leaking tip. Fuck. He was so pent up and so close already.

Nanami lets go of your tits and slides his hand up to your throat instead, wrapping around it. He doesn’t tighten his fingers around it, just lets them linger there, caressing your soft skin gently. Underneath his grip he can feel his cock plunging in and out and the tiny vibrations caused by your moans. He always loves fucking your mouth, especially in this position; being able to watch the canvas of yours, how you play with yourself, your cunt probably dripping and aching to be filled like this, too. Poor thing, just one hole stuffed not enough for you. The thought makes his cock twitch, barely holding back anymore.

He hasn’t even cum once, but is already thinking about what positions he’ll have you in later tonight. On your knees, your hands restrained behind your back with his tie maybe. One hand tangled in your hair while you blow him, glassy eyes looking up at him when you take his cock down your throat again. He could have you ride a toy while doing so, just for the pleasure of watching you fall apart upon it, whining that it wasn’t enough, that you needed him. God. One day, you’ll be the death of him.

“Stick your tongue out for me, darling,” he murmurs, voice gentle yet commanding. You cough for air a little when he pulls his cock out, only to suck his balls into your mouth a moment later while he fists himself above your face. The grip on his cock is so tight that the veins on the back of his hands and his forearm are showing. Eventually he comes with an unrestrained groan, spilling himself all over your face and your chest, panting heavily.

“That’s it, love, take it… so good for me…”

His cock is still twitching when you start lapping up his cum, eager to not let a single drop go to waste. He uses the moment to kick off his pants and briefs that were dangling loosely below his hips by now. It was too hot in this room anyway and what you two were doing wasn’t exactly helping with cooling down. Maybe one day you will have your wish fulfilled of getting your ass eaten from behind with the air conditioning on full blast, but today is not the day.

Nanami helps you sit up on the mattress again before he joins you there, kneeling between your spread thighs. You left a big stain from where you were fingerfucking yourself while he was buried in your throat. Big hands come to your waist and dig into your soft flesh, pulling you closer till you’re almost straddling his lap. You look so alluring, with his cum still warm and running down the valley between your chest, your eyes half-lidded and your lips slightly swollen from being wrapped around his cock. He grabs your chin and tilts your head to kiss you again, tasting himself on your tongue.

“Should I grab you some ice cream from the freezer to suck on while I fuck this needy cunt?”, he asks, sliding one hand from your waist between your thighs, running two fingers between your folds. You’re so wet for him.

“Your fingers will do,” you quip back, biting his bottom lip slightly as you put your hand above his, guiding him where you wanted to feel him. Two of his fingers slip inside you without any protest, he doesn’t have it in him to starve you of them any longer. Your head tips back into your neck in bliss, eyes closed as his digits curl up against your walls, rubbing that spot that makes your head spin. As you get closer to your edge again, your fingers curl around his wrist as if to stop him from removing his fingers too fast, too soon.

“Close,” you murmur and sigh sweetly when Nanami leans closer to kiss the side of your neck. He mutters praise against your sweaty skin while you rock back and forth on his fingers, a third added for extra pleasure. His thumb draws lazy circles around your clit, knowing you’re still sensitive from your orgasm prior. He loves watching you come undone from the lightest touch.

Your slick is running down his wrist by the time you clench around his fingers in waves, your own fingers now tangled in his hair as you ride out your high. Nanami keeps his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of the sight unraveling before him. You look so stunning with your brows knit together, your mouth hanging a little loose, panting and moaning without any restraint. His cock rests hard and heavy against your soft stomach as he slowly draws his hand back, accompanied by a quiet whine of yours.

“So damn beautiful,” he whispers once again when he pushes you down gently onto the bed. Everything Nanami does, he does with utter care and this applies to you, too: Brushing a few loose strands of hair out of your face that were sticking to your temples, a pillow slid behind your head (with the cool side up), eyes scanning over you for any sight of discomfort. Your legs fall apart so easily for him, inviting him in. It’s quiet in the room, except for the sound of your heavy breathing and the ocean shore in the distance.

“Fuck me,” you beg quietly, your eyes not leaving his gaze either. Sometimes Nanami can’t help but wonder what you see when you look at him. If you get the same wondrous feeling in your chest that’s impossible to grasp with words. Something beyond life, beyond love. A whole universe coming apart at its seams just so the two of you could meet in this lifetime.

With one hand planted next to your head, the other around his cock, he guides himself between your spread thighs, the tip nudging your wet folds apart; so warm, welcoming. Made for him. His jaw clenches when you pull your heels towards your ass so you can lift your hips better, leaving him no other choice than to sink into your heat. It’s not like he could have waited any longer anyway. He’ll never get used to how tight you are, he thinks when you clench around him, so needy and sensitive.

His free hand comes to the other side of your head onto the mattress and he gives you a sharp thrust, making you mewl. He stills inside of you, then slides his cock out almost completely and painfully slowly, till it’s barely just the tip, and then slams into you again. The way your soft body bounces underneath him with each thrust has him breathless.

“So fucking tight. So perfect for me, darling,” he mutters as one of your hands spread your folds further apart, eyes trained on where you two are connected. The other rests on your soft tum, pressing down below your navel where you can feel him every time he bottoms out inside of you. Nanami’s lips find yours again, a small smile on them when yours part for him, his tongue slipping into your mouth. The kiss is hot and messy, all of your moans swallowed greedily by him, one of his hands coming around your throat again.

“Harder,” you murmur, your legs now wrapping around his hips to pull him closer. From this position you’re now almost folded in half underneath him. His fingers around your neck twist a tiny bit tighter, which makes your cunt throb. Nanami sucks in a sharp breath. He is already getting closer to his edge again, the heat of your cunt filling him up and making him feel lightheaded with each thrust.

And your whimpers and moans–shit, Nanami could cum from the sound of them alone.

“So good for me… letting me stuff this pretty little cunt… gods, you’re so fucking wet for me, baby,” he growls, almost like a chant to draw out the edge he was balancing on. You look so perfect underneath him, twitching around him, your eyes rolled back, toes curling, taking everything he’s giving you. Nanami hears his own blood rushing down from his head into his core, an almost primal sound leaving his throat when you cum underneath him for a third time, milking him dry. He allows himself to let go of all self-restraint and follows a few heartbeats after into the aftershock of your orgasm.

His feral side stirs to life again, licking up on him like flames when he spills himself inside of your cunt. How badly he needs to breed you, stuff you so full of him till you’re dripping, fuck you again and again till your body remembers the shape of him forever.

Nanami’s jaw clenches, breathing heavily. His cock doesn’t soften inside of you, just keeps on throbbing with an insatiable hunger.

“Fuck, darling,” he groans, leaning down to find your mouth again. His forehead rests against yours, your breaths mingling. You find yourself drowning in the darkness of his eyes, pupils blown wide, drunk on you. “Can we…?”

You kiss him back and nod slowly, hazily almost. Blissfully fucked out, full and warm of his seed and his love.

Nanami pulls slowly out of you, watching how your hole pulses from the absence of his cock, your juices and his cum leaking out of you. He cups your cunt and smears your release all over the insides your thighs and your soft stomach, watching you squirm, before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. Your chest is still heaving as you try to catch your breath.

By now the sun was slowly setting, dipping the room into warm shades of red, orange and gold, making you look even more divine when you roll over and get on all fours, back arched for him. You look like the most beautiful mess he has ever seen. For a moment he just lets his eyes linger on you, taking in how you dip your fingers inside of you like honey, spreading your cheeks to lure him into taking you mercilessly. A deep, growling sound rumbles in Nanami’s chest when he lines himself up against you from behind once more.

His hands are cupping each of your ass cheeks, pulling them apart to have a perfect view of how he sinks into you again. He sets a harsh pace from the start this time, the slaps of his skin against yours echoing from every wall. You’re so wet, almost gushing with every thrust.

Nanami brings a thumb back up to your puckered hole, spitting on it just for the sake of it, then letting his thumb rest there until you’re practically pushing yourself onto his digit. His free hand kneads the tender flesh of your ass while he stills for a few breaths to give you time to adjust to the new sensation. The sight of you below him takes his breath away once again; your bodies connected, pulsing around each other in the same rhythm.

“That’s it, love… fuck, you’re so perfect…”, Nanami huffs when he slowly picks up his thrusts again, keeping his thumb hooked in your other hole, you moaning underneath him. “Made for taking all of me…”

Neither of you would last much longer, too sensitive and overheated by now, but fuck, he would make this one worthwhile. All he needs for tonight is seeing you come undone on his cock one last time.

Stuffed in two holes, a certain kind of feral lust shoots through your body like lighting, making you tremble like a sacrificial lamb on the altar. Paired with the ferocity of his thrusts it’s enough for your arms to give in and make you toggle over, landing face down in a pillow. Nanami’s free hand comes up to the back of your neck, pinning you down there as he keeps fucking into your throbbing cunt. His thick cock splits you open, pounding into you as if this was his sole purpose, your name falling from his lips in a low and husky voice.

“Cum for me, darling, just let go, yeah? Need to feel you milk my cock one last time… you’re so good, so fucking perfect for me…”

It’s all too much; the tight grip on the back of your neck like prey being caught, his cock reaching deep into your stomach with each thrust, his thumb playing with your ass… it makes you whimper and whine, but oh, you take him so well, like you’re made for him. Your eyes roll back and you let out a primal sound between a moan and a sob, then your whole body tenses and finally releases all this built up pleasure like a firework, making your skin prickle and your mind go blank.

Nanami curses under his breath and follows you over the edge shortly after, pressing his whole body weight into you as he buries his cock deep inside your twitching cunt, filling you up with his cum. It’s hot and thick inside of you, gushing out on the sides of your pussy when he ruts against you, fucking it deeper inside.

His hand on your neck doesn’t move.

“Hold still and be good for me. I’ll cum in your ass, too,” he growls and slides his thumb out, making you whine at the feeling of emptiness. When he leaves your cunt clenching around nothing, only your juices and his seed dripping out of it, he immediately lines himself up against your asshole, pushing just the tip into it before his cock can soften. No, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he filled all of your holes tonight.

“Go deeper,” you plead, whimpering in sheer pleasure when he inches himself into your tight ass. “I can take it.”

Nanami knows you can. He has seen you take him up your ass before, and yet it was still a sight that will make him suck his breath in. So fucking tight. He goes slower this time, not wanting you to tear from the sheer size of him and without having you stretched out properly beforehand; but he’s so fucking overstimulated already anyway, just staying buried this deep inside of you and letting you throb around him would be enough squeeze the lift out of him.

He leans down and kisses your spine before he fucks you harder into the mattress with a few more harsh thrusts, then he reaches his point of no return and cums deeps inside of you again. He slumps down on top of you, face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily against your skin while you hum quietly in a state of pure bliss. You stay like this for a bit, time becoming nothing but a blur.

With the last bits of his strength, Nanami eventually pushes himself up again, pulling his softening cock out and watching his cum trickle out of your hole, down the insides of your thighs into the sheets. Such a big, beautiful mess that you’ve made. He gently kneads the flesh of your ass soothingly before he lays down besides you, holding one arm out for you to crawl in.

Nanami presses a few kisses against your temples and the top of your head when you rest your head on his chest. He’s sure you can feel his heart still pounding, only slowly coming down from his high. His arm wraps around your naked form and pulls you close to him. The sticky heat doesn’t matter at that moment, all he wants is to feel you close. At this moment the whole world is shrinking down to just the two of you, right here, in this golden afterglow.

“I really missed you,” he whispers against your hair, repeating what he had said earlier. He holds you so close, there’s no space for you to wiggle out of his embrace. Not that you wanted to. His fingers brush up and down your spine in the most tender way.

“You’re here now,” you mumble back, your eyes closed as you bask in his affection, only slowly coming back to your senses. You have been sticky and sweaty before, but now you were practically in shambles, your guts rearranged and all three of your holes sore. You let out an airy laugh.

He really devoured you.

You press a few kisses against his chest and his collarbone before propping yourself up on your elbows, facing him. Nanami cups one side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. He already knows that look on your face all too well, and he smiles.

“You didn’t happen to buy a watermelon on your way home?”, you ask and tilt your head to the side, one finger drawing lazy circles onto his chest. The cravings on your face were clear as day.

Nanami chuckles and shakes his head. He should have known better and listen to his guts earlier when he walked home and brought that damn watermelon. He wasn’t the only one with hunger in his eyes, one that could never be fully satisfied. Maybe that’s why the two of you fell in love all this time ago. When you can feast off each other, you never run out of anything else either. Not lust, not passion, not love.

“I’ll go and buy you that watermelon in a minute, for being so good to me,” he murmurs with a lazy smile. The expression you’re showing him right now, with your chin resting on his chest was one of triumph and contentment. Both of you know that he’d never deny you any joy of life, and if it came in the form of a round, juicy fruit, then so be it.

Is he looking forward to leaving this bed and putting on clothes again? Absolutely not. Will he do it for you, anyway?

Yes, always.

When it’s you, anything, anytime.

Nanami’s love for you could move mountains, but for now he is glad to just let time stand still with you; here in this place you both call your home.

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x you #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento

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elletheactualmenace · 10 months ago

Text

You Would do That for Me? - Pt. 2

Pairing: MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!fem!reader

Summary: Todays the day. You and Peter are going to confess your “secret relationship”. How will your best friends take it?

Warnings: swearing, Not in this part but is present in other parts -Verbal assault, Little but some physical assault, Catcalling, Bullying,

Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: Sorry this took so long, lifes been crazy recently. Sorry in advance to any star war lovers. Let me know if I missed any warnings. And also @kaleidoscopewritings19 you asked me to put you on my tag list so here! Im glad I could be of some help, and thanks for being interested in my writing! Anyways enjoy this part!

Thoughts = “Italicized dialogue”

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

“Peter!” Someone calls and Peter turns from his place at his open locker. He sees Ned walking over with a tired smile on his face.

“Hey,” Peter waves before turning back to his locker to pull books out and put them in.

“Guess what?” Ned asks spinning the lock on his locker, which was right next to Peters.

“What?”

“I found it.” Peter stops his movements. And he turns his head slowly to Ned with wide eyes.

“You found it? Like actually found it?” Peter asks in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Ned nods slowly so Peter catches it.

“How? Where?” Peter asks quickly. And Ned pauses, like he’s been caught. Peters brows scrunch in confusion.

“Okay, now, hear me out,” Ned starts chuckling nervously. “It wasn’t the official site, but-“

“You didn’t order it from a legitimate, original site?” Peter asks face palming. Ned really wants a Lego set that has been sold out for weeks, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I never said it was illegal.” Ned argues, opening his locker and quickly stuffing some of his textbooks in.

“So it was a scam?” Peter asks as Ned shuts his locker, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Not a scam.” Ned counters.

“Definitely a scam.”

“No, no, no, Peter, listen to me, I know it isn't a scam, because my cousins, best friends, little brother also ordered from the website and it came." Ned says like he is trying to convince himself.

"I don't think that's a credible source, dude. Have you even met your cousins, aunts, friends, brother?" Peter asks skeptically, raising a brow.

"It was my cousins, best friends, little brother." Ned grumbled out with an eye roll. And Peter puts his hands up in defense.

“The fact that you have to correct him just proves the point more.” Peter hears your voice and before his eyes even meet you butterflies erupt in his stomach. He tries to push away the nervousness and act normal.

“See exactly!” Peter exclamins in your dereliction. Ned leans in close to Peter's ear.

“She’s only agreeing with you because she likes you.” Ned whispers in an annoyed voice. Immediately Peter's face goes bright pink in embarrassment. He hits Ned's arm and steps away from him so he can rub the back of his neck. Peter begs anything that may be listening that you didn’t hear Ned.

You couldn’t like him. He isn’t your type. You deserve someone who’s confident, handsome and in your league. All the things Peter doesn’t excel in.

“My point proven,” Ned says quietly. Peter begs anything that may be listening that you didn’t hear Ned.

Before Peter can form a rebuttal the bell rings. He sighs still embarrassed trying to look anywhere but your face.

“Okay come on you five year olds, let's stop arguing about credible sources, and whose brother said what.” You put your hands on both Peter and Ned's backs, pushing them to their first period. The second your hand meets the fabric of Peter sweatshirt his whole body stiffens. Peter tries to ignore the fact that you’re touching him, and focus on walking.

——

“You would- do that for me?” Peter's heart is pounding, he can’t believe this is happening. There is no way that you are asking him if you can be his girlfriend.

When the words fall from his mouth he really wants you to reply with something romantic like “I’d do anything for you,” and then kiss him till he feels dizzy, but he knows his wishful thinking is only that, a wish.

“Well, I mean, sure. And anyways, you’d keep the creepy guys away from me.” His eyes grow impossibly wider.

What is happening? Did he do something? Are you messing with him? Why in the world would you, Y/n Stark, be asking little nobody Peter Parker to be your boyfriend?

Peter’s mouth is agape and he's trying to figure out how to speak. He can’t form a sentence with everything running through his head.

“God, Peter stop being an idiot for once and say something to her! She's waiting.”

“I- I-“

“Just spit it out, Peter.”

“I would love- to be your boyfriend Y/n.” Peter sees your shoulders untense and drop before a smile is plastered on your face.

“Really?” You ask him and he nods so fast it gives him whiplash. Of course he wants to, how could he not. He wants to pour his heart and soul out to you right now, for fucks sake.

“Yeah.” He replies with such a big smile it hurts his face.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” You blurt out. Peter hesitates before asking, not wanting this beautiful moment to so quickly fade.

“Why would I say no?”

“Well- umm- i don’t know.” You shrug awkwardly. Peter blinks waiting for an answer.

“I donno, I thought maybe you would think it would ruin our friendship.” Peter nods in understanding.

“But- but I want you to know that this is strictly pretend. And for the benefit of both of us.” You comment quickly, trying to explain the rules of the agreement.

Peter's heart is hit with a pang of sadness. He wishes it was real with all of his heart. But for now, he has to be happy at the opportunity to even pretend to date you. After all, you asked him. Not Ned, not some random guy, him. And god, did that make his heart swell.

“Yeah, of course.” He says, nodding quickly.

“Okay good.” You say, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Peter only nods with a smile. His face may be calm and collected but his heart is doing flips.

“When- when will this,” he pauses, not sure if he can use the word he wants to use. “Relationship being? Or sorry- when will we- you know, start?” Peter asks in a jumble of words.

Your brows furrow. You didn’t get that far, unfortunately. You tap your chin in thought.

“Umm…not sure. Tomorrow maybe?” You say, still thinking.

“Tomorrow!?”

Peter thinks as panic, excitement and horror sets in. He’s happy but nervous, everything is happening so fast.

“Yeah um-“ his voice cracks and he curses the puberty gods for being so cruel.

“Sounds good.” He says more calmly this time.

You outstretch your hand to shake his, he does the same.

“Okay. Tomorrow it is.” You say with a smile. “But before that, I think we need to clear a few more things up. Just to make it convincing.”

Peter nods in agreement, trying to look as smart and put together as you are right now. But in reality he’s just happy you haven’t stopped shaking his hand.

——

Peter's day has been crazy. When he woke up this morning he hadn’t and couldn’t have thought or dreamed up anything that’s happened.

First, almost missing the train, second getting humiliated in front of the whole class, he could’ve thought that up, but, you being there to hear it and then standing up for him? He couldn’t believe it. And second, which happened to be more unbelievable, you asked him the question he’s been trying to find the courage to ask you. But even better, you skipped right to boyfriend and Girlfriend. You skipped the awkward dating and testing the water straight to holding hands and cuddling.

Obviously he didn’t mean that that’s what was going to happen, but one could only hope. And even if the hand holding wouldn’t happen at least he could call himself your boyfriend.

He always tries to stay level headed whenever Flash is like that. He doesn’t want it to get to his head, that could affect his productivity and performance in both school and as Spiderman. It also helped to know that Flash looked up to Spiderman and thought he was cool, that made the tension in his fist easy up whenever Flash said something dickish.

Overall, Peter has had a great day. Now he is laying in bed after patrol, his mind is racing with a million thoughts a second. He still needed to process everything that happened that day.

You and Peter had discussed and decided to keep the bid up around Ned and MJ. You both concluded it would be more convenient and convincing if they believed it too.

You also talked about the backstory. You would go to school and pretend like you were both coming clean about your hidden ‘relationship’ after a couple months of not telling them. You’d confessed to ‘falling in love’ with each other over Summer break. And after a while decided to ‘try it out’. And here you were.

It was a perfect plan. You and Peter had in fact spent a portion on summer break together at your Dads beach house. Ned couldn’t go and a family emergency kept MJ from coming. So you and Peter were alone. It’s the perfect setting for a fake love story.

Peter knew that Ned would be so mad that he wasn’t in on the secret relationship. He needed a good cover for that. After all, Peter told Ned he was Spiderman, and you still don’t know. Hopefully he could also make sure Ned didn’t tell you any secrets that didn’t need to be shared. Like the fact that Peter has a big fat crush on you. And has been crushing for quite some time now.

If Ned slips that piece of information to you, you’ll know he actually likes you. It would be awkward. And obviously Ned will think you guys or together so it doesn't matter, because you both like each other. While, in fact you are only doing this for the mutual benefit of the both of you, not because you like him like that.

God. He had so much to prepare for. And you stayed late, making his patrol rounds run later. He's exhausted, but he can’t sleep until he comes up with a way to protect his fragile ego.

You on the other hand aren’t as anxious, you have a plan. Kind of, it's more like a detailed outline with missing chunks. But a plan nonetheless. You know what you’ll say to MJ when she gets pissed at you for not telling her. And you know what you’ll say when she eventually forgives you for not telling her and then asks about all the details of your relationship.

You know what you’ll say, and you are prepared. You just hope it won’t come to her asking if you two have gone farther than a kiss.

——

“We got this.” Peter whispers to himself as he waits for you at the school’s entrance. His head is down in thought. Mind and body both anxious.

“Definitely got this.” Peter jumps at the sound of your voice. He didn’t sense you at all. Not that it would trigger his Peter tingle, like aunt May liked to call it, because you weren’t dangerous.

“Sorry,” you apologize “didn't mean to spook you. But we do got this. We’ll be fine.” You say reaching up to rub his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

Peter's body stiffens and you pull away, not trying to make him more uncomfortable. But in reality he was just nervous around you.

You pause, a little worried about him.

“You know we don’t have to do this Pete.” You smile softly.

“No, no, no, no, no.” He rambles out quickly, “We do- I mean we should.” He stumbles over his words.

“I'm good.” confirms, and he takes a quick breath and nods to you. You nod back smiling at him.

“Okay then,” You say, sheepishly offering your hand to him. “Let's do this.”

Peter’s hand slips into yours and his heart beats so loud he can hear it. From the looks of it, you aren’t as in awe as he is with the two of you holding hands. But why would you? You’re not really together or anything.

You and Peter walk down the hall in silence, both anxious of the awkward conversation that's going to take place. Peter's head spins and he keeps his eyes down avoiding any human interactions, trying to think. He thought about this all last night, sure, but one night to think about something this big isn’t a lot of time. You probably just want the help you need as soon as possible.

“Wait,” the thoughts in his head stop for a second as something dawns on him. “What is Y/n getting out of this fake relationship?”

He felt so stupid for not thinking about it before now, and he felt like an asshole even more for not asking you. What was going on in your life, that you needed a boyfriend to fix? Were you getting made fun of too? Or was it worse than that?

He tries to think back to last night, when you asked him to be your fake boyfriend. What had you said? His mind is scavenging through everything from last night.

“Okay, calm down Peter. Just think. What did she say? How did the conversation start? She had to have said the reason at some point.

She said:

‘I could pretend to be your girlfriend at school and stuff. Then no one would ever give you a hard time,’

Then I said:

‘You would do that for me?’

Then she said:

…

What did she say after that? Oh god, what did she say?”

Peter panics. He has been so wrapped up in his own gain, that he forgot he was supposed to be helping you too. There was something you needed him for. But he couldn’t remember.

Peter opened his mouth to ask you, worry and guilt, replacing the previous anxiety. There was a pit so deep in his stomach he swore he could throw a rock in and it would take an hour for it to hit the bottom.

He lips part ready to ask, but he doesn’t get to, because his eyes catch sight of MJs worn down Converse All-stars. He lifts his gaze to meet MJs. He can’t bring it up right now.

“Peter?” She asks, “You good? You look like you did when you first found out Y/n doesn’t like Star Wars.” MJ informs.

You laugh at MJs comment and it makes him turn to look at you. He’ll have to ask you about it later. Right now you both have to “come clean” to your two best friends.

“Yeah, umm” He clears his throat, “I'm good, sorry, just thinking.” MJ keeps her eyebrow raised as Ned walks over butting into the conversation.

“Also, why are you and Y/n holding hands like you're on a date?” You again laugh, but this time awkwardly.

“Well,” You smile shyly, Peter squeezes your hand lightly, letting you know he's here for you. You give him a soft smile and a nod of appreciation. “We have something to tell you guys.”

“Yeah,” Peter adds on with a smile. Ned and MJ give each other looks before turning their focus on your and Peters intertwined hands. MJ squints, deep in thought, and Ned looks between the two of you quickly.

“Don’t tell me,” MJ eventually sighs, she's come to the conclusion after “close” inspection.

“We’re dating.” Peter confirms, anxiously looking at his two friends and then to you.

“We have been for a couple months now,” You add, “We’ve just been waiting for the right time to tell you.” You say stepping closer to Peter.

“WHAT?!?!” Ned screams. You flinch slightly, as does MJ and Peter. “And you didn’t think to tell your bestfriend?!” Ned lowers his voice when he notices all the eyes on him from people in the hallway. But the anger in his voice doesn’t waver.

“I-“ Petter stutters, not knowing what to say.

“How did it happen?” MJ asks, tapping her foot. She looks a little annoyed. Peter guesses, it's because Y/n hadn’t told her about their secret relationship. “Or what happened?”

“To sum it up real fast for everyone,” Y/n started, “And I can explain it better later, we started dating over summer break when we were at my dads beach house.” Ned and MJ look at you waiting for you to continue.

“We were alone, and I guess it provoked our confessions and, well here we are.” You say blankly, hoping for a good reaction.

“Why didn’t you tell me Peter? I'm your best friend.” Ned asks sadly.

“We just didn’t want to say anything because we were testing it out, in case it didn’t work, we didn’t want to break up the friend group. We wanted to be sure we were serious.” Peter quickly adds on quickly to try to explain the situation. Ned nods, understanding a bit more now.

“So, you too are serious?” MJ asks. You just shrug with a smile, and a smirk grows on her lips “I knew it. I knew something was going on-”

“What are you talking about?” You cut her off, your eyes wide and voice anxious. Peter notices for a second before Ned speaks up.

“Ohh,” Ned says in realization, “So, this is why you-“ Peter rips his hand from yours to cover Ned's mouth, not wanting him to say something embarrassing. Peter's eyes get big and he slowly shakes his head.

“I- Can we talk about this at our lockers please?” Peter asks nervously. Peter quickly nods to you and MJ before walking off.

You are too focused on MJ to see him walk off, but he does see your flustered face. He's too preoccupied to dwell on that right now.

“Oh my god, Ned no.” Peter scolds as they get to their lockers.

“What?” Ned asks, confused. “It's not like it's a secret now, you like her and she likes you.”

“Yeah but,” He pauses and sighs, twisting the lock on his locker. “You can’t tell her anything I’ve told you.”

“Why not? You're together now, what does it matter?” Peter's face flushes, “Ohh, you haven’t told her everything, have you?” Ned realizes.

Peter shakes his head confirming Ned's words.

“And I don’t need her to find them out. So please for my dignity and sanity don’t.” Peter pleads, finishing moving his books from his locker to his bag and vice-versa.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Ned nods, reluctantly understanding. Ned pauses, as Peter shuts his locker and turns to him.

“What?” Peter wonders aloud his eyebrows scrunched.

“I can’t even tell her how long you’ve been crushing? It's not like it matters or anything.” Ned begs with a whine, he wants to tell you so bad, it's so funny, and it was cute to see him so fond of you.

“No Ned, no.” Peter says seriously. Ned grumbles angrily, but eventually nods in agreement.

“Listen, she doesn’t even know about-“ Peter starts before leaning in to whisper to Ned, “Spiderman.” He leans back and continues to talk normally.

“So you can’t tell her anything. At all. I don’t need her freaking out.” Peter sighs, rubbing his temples. Ned nods again.

“Okay. I promise I won’t say anything.” Ned says a little disappointed.

“I'm being serious, Ned. You can’t say anything. Not about him, or about my-“ Peter pauses to blush.

“My crush,” utters quietly. “Nothing at all. I mean it.” Peter continues.

“I know.” Ned rolls his eyes, “My mouth is shut.” Peter nods thanking him. And they both just stand there for a second. After a minute Ned speaks up.

“I can still talk to her though, right?”

“What?” Peter asks, confused at the question.

“Like, Y/n, I mean. You and I are friends and I don’t want to cross any lines or anything.” Ned responds sheepishly.

“Oh my god,” Peter laughs, less anxious now, “Yeah, goodness. I'm not going to make you stop talking to her.”

“You guys are friends, and I'm not a crazy boyfriend.” Peter comments laughing again. Ned starts laughing with him. Peter smiles softly thinking about how much he liked to word boyfriend coming out of his mouth, it rolled off his tongue perfectly, he was a boyfriend. Not just that, he was your boyfriend.

“Right, just making sure.” Ned chuckles, pulling Peter from his thoughts, now feeling less stressed about the whole situation. “You never know.” Ned adds with a smile..

“I'm also sorry for not telling you sooner, Ned.” Peter quickly apologizes. “You are my best friend, so you should have known sooner, I just-“

“It's alright Peter. I get it. It's hard, at least I know now.” Ned responds.

“Plus, now you can tell me about all the stuff you two have been up to.” Ned smirks at Peter who is blushing profusely.

“Ned- we didn’t- I mean haven’t-“ Ned rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Sure you haven’t,” Ned chuckles, “I understand if you don’t feel uncomfortable with-“

“Ned! Oh my god, stop!” Peter stuffs his hands into his face embarrassed. And Ned just laughs as he drags Peter to their first period.

Peter wants to be present and happy with Ned, but he can’t get his mind off of you, and what you said. Or, what you said that he can’t remember. Why did you need to fake a relationship? What did he need to protect you from?

Tag List:

@riordanness

@princess-ofthe-pages

@sunnyx07

@hollandweather

#peter parker #x reader #peter parker x reader #mcu peter parker #mcu peter x reader #Spiderman #peter parker x you

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writtenonreceipts · 2 months ago

Text

Rowaelin Month Day Seven: All Dressed Up @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // Part One // Part Two // AO3

Doesn’t fit in with today’s prompt, but, I did finish this story one year later so...I think that counts for something.

Warnings: nothing major, ~3.5k words

The Words We Share--Part Three

Rowan Whitethorn grew up on the stories of his homeland. Little myths and legends that fueled his imagination since he was a child. It hadn’t taken him long to learn how to create his own stories, how to twist tales and give a voice to his musings. He just never thought it would get him to where he was now.

He stared at the projected numbers for his new release, already there had been two calls for reorders and the official publication date was still a month out. It was set to be his biggest release yet.

And still he felt…unsettled.

If that was even the right word. He could spin a villain’s origin story that could chill anyone’s blood. He could paint the Scotland highlands with vivid accuracy and enchanting detail. He’d won awards and been featured on dozens of sites and bestsellers lists. He’d even been offered an adjunct professor position at the local state college to teach creative writing. But he couldn’t put a name to this emotion roiling through his chest.

Nothing came.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text on the table beside him and Lorcan’s name flashed on the screen.

>>u see this?

A link to the comment section on a website followed. Aelin’s website.

Rowan’s stomach dropped as his thumb hovered over the link. He tried to imagine just what he was getting himself into. He’d experienced his share of feedback in the form of book reviews and he’d seen plenty of other comments from other shows he’d been a part of. But this…this felt different.

He clicked the link before he could second guess himself. And he opened himself up to hell.

It ranged from the usual notes from his fans, those that kept up with his books and how he wrote. And then he found the comments from Aelin’s fans. Which was where he found the crazies. The TikTokers, the influencers, the people who absolutely devoured any form of content with their theories, their headcanons, their passions. Rowan never begrudged a person their hobby, in fact, he encouraged finding something that brought you joy. But this…this…

xxgalaCREWfan99xx: ok but was no one going to tell me ROWAN WHITETHORN HAD A SEXY VOICE?? Do I have to change my reading habits now??

Readingbaebe: Does he write romance at all?? I refuse to read anything else.

TheMidnightBookClub: to much historyyyy YAWN

BOOKS4LIFE: but y wuz there banter so on point?? Talk about sxxxyy!

Letsreeeeead: @BOOKS4LIFE: I KNOW RIIIIGHT? Tlk abt meet cute??

Jdashbywriter: would love to hear more of your craft Rowan! Thanks for your books.

Some of the commentors were not as crazy as others. There was a reason he refused to get a TikTok account no matter what Dorian tried to tell him it would do for his sales. And there was a reason he’d hired an assistant so he didn’t have to deal with any of this.

He reached for his phone, fully prepared to call Aelin and see if she’d seen any of this. He stopped himself. He couldn’t let himself do that. Not after everything that had happened.

Just as he pulled his hand back from his phone, the screen lit up. His heart made an uncomfortable leap until he saw the name.

“What, Fen?” he demanded.

“Dude, I didn’t know you were dating Galathynius,” Fenrys said from the other line. “Congrats!”

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop reading random comments on the internet.”

“But they’re so entertaining! Probably doing my job better than I can,” Fenrys replied.

Indeed, Rowan had made the remarkably stupid decision to let Fenrys be his media manager. It wasn’t that Fenrys couldn’t do a job properly or was stupid himself (an idiot, sure, but that was different) he could. It was only that Fenrys had a different vision for just about everything when it came to his books.

“Please don’t let the TikTok win,” Rowan said.

“It’s just TikTok,” Fenrys said.

Rowan cursed. “I hate you.”

“I’m just saying,” Fenrys continued, utterly unaffected by Rowan’s disdain, “you’re getting more hits on your recent Instagram reels and followers. This whole thing will be good for you.”

Rowan wasn’t sure about that. “Is that the only reason you called?”

There was a pause from Fenrys and Rowan felt a distinct rise in dread. Nothing good came from a silence like that.

“Remelle St. Moore wants you on her podcast,” Fenrys said, the words coming out in rapid fire.

“Oh for shits-sake,” Rowan muttered, “no.”

He remembered the last time he had interacted with the book influencer at a launch party for one of his fellow writers. Between the alcohol and suggestive comments on her part, he’d barely made it out alive. Really, it was because of that experience he preferred to keep to his own group of fans, or too himself.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, but she’s got a lot of viewers,” Fenrys said.

“Which is why I agreed to the podcast with Aelin,” Rowan groused, “at least she didn’t try and grope me at a party.”

“No, you just tried to play hero and save her from being stood up.” Rowan could practically hear the grin growing on his friend’s face. “Which must have worked out really good for you based on some of these comments.”

“I’m hanging up,” Rowan said, “no more podcasts. Or interviews.”

“What if Aelin’s the one asking?”

He hung up before answering.

Leaning back in his office chair, he tried to ignore what Fenrys had said. Especially the bits about him and Aelin. He knew that nothing had happened between the two of them. And nothing ever would. He’d known it even before he stepped in to help Aelin save face after being stood up. That hadn’t stopped him from stepping in though.

He didn’t know what had come over him that night at the restaurant, only that he couldn’t believe someone had stood her up. He hadn’t known it was her, at first. Only that Lorcan and Fenrys were commenting on the fact a woman was dining alone and they were taking bets on what she would do. When he had finally grown tired of their antics, he’d turned to find Aelin swirling a glass of water in her hand looking utterly dejected.

It was a far cry from the Aelin he’d gotten to know over the years. Headstrong and stubborn, wild and untamed, charismatic and independent. Something had shifted over the last eight months, though. He’d been sure to keep his distance, relying on the illusion of finishing his book. It was mostly a lie. His book was going along well, remarkable even. But then Aelin had gotten a boyfriend. And from the sounds of it, it had been everything she’d wanted.

Pining after women had never been something Rowan did, but after Aelin and Sam had gotten together it felt like that was all anyone ever talked about at the office. The only response Rowan could think was to take his work elsewhere. He went back to Scotland to visit his mother, he travelled the continental U.S. He did everything in his power to put some much needed distance between him and Aelin Galathynius.

Which did absolutely nothing.

She had already wormed his way into his manuscript. And like a fool, he’d insisted she read it.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised she never caught on to his rather blatant illusions. She didn’t like him, made it clear. Which was another reason his stepping in at the restaurant was psychotic.

But she was Aelin and there was something about her that he couldn’t ignore or let go. And seeing Sam stand her up? Hell, it made him angry. And Rowan didn’t even know Sam.

Rowan shook his head and shut down his computer. He was being foolish. On so many different levels.

He knew he wasn’t going to get any writing done. Instead, he grabbed his jacket, keys, and wallet. He needed to get out of his apartment even if he didn’t have a destination in mind.

.*.

The manuscript stared innocently up at her. The Times New Roman font was evenly spaced, paper fresh and crisp from the office printer. She’d used Dorian’s own code to print all these pages out so no one would trace the mass printing back to her. Technically she shouldn’t have done this. It was a lot of paper and she wasn’t even on the editorial team for this author.

But Aelin never did like listening to rules.

I thought it was obvious.

Rowan’s words from earlier that afternoon rang in her head. They bounced around in a relentless beat and refused to be dismissed. Because they meant one thing and one thing alone: she had missed something while reading his book. And she didn’t miss things.

So, red pen in hand, fresh coffee on her desk, and a newly printed manuscript before her—Aelin set to work.

Just like with the first time reading Dead Man’s Game, she was drawn into the world immediately. The setting, the characters, the subtle tones of magic all worked to create a plot that gripped her by the throat.

During this reread, Aelin focused more on Celaena. Celaena who was reckless and selfish. Celaena who put her life on the line too many times. Celaena who loved fiercely and didn’t let anyone hold her back. Celaena who killed witches and broke curses.

She stopped reading somewhere around chapter five when something started to prick the back of her mind. Something she’d tried desperately to stamp down all these years. Even the past few months.

Though, it had been easier as of late because Rowan had disappeared into whatever writers’ nook he had. That night at the restaurant had been one of the first times she’d seen him since learning about his new book.

She took a long drink of coffee before she fired a text off to Elide. She needed someone to rant to about this because she had no idea what was going on or how to put into words what she was feeling.

When her phone rang a few minutes later, she picked it up on instinct.

“Elide, did you see what I sent you?” she demanded, still staring at the cliff hanger of chapter five.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t her friend on the other line. It was Sam.

“Aelin.” He sounded relieved, which only made her blood pressure boil. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, baby.”

Aelin glanced at the Caller ID. He must have gotten a burner phone and she’d been too distracted to make sure she knew the number.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said. “I broke up with you, end of story.”

“You didn’t even let me explain—”

“Explain what, Sam?” Aelin demanded. All the pent-up anger she’d been trying to ignore and push aside rose too quickly to the surface. “That you stood me up again without bothering to try and call, hell, even text me? Instead, I was left alone. Again.”

The anger burned away the tears she might have shed. He didn’t deserve her tears; he didn’t deserve anything from her.

“You’re blaming me?” Sam scoffed. “I have a job, Aelin. I’m a lawyer, I don’t get to sit around all day reading books—”

“Lose my number, Sam,” she said, eyes squeezed shut, “or I swear I’ll give your lawyer ass something to work over.”

She ended the call before flinging her phone across her office where it clattered against the wall. The pain that ripped through her chest was more than just anger, but sorrow and pain. She’d wasted so much time over Sam that coming out of it she felt like she was drowning. She was barely treading water, she was—

“Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

Aelin nearly jumped out of her skin at the deep, careful voice coming from the doorway. She spun in her chair, nearly careening out of it at the force, and found Rowan standing there. How much had he heard? How would he laud this over her head? Did he judge her at all for the things she’d said?

“Rowan,” she said, far softer than she meant to. Her skin was blazing over the phone call with Sam and she felt the flush deep in her cheeks, horrified that she was actually on the verge of crying now.

He jerked his chin over to where she’d tossed her phone. “Bad call?”

Aelin huffed a breath. “Sure, if you wanna call it that.”

Rowan stepped into her office, slow and careful as though he expected her to toss him back out. He was dressed far more casual than Aelin had ever seen him. With a pair of dark washed jeans and gray sweater, plain leather jacket—he seemed relaxed and at ease. Not at all how she’d imagined him on a regular week day.

And then, because he seemed to know her so well, he made another comment. “Your boyfriend really seems like a keeper.”

“Not my boyfriend, not anymore.” Aelin didn’t look at him as she grabbed her coffee. It was shocking how good it felt saying the words, like a weight was lifted off her chest. “Just doing some late-night reading, right now.”

Rowan frowned glancing at the manuscript. The title page was tossed to the side so it was obvious what book it was.

“You already gave me your edits,” he said.

“Yeah, but I thought I was missing something.” She shrugged and set the coffee aside. “What about you? Why bother coming here?”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, messing the easy style it had settled into. He didn’t answer her question immediately, choosing instead to fall into one of the chairs before her desk. The movement was so easy, as though he’d practiced it a hundred times, as though he belonged right in that chair.

“Did you see those comments on the podcast?”

Aelin’s brow furrowed. Then, startling not just him, but her too—she laughed. “Oh, Whitethorn, you don’t actually read those comments. Those people are insane.”

“A warning might have been nice,” he grumbled.

Another laugh tore through her, dispelling the sick feeling roiling in her gut. “Oh, poor little buzzard. Are you traumatized?”

“Yes.”

Dissolving into another fit of giggles, Aelin clutched her stomach. She couldn’t catch her breath as she kept laughing. It didn’t help how affronted Rowan look, how confused. It was…it was actually cute. Not that she’d tell him that.

“What’s the madhouse got to say this time?” she asked once she’d gotten a hold of herself. She also reached for one of her desk drawers and pulled out a bag of chocolate she only saved for rainy days. She popped a truffle in her mouth and shook the bag at him.

Rowan declined the chocolate. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re blushing,” she said, leaning towards him. “Oh, I’ve got to see these.”

“I’m not—no—” he tried protesting but Aelin was already motivated to see what had gotten him so riled up.

It didn’t take long to get the gist of what he’d gotten so riled up over.

“Oh, these people need to touch some grass,” Aelin muttered. Many of the insinuations and comments were…out there. Far worse than when she’d interviewed an audiobook narrator known for his smut and spice scenes. And that was saying something.

“You deal with this a lot?” Rowan asked.

Aelin looked at him. “And you don’t?”

“Fenrys filters a lot of them,” Rowan said absently, he paused just a second. “You think I get a lot of these types of comments?”

“I—” Aelin only then realized what her comment sounded like. “You’re a famous author, the crazies exist everywhere.”

She fought down the heat rising in her cheeks while Rowan only smirked.

“That’s it?” she asked, tightly, “you wanted to compare notes on comments? You could have called.”

“Seeing what you do to your phone, I don’t think the call would have gone through.” He met her gaze, green eyes intent.

Hell. He must have heard more of that phone call than she’d have liked.

“Yeah,” she said dryly, “I guess I don’t like phone calls.”

They sat in silence together for far longer than Aelin would have thought possible. She couldn’t help but shake her head at the fact. Drawing a finger over the last few lines she’d read of Rowan’s manuscript; she snatched another truffle.

“So,” she said, “can I ask you something?”

Rowan raised a brow. “As long as it’s not gonna make it on another podcast.”

She rolled her eyes. “No need to fear, buzzard. This is off the record. It’s about Celaena.”

Rowan shifted in his chair. “Why?”

Was he annoyed? She couldn’t quite tell. He wore a frown, that charming shit-eating grin long gone. It was replaced by something guarded.

Aelin drummed her fingers on the manuscript, wetting her dry lips. “She’s based on someone close to you.”

“Close enough,” he shrugged, but Aelin had long ago learned how to read people. He was tense, worried.

“Does she know? The woman she’s based off of?” With far more bravado than she felt, Aelin rose from her chair and came around the table. She leaned against the desk, facing him, and crossed her arms.

“Aelin—”

“Or is she just supposed to figure it out along the way?”

She wasn’t mad, really, she wasn’t. More, shocked than anything.

“To whatever end,” Celaena said, pointing the sword to the horizon where the ship holding her captive lover could be seen retreating. “I will find you.”

And Aelin remembered the last time she’d reviewed Rowan’s book. Where she’d told him to raise the stakes, to let his characters face the unspeakable, to let them be reckless, to let them love. And here was Celaena. It wasn’t just that, but Aelin had shared those exact words with Rowan. That had been eight months ago.

Romance, Whitethorn, should be consuming for a character. Let them have a purpose, let them have a duty to fulfill, to whatever end.

“To whatever end, Rowan?” she asked.

“I’m not allowed to find inspiration in real things or people?” He was still sitting, looking up at her the almost perfect picture of innocence.

She nudged his foot with her own. “Rowan.”

“Why does it matter?” he insisted. He rose from his chair and it struck Aelin then how big Rowan was. He was practically a tree—broad shoulders, thick muscles, at least six feet, probably six-four. Aelin had never really felt small before, delicate, or breakable. But next to Rowan?

She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. She didn’t want to hedge around this question, this tension brewing between them anymore. She would wait out his answer no matter how long it took.

Rowan leaned closer to her, close enough that Aelin could smell the pine and salt on his skin. He was close enough that she could see the flecks of deeper green amid the light in his eyes.

Her heart rate picked up. It would have been embarrassing if she thought about it a little more. But now, all she wanted was for Rowan to answer her.

He shook his head, just barely, and muttered something under his breath. It was something in Gaelic if she had to guess.

“You really don’t get it,” he said.

“I want to hear you say it,” she insisted.

“You really are impossible, you know?”

“So I’ve read.”

A small smile quirked his lips and before Aelin could say anything else, he reached out to run a thumb down her jaw. A shiver ran down her spine with anticipation.

“I like you, Aelin,” he said, thumb still tracing her skin, “and I have for a while.”

Something clicked in her mind at those words, an understanding of sorts and she furrowed her brow.

“Is that why you disappeared for seven months? You were here practically every day and then you just weren’t—” she trailed off slowly as the pieces fit together. “Sam.”

Rowan shrugged as though her words had no effect on him, but she felt the barest hint of pressure as his fingers tightened along her jaw.

“I had a manuscript to finish,” he said, “didn’t help that you hated me and then you were happy with someone else. So, yeah, I left.”

As if on instinct, Aelin reached out and fisted a hand in his sweater. Somehow in the last twenty-four hours since the podcast, the last week since the pseudo-date—she’d gotten attached. Which was both hilarious and terrifying. But was she surprised? No, no, she really wasn’t.

“I was going to tease you for writing romance into your book,” she began, head tilted to the side, “but I think being the brilliant inspiration behind Celaena will be a lot more fun to hold over you.”

Rowan cursed, shaking his head. “I’m never going to live it down, am I?”

“Nope.”

They moved at the same time, coming together in a kiss that Aelin would later describe as the best first kiss she’d ever had. One of Rowan’s hands delved into her hair, the other dropping to her waist to pull her closer. Aelin wrapped one hand around his neck, just as desperate to keep him close.

His lips were hard, bruising against her own, but Aelin couldn't find it in herself to care. All she could think about was the fire burning within at the feel of him, the taste of him.

“You gonna take me on a date first, Whitethorn?” she gasped, breaking the kiss. She shivered as on of his hands slid along the bare skin of her thigh. Wearing a skirt did seem to have its perks.

“Already did that,” he replied.

She gaped at him, ready to tell him off. He cut her off with another kiss, which Aelin supposed was just as well.

In the end, no one would get the real story about what really happened that night or how it happened. But maybe, along the way, a future book would hold some of the details.

end.

#rowaelin #throne of glass #rowaelin month #rowan x aelin #completed project

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pomrania · 6 days ago

Text

Doing what I did last year (and hooboy but that post took forever to find, tumblr is a functional website), and talking about the @200-word-rpgs (it has its own blog now!) that I found interesting, as the compilation post comes out.

Canned Vegetables by @moth-surface I love the concept here, of finding ways to describe XYZ as though it's ABC, while still being truthful. I don't think I'd be able to play this as-is, since I don't know much about different vegetables, and this relies on both parties having a good deal of background knowledge; but I'm glad that it exists.

HEAVY METAL VAN WIZARDS by @henchmaxxing I have a fondness for things where all the stats are individual words from a phrase that describes stuff overall. …and on my reread of this one, for writing it up, I noticed something I hadn't registered before: that your character's stats are assigned by the OTHER players, presumably in accordance with how the character had been illustrated, and okay that's really cool. I also like the mechanic of ties being broken by who can metal scream the best, that's great.

Holy RPG, Batman! by @catsarehumanstoo This is a fun concept. I really like how a particular result comes from the most likely value when you roll 2d6, but especially how that's simultaneously desirable AND undesirable. There's some fun dice stuff there.

Radio Prophets by @toy-dragon I wish my brain was working more (it's nearing midnight) to say how I like this. The very concept, of flipping through the radio for phrases, that's a good one. The idea of interpreting a prophecy, then interpreting its misinterpretation, that's fascinating. Also, the bit about how if nobody responds, you can't try again until something timed by the car stopping; although now I've a bit of a question of whether "next full stop" means "the car comes to a complete stop, like at a stop sign" or "the car is parked and turned off". But I feel that's something which would be negotiated on a per-roadtrip basis.

Rhyme Schemes by @bookoramaenderteeth "Transforming things into things that rhyme with it" is a classic. I appreciate the twist here, where after the power's been used a certain number of times, it has to become a more complex rhyme.

If you're reading this and have no idea what I'm talking about... well I prolly shouldn't have left my "this is what the post is about" to the end, especially not late at night. But basically there's an event going on where people write up RPGs with a word count maximum of 200. If you're curious, check the blog mentioned in the first paragraph.

#no fandom #not a reblog #gaming

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messrmoonyy · 2 years ago

Note

You are nearly single handedly carrying the Tess x reader portion of this website and I thank you so dearly for that and I love all of your stuff

Listen I know it’s the apocalypse and all that they are dealing with, but would you be comfortable doing a Tess fic where she has a strap? Tess and Joel are smugglers so it’s POSSIBLE she could get one…. Right? Right. I’m just going to live in my bubble where it’s possible….

The calm within the storm

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/n- oh my dear sweet anon. Firstly, thank you for reading and requesting! Secondly. Lord. Have a been waiting for someone to fucking request this I have been waITING. I didn’t intend to post this today but. I just- no words. Feral. I was fucking feral writing this. I need this woman. Rn. Immediately. I was going to post at the end of the week and it wasn’t gonna be this but I just have to get this out there so. Here it is. Also. I think this could technically be a slightly younger Tess cause I kinda made her a lil bit soft

Warnings- 18+ || Tess. It’s basically just pure filth tbfh. Plot? What’s a plot. Smut: use of toys, fake p in v ( reader receiving ) , fingering ( reader receiving), tess being the god of praise as she always is, use of the term ‘ good girl ‘, light Dom/sub roles, Tess refers to the toy as hers if you get my drift 👀💀, reader low-key in a subspace, crying, overstimulation if you squint,

Word count- 5.2k of filth

Masterlist - Tess requests open

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated

Rain was hammering against the window panes, so hard you almost worried that the glass might break. The entire QZ was practically on lockdown, a severe storm warning meaning that everyone was being told to stay indoors. The only people really out on the streets below were FEDRA officers, if you focused hard enough you could occasionally see a black speck moving on the street below through the blur of the rain.

You and Tess had debated attempting to head out anyway, but with no one around to blend in with it made things harder. And the officers were clearly pissed about standing out in a storm all day, they’d be far too trigger happy.

So you were stuck inside. Which wasn’t particularly a bad thing, you loved being alone with Tess. But sitting with so much stuff in your stash and unable to go and sell it was enough to put you both a little on edge.

Joel didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact he’d told you both to leave him alone and you knew he’d just be spending the entire time blackout drunk. Or so off his head on pills that he probably didn’t even know what day it was. Which was starting to look like a decent idea for yourself too.

But Tess seemingly had other ideas.

“ I’m so fucking bored “ you sighed, following a drop of rain as it ran down the glass. Tess appeared behind you, arms looping around your waist and chin propped on your shoulder. You leant back into her embrace with another sigh “ I might go piss off Joel just for something to do “ Tess scoffed and pressed her face against your neck, nuzzling her nose at the underside of your jaw.

“ I have a better idea to keep you entertained “ she whispered, pressing a soft trail of kisses across your neck.

“ you’ve got a one track mind “ you felt her smile against your skin and tighten her grip around you, tilting your head a little so she had more access to your neck.

“ you say it like it’s a bad thing “

“ Hm never said that “ her hand slipped under your shirt making you shiver as her cold fingers trailed their way upwards “ cold hands “ she smiled again and stopped her assault on your neck for a moment.

“ I have a surprise for you “ you turned in her embrace, folding your arms across your chest.

“ I hate surprises “ you stated. Because you did. And she knew you did.

“ you’ll like this one. Go sit down. On the bed “ your brow furrowed in mild annoyance but then you sighed, deciding to indulge her. Last time she’d told you she had a surprise for you it had been a crappy T-shirt, one of the cheesy joke kind. A frog printed on the front with the words ‘ okey- Croakey! ‘ above its head. You’d lost against her in a game of cards and she’d forced you to wear it for the whole day.

She’d found the entire thing hilarious. As did Joel. You? Not so much.

You sat down and watched as she rummaged around in her backpack by the door.

“ what are you doing? This better not be another fuckin frog shirt “ she pulled something in a little black bag from her backpack with a proud look on her face, turning to you with a slightly mischievous look in her eye “ what? “

“ unfortunately it’s not a frog shirt- which I have noticed has mysteriously vanished by the way “ your brow furrowed again, confusion painting across your features as she rose to her feet and made her way over to you. She sat down next to you and you waited with a raised brow as she pulled at the drawstring “ now don’t freak out. I know what you’re like “

You thought of a few variations of what could possibly be in the bag. But the actual answer wasn’t even close. Not even remotely.

You couldn’t help the laugh that left you. Some mixture of shock, confusion and intrigue mingling into a slightly manic sound.

Only Tess would smuggle a fucking strap on back into the QZ.

“ what the fuck Tess “ she was smiling like the cat that got the cream. Thoroughly proud of herself for finding it and managing to get it back home without you finding it.

“ I want to fuck you with it “ there she was, always one for being direct.

“ where did you even fuckin find this?“

“ last time we were in Lincoln. Turns out that house we stay in? Two Women owned it. Must be something in the fucking water in that town “ you laughed again at that, still completely baffled by the entire situation “ whole drawer full of shit. This looked the most interesting though, you ever use one?”

“ I’m gonna let you answer that for yourself “ your eyes glanced up at her face for a moment “ have you? “

“ once or twice “ you looked at the mildly offensive looking thing in her hands, curiously eyeing the size of it and mentally trying to guess if it would hurt. The most you’d ever taken was Tess’ fingers and two of them was usually a sufficient amount, 3 if she was feeling particularly cruel. It was a pastel purple which was quite the relief really. It didn’t look real. Less scary than it probably was.

“ Tess I don’t know if I can fit- Jesus Christ “

“ I’ll get you ready… if you don’t want to we don’t have to. It was just an idea “ you didn’t want to disappoint her and you knew she’d never even dare to pressure you into something. You tried to think about it, knowing she wouldn’t let it hurt you. She’d never hurt you. And if you thought about it, this was truly as close as you could ever possibly get to her, your bodies completely connected.

It made your cheeks burn again.

“ it won’t hurt? “ she shook her head, scooching a little closer to you and tucking her fingers under your chin, turning you to look at her.

“ okay well. Maybe a tiny bit just at first. But then it’ll be good. I’ll get you ready. I promise. You think I’d ever do anything to hurt you? “

“ no “ you said immediately, there was nothing in this world you were more certain of. She’d never hurt you.

“ then… what do you say? Wanna try? “ the idea was growing on you you couldn’t lie. You weren’t exactly a stranger to letting Tess have complete and utter control of you, and this seemed like the ultimate surrender to her power. To have her in you. Filling you. Reaching parts of you she’d never been able to before.

You shuffled slightly trying to ignore the uncomfortable damp feeling between your legs.

“ so you’re gonna- you wear it? “

“ mhm “

“ will you feel good too? “ you know she wasn’t really one for being touched. Always the one doing the touching rather than letting you touch her. She’d always been the same. But you were curious.

“ you know I get off on making you feel good “ her voice had taken on that low and sultry tone that went straight to your core and you let out a shaky breath “ but I’ll feel a little something. Some friction you know? But don’t worry about me. This is for you “ she brushed your hair away from your shoulder, her lips returning to their earlier assault.

Your clit felt like it had its own fucking heartbeat, throbbing at the thought of your girlfriend nailing you into the mattress like that.

“ fuck okay “ it came out a little more breathy than you had intended, and she seemed throughly pleased with herself. She smiled again, teeth nipping lightly at your skin in a way that made your breath quicken.

“ just think how fuckin pretty you’re gonna look “ she whispered in your ear, one hand sliding over your thigh and squeezing softly “ gonna look so good taking my cock aren’t you baby? “ her hand slipped past the waistband of your leggings, smirking when she pressed against the soaked patch of your underwear.

“ Jesus Christ Tess “

“ I’ve barely even touched you and look at you “ your hand flew to grab at her wrist as she pushed a finger between your drenched folds, already wound ridiculously tight. Already sensitive. And it was almost embarrassing. Because she had barely touched you, and there you were soaking through your panties.

She used her spare hand to cup your face, bringing you in to kiss her in a way that seemed far too tender for her. That felt too innocent compared to the way her finger was slowly circling your clit.

She pushed lightly at your shoulder and you took the hint, shuffling up the bed and letting her lay you back. Her lips didn’t leave yours once, quite the opposite. They became a little more forceful, hungry. Your entire body felt like it was burning up, nervous energy buzzing through every single nerve ending. Every single place that her body was touching yours was ablaze, electric. Alive.

She pulled herself away and smiled as you tried to chase after her lips, drunk on the taste of her. Your hand reaching out for her neck, attempting to pull her back down but she simply took your hand in hers. She pressed a kiss to your knuckles and then placed it back down.

“ patience baby. I need to get you ready okay?” You nodded, ready to do whatever she asked of you with a split second of notice. She sat back and made quick work of ridding you of your leggings and underwear, then your shirt, leaving you completely exposed under her gaze.

In the past you had felt almost scrutinised under your lovers gaze. But never with Tess. It was impossible to feel even remotely self conscious when she was looking at you like that. Like she was going to absolutely devour you any second. Like no other woman existed on the face of the earth.

She seemed almost desperate to touch you as her head found itself between the valley of your breasts, kissing at every inch of skin she could see.

She was working you up, getting you as relaxed as she possibly could. And you were more than willing to let her, sighing in bliss as her hands and lips wandered. You felt like putty in her hands, soft and malleable to whatever she wanted to do you. Sucking and licking, teeth grazing and nipping as her hand continued it’s way downwards.

You couldn’t help squirming around under her touch and she held a hand to your hip in some attempt to keep you in place, pushing you back down as you pushed your hips up against her thigh in some attempt to get a little friction.

“ Tess- “

“ patience “ she said again with a kiss to your cheek, you huffed in annoyance and she tutted and shook her head “ so fuckin impatient today “ but she clearly wasn’t in much of a mood to keep you waiting really.

She slipped two fingers into you embarrassingly easy, in no mood to take it slow with you. Desperate to have you ready for the toy sitting at the foot of the bed still. She set a steady pace, the sopping sound making your cheeks flush bright red. It was embarrassing how wet you got for her, and how fast.

“ that’s it, need you nice and wet for me “ you pushed yourself against the heel of her hand, searching for some pressure on your throbbing clit. And she let you for a few moments, her teeth nipping at the skin of your neck now, leaving a trail of bruises blossoming in her wake.

You attempted to keep your moans to yourself, failing as usual, as she gently began scissoring her fingers inside you. She watched your face intently as she did, checking that everything she was doing was okay. She was always the same. No matter how bossy or controlling she could be in bed, she never actually wanted to do anything you didn’t like. Your pleasure was always the most important thing to her.

“ don’t you dare come “ she said lowly, noticing the way you’d increased the speed you were grinding your hips up into her hand “ don’t you fucking dare “ it was near impossible not to when her hands were working pure magic between your legs. Your chest heaved in heavy breaths in some hope it would stave your orgasm off.

But Tess knew your body too well. Knew what every single reaction and sound meant, probably better than you did yourself if you were honest. So she knew your tricks and she didn’t want you coming yet. So she simply removed her fingers.

You felt too empty as she withdrew her fingers but before you could begin to complain she was coaxing them into your mouth. She watched you in awe as you sucked on her fingers, your mouth flooding with your own taste.

“ that’s it. Good girl “ she swatted at your thigh lightly with her other hand when she spotted you attempting to rub your thighs together for some relief, giving you a look of mock disappointment “ what did I just say? Do as you’re told “ when she deemed her fingers clean enough she got up from the bed, picking up the toy. You felt too embarrassed to watch her, instead focussing on the ceiling and hoping your cheeks weren’t too red.

You mentally tried to prepare for the sight. The feeling. The intrusion. But found that yes, you were a little scared still, but also incredibly excited.

You felt the bed dip as Tess climbed back on the bed, her warm hands gently pushing your legs apart as she sat herself between them. You chanced a look at her, propping yourself up on your elbows.

It looked a little less intimidating on Tess than it did when she’d first showed it to you. It almost made you laugh at how you’d been scared, but now you were unbelievably curious over anything else. And embarrassed. Incredibly fucking embarrassed.

Which was silly. It was Tess. Just Tess.

You dropped back onto the mattress and covered your face with your hands, an embarrassed groan muffled by your palms. Tess chuckled and you felt her lean down over you, pulling one of your hands away gently

“ y/n “ she was smiling at you as she peeled your other hand away “ Embarrassed? “ she said with a slight teasing tone to her words and you turned your head away, attempting to hide your face in the pillow “ hey hey. No. Eyes on me, look at me “

“ it’s embarrassing “ you said with a little laugh and she rolled her eyes, smile tugging at her lips.

“ I’ve fucked you plenty of times before”

“ not like this “ she brushed your hair away from your face and her eyes scanned over your features.

“ we don’t have to do- “

“ no. No I want to. Jesus do I want to “ you said maybe a little too fast, a little too desperate.

“ okay then. You ready baby? “ it was mildly pathetic how scared you actually were all of a sudden. It was Tess. Your Tess. You had nothing to be worried about “ baby? “

“ yeah “ you breathed out “ yeah. Yeah I’m ready “ you watched her as she licked the palm of her hand before she reached down between you, watching her fingers wrap around the toy. Your cheeks were on fire again, it was practically indecent the way your stomach fluttered at the sight. You craned your neck to watch, gasping as you felt the cool silicone brushing between your folds.

“ hey, eyes up here. Look at me “ your eyes snapped up to meet hers, relaxing a little immediately “ that’s it. Keep looking at me okay? “ you gave a small nod, trying to keep your breathing steady. It hitched in your throat as she brushed the toy lightly over your already sensitive clit “ breathe. If you need to stop you tell me okay? “

“ yes “ you whispered, arousal and desire beginning to cloud your thoughts.

She sat back up, pulling you closer by your hips.

“ spread your legs for me, that’s it keep them there “ she soothed her hands over your thighs for a moment, smirking at the sight of the remaining bruises left there from the other day.

She was incredibly possessive. Always had been. She loved nothing more than littering your skin with marks from her teeth or her fingers. You were hers. No one else’s.

You heart was hammering in your chest as she returned to her teasing, dragging the purple silicone up and down your cunt. It sent a shiver down your spine every time she caught your clit and it only made her smirk. You even found yourself bucking your hips up for more after a minute or so, unashamedly desperate for her to just give you something. Anything.

“ where’s this enthusiasm come from?” She teased and you could do nothing but squirm under her gaze, a pathetic whimper of a sound leaving your throat. It just made her smug look grow even more “ do you want it? “

“ yes “ she had this ridiculous skill of getting you wound up like that, to the point where you felt like an animal in heat. Desperate for whatever relief she would honour you with “ please Tess”

When she deemed the tip wet enough she positioned it at your entrance

“ it might hurt a tiny bit. Breathe through it, relax “ you nodded and she kept her eyes right on yours as she gently pushed into you, eyes scanning your own to look for any sign you no longer wanted it. Your own eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of the unfamiliar intrusion “ that’s it. Good girl you got it “ She entered you ridiculously slowly, allowing only the tip to push past the restriction of your entrance.

She took her time. Easing into you inch by inch, one hand on your hip to keep you in place. Her eyes fluttered between your face and your cunt, wanting to make sure you were okay but clearly also mesmerised at the sight of the toy slowing vanishing inside of you.

She held it there for a few moments, waiting for you to give her the go ahead to keep moving and letting you adjust to the unfamiliar girth inside of you.

“ Jesus fucking Christ “ you breathed out, trying to get used to the odd sensation and the slight burn at your entrance as you attempted to stretch to the size.

“ you okay? “ you nodded your head rapidly, eyes still clenched shut. It was almost overwhelming, how unbelievably full you felt. How deep she seemed to be inside you “ do you need me to stop?” Her hand cupped your face gently and she rubbed soft circles into your skin, coaxing you to open your eyes “ baby you need to talk to me “

“ no no it’s just- it’s a lot. Let me just- “ you took another deep breathe, unable to stop your squirming as your walls clamped down around the thickness of the toy “ okay. Okay I’m good “

She pulled almost completely out, pushing back in until the toy filled you completely again. She remained at a slow pace at first, hands holding your hips firmly as your back arched off the mattress.

“ fuck “ she said under her breath, looking down at you like you were the most incredible thing she’d ever laid her eyes on “ you know how pretty you look right now? “ you’d already slipped past the point of forming coherent sentences, your brain filled with nothing but how unbelievably full you felt. How with every thrust she made it seemed to hit a part so deep inside you, that you hadn’t even been entirely aware even existed.

You needed more. So much more.

“ can you- faster. Tess. Please I just- more “ your broken attempt at a sentence seemed to make some sense to her, her hands sliding over your legs again and settling back on your hips.

She picked up the pace, settling herself into a rhythm that had your breasts bouncing, a string of embarrassingly vulgar sounds leaving your throat. The room was filled with the sounds of you. Your moans. The ridiculously wet sound coming from between your legs. And Tess’ own heavy breaths.

It felt filthy. But in the greatest way.

“ look at you “ she she said with more joy on her face than you’d ever seen, smiling down at you as your hands twisted into the bed sheets and you attempted to muffle your moans in your pillow “ look so fucking good taking my cock don’t you? Huh? “

“ Tess “ you whined her name at the poor indecency of her words, ears ringing as you tried to focus on staving off your orgasm as long as possible. But it was near impossible. All you could think about was the bruising sensation of the toy pressing hard against your cervix with every single thrust she offered you.

“ doing so well “ she praised “ taking me so well “ you were chasing your orgasm now, knowing you wouldn’t actually get it until she said you could. But you were going to try either way.

You moved one hand down your body, circling the sensitive nub of your clit in a desperate attempt to get off.

“ I don’t remember saying you could touch yourself “ you held her eye contact in some way of being defiant, rubbing yourself faster even if just to prove a point “ are you that desperate?” She grabbed at your hand and you gasped as she moved back over you, pinning your hands down above your head “ I asked you a question “

“ please Tess “ you whimpered, wishing she could feel the way your cunt fluttered around the toy that was still buried inside you. She shifted her hips to press even further into you in a way that was almost painful, a squeak of a sound escaping you.

“ I thought you were being good “ your hands twisted in her grasp but she had always been stronger than you.

“ i- I am. I just need- please I need- “ Her eyes scanned your face for a few moments before seemingly deciding on something.

“ I got you “ she slipped out of you so suddenly it made you whimper at the loss “ be patient “ she smirked, kissing you in a way that took your breath away again. She pulled away far too quickly, making you chase after her lips again as she moved away. Which only made her laugh. You watched her carefully as she positioned herself sitting back against the headboard, beckoning you towards her with her fingers “ come here “

You didn’t need telling twice.

You were up and straddling her lap in a second, gasping when your sensitive cunt brushed against the now warm length of the toy.

“ you’re gonna be a good girl and ride me “ she instructed. And it was enough for another pathetic whine of a noise to leave your lips “ okay? “ you nodded, already reaching between you and wrapping your fingers around the now sticky silicone “ someone’s eager “ you nodded, brain too foggy to form a coherent thought never mind form a sentence “ Tell me “ she said, hands gripping tightly at your waist to stop you before you could go any further.

It was mean. To make you talk. To make you attempt to speak when your brain was absolutely frazzled, filled with nothing but a desperate aching need to be filled by her again.

“ Tess “ you whimpered in some hope she’d just feel sorry for you and not make you talk. Of course you weren’t going to get off that easy.

“ do as you’re fuckin told “ she nudged her fingers under your chin, an eyebrow raised “ come on. You can do it. Use your words “ she dragged her thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it snap back into place again with a smirk “ tell me how much you want it “

“ so bad “ you whispered, eyes closing and cheeks flushing with heat “ need you so bad Tess “ you didn’t need to look at her to know she had that stupid smug smirk plastered across her face, enjoying it far too much.

“ need what? “

“ fuck Tess “ you dropped your head to her shoulder and tried to clear the embarrassment and fog clouding your thoughts “ I can’t I- “

“ yes you can “ she cooed, a hand brushing over your hair “ one little thing and then you can fuck yourself on my cock again. Isn’t that what you want? “ you nodded weakly “ then be a good girl and tell me what you need “

“ need you to fuck me “ you whimpered into her neck “ please I need it so bad “ usually she’d had made you say it again. Say it louder. Repeat it until you were practically begging for your life for it.

“ good girl that wasn’t so hard was it? “ you took that as your go ahead, lifting yourself before sinking slowly back down with an almost dreamy sigh.

There was less restriction the second time around, the deliciousness of the stretch still there but the uncomfortable burn no longer present. You sank down until she completely filled you again and you were seated flush against her thighs.

The way Tess was watching you was enough to make you come on the spot. No one had ever looked at you like that. Like you were some mythical creature, a goddess walking amongst mortals. It spurred you on to put on a show for her.

“ and don’t you fucking come until I tell you “ she said with a warning squeeze to the flesh of your hips.

You anchored yourself with your hands on her shoulders, rising up again and setting yourself into a steady rhythm. It felt filthy. Entirely too erotic for you to even comprehend, the sweat making your skin slick as your thighs pressed against hers, sounds reminiscent of a fucking pornstar escaping your lips.

Her fingers were pressing harshly into your skin, guiding you up and down on the phallic shape between her legs, you knew you’d bruise tomorrow but you didn’t even care. You wanted her to bruise you. To mark you. You needed a lasting reminder of the moment, needed to be able to glance down at the purples and blues on your skin and feel the ache in your cunt.

You felt primal, completely and utterly consumed by the woman beneath you. the short and quick breaths leaving her everytime you dropped down, the harness clearly brushing wonderfully against her everytime, were like music to your ears.

“ you look so fuckin pretty like this “ she said for what felt like the millionth time, but you’d never get bored of it. She was a little breathless, her eyes not looking away from you for even a second “ you’re so fuckin good for me arent you baby? My good girl huh? “

“ yes “ you whined, rolling your hips in some attempt to rest your legs as your thighs began to burn with the effort. Her hands shifted to grab at the globes of your ass, urging you to slow down a little and go at the pace she wanted.

“ that’s it baby, like that. Just like that “ the all too familiar pressure in your belly was beginning to grow stronger by the second and you knew you didn’t have much left in you. Tess knew you far too well and even though she couldn’t feel the way you were squeezing around the toy, she clearly saw it in your face “ you want to come? “ you nodded your head, head falling back and eyes closing as she kept guiding your hips.

“ yeah. Yeah. I’m almost there but- I don’t think“ she gave a small nod, understanding and shifted herself under you a little so she had some leverage.

“ I got you. Don’t worry “ you gasped, the air leaving your lungs completely as she thrust up into you. The feeling all the more intense than the previous position, hitting a new spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“ fuck Tess “ you whined, eyes squeezing shut and head dropping to her shoulder. Her hand slipped between you, a squeal escaping your throat as she began circling your clit with her fingers.

“ you wanna come for me? Hmm? Gonna come all over my cock, huh? “ you couldn’t form words, desperate pathetic whines the only thing that would pass your lips. Her thrusts were so deep, so hard. It made your vision blur, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes “ look at me. Baby I need you to look at me “ you reluctantly lifted your head, your neck feeling as though it were made of lead. Your forehead pressed against hers and she increased the pace of her fingers against your clit, still slower than you wanted but you weren’t about to complain “ you know what you need to do if you want to come baby. Don’t you? “

You nodded weakly, tears now slipping across your cheeks at the sheer overwhelming feelings she was eliciting in you. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time “ ask me “ she said even though you already knew you had to. It was stupid of you to ever think she’d let you even think about coming without getting her permission first. You just hoped she wasn’t going to make you wait any longer, silently praying that she was in a generous mood.

“ please can I come? “ you sobbed, teetering on the brink and just needing her little push to send you over the edge.

“ go ahead baby. Come for me “ it was instantaneous. The most powerful orgasm of your life knocking the breath from your lungs, nails digging into her shoulders in way you were certain was drawing blood. Tess whispered praise in your ear as your body shook on top of her, moaning so loudly they’d probably hear you on the other side of the zone.

Her words stuttered a little as you came through the latter end of your orgasm and you got the feeling your squirming around had been enough to push Tess over too. She wasn’t even remotely as loud as you. In fact it was a miracle if she ever made any noise at all above stuttered breaths.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, catching your breath and letting the fog clear from your mind. Tess pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, erasing the tears that had fallen from your eyes in the softest way possible. The hand that had been firmly gripping your hip, now trailing softly up and down your spine.

“ you did so good “ she said softly “ knew you would “ you hummed an answer cupping her face in your hands, placing a kiss to her forehead, her nose, her lips “ are you okay? “

“ so fucking okay. Jesus “ she smiled and kissed you again, before gently easing the toy out of you, hushing you gently when you flinched at the feeling.

“ you okay to move? “

“ my legs are fucking dead “ you said with a giggle that made her laugh too, shaking her head slightly. She wrapped her arms around your waist and shifted you to snuggle into her chest

“ that’s okay we can stay here “ one of her hands came up to cradle your head, holding you close to her “ we need to take another trip to Lincoln soon. I wanna see what else is in that fucking drawer “

All you could do was laugh.

#tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos #the last of us #tlou #Tess tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction #smut #x reader #x you #Anna torv #fluff #lesbian #lgbt #other characters for exposure:#Joel miller #Ellie Williams

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e-dubbc11 · 1 year ago

Note

for the song lyric prompt, I'm presenting you the super classic 'with or without you' with the most incredible obsessive love presence and our fave obsessive man: billy

My dear Selene,

I love this song, it’s one of my favorites! Thank you for sending this one in. My head has been wrapped around writing for Rumlow the past couple of weeks and I’ve missed writing for Billy so I hope you like what I did here

Thank you again!

With or Without You

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.3k-ish

Summary: You see a picture of Billy that you’re not very happy with

A/N: This is one of my favorite songs even though I don’t like U2 all that much.

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

He was so stubborn but you were too.

Billy Russo made you absolutely crazy. No other man frustrated you like he did but you’ve never loved anyone as much as you loved him either which is why seeing that picture of him online kissing another woman shattered your heart.

The ache you felt in your chest was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It was betrayal on another level as tears pricked your eyes scrolling through social media and stopping on a grainy picture of Billy’s lips locked on someone else’s other than yours.

It was from the event that you weren’t able to attend with him because you didn’t feel well.

He told you, “Of course it’s alright, sweet girl. Just get some rest, I love you.”

“I love you.”

Those words were hard for him to say at first, he had never said them and meant it until he fell for you. That’s what he told you, so how could he do this to you? Just like it was difficult to give his heart to someone, it was hard for you to give your heart away too.

All of the others had no problem taking and taking from you but in the end you were alone with a feeling of emptiness from the pieces of you they selfishly took with them when they left.

Against your better judgement, his too, you both opened up your souls to each other, leaving your hearts vulnerable to everything you worked so hard to protect.

Sometimes it was so hard to live with him, even though you didn’t physically live WITH him. The long hours, the constant worrying about him, hoping he was alright taking on so many jobs, and the exhaustion plastered all over his face…you’ve never known anyone that worked as hard as he did.

You didn’t want to live without him though. Billy made you crazy, fights with him made you want to rip your hair out, his jealousy sometimes got out of control but yours did too, hence the rage you felt burning inside your body right now.

You wanted to find that woman and tear her limb from limb, break all of her fingers that were holding Billy’s head in place while she kissed him, and make sure she never messes with another woman’s boyfriend again.

Several texts from Billy came through as you continued to stare at the photo, tears stinging your eyes like stars burning against the night sky.

“Please talk to me, sweet girl.”

“I really need to talk to you.”

“I love you, baby…please answer me.”

Newspapers and websites marketed Billy as an “eligible” bachelor, even though he was in a relationship with you. They built him up to be a local celebrity. From humble beginnings to a handsome successful CEO, Billy Russo was the object of every woman’s affection and you knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating him but you thought you could handle it.

And you could, until now. You didn’t want to break up with him but you couldn’t look at him or talk to him right now, it hurt too much.

Seeing that photo broke you and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the house that day. The caption for the photo made you breathless with anger and caused your mouth to tighten.

“Where’s your girlfriend tonight, Billy Russo?”

**********

Dark gray clouds blanketed the early afternoon sky while the autumn winds blew around the sparse branches of the trees down below. You could feel the draft coming into your apartment from the weakened seals in the windows that your landlord said he was going to replace months ago. Thankfully your favorite sweater was keeping you warm as you sat down on the couch to enjoy a cup of hot tea.

Loud raps against your door startled you before you could take your first sip, almost spilling the tea into your lap.

“Baby, open the door please! I know you’re home, you haven’t left the house all day.” He said loudly so you could hear him from the other side of the door.

How does he know that? Was he spying on you?

“I don’t wanna talk to you right now, Billy!” You shouted.

Suddenly, the front door flew open and crashed against the wall. Billy had told you before that your front door should be replaced because of how old it is.

Well, he wasn’t wrong and now it definitely needs to be replaced but you were furious because of how far he took it. Just like the door, he was unhinged. But again, that’s Billy. Always quick to fly off the handle.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!!” You yelled. “ARE YOU INSANE?!!”

You stood up and set your tea on the coffee table as Billy walked over to you.

“I’m not leaving until I explain myself, y/n! I know you’re angry, I know you saw the photo but that woman kissed ME, alright?!! Yeah, I had more to drink that I usually do at these things but I was upset that you weren’t with me last night!” He confessed.

You stood there looking at him with a confused look on your face. You had been to a lot of these fundraiser events with Billy, why was he so upset about you not being at this one?

“I wasn’t feeling well, Billy. I said I was sorry and you said it was ok! Go in my room, the dress I wanted to wear is still hanging on the edge of the door, I didn’t do this on purpose!” You exclaimed.

His expression softened and he was visibly upset, but he wasn’t angry.

Billy lowered his voice. “I know you didn’t, I just…had something planned, that’s all. And I pushed her away as soon as her lips touched mine, ask Frankie.”

You could tell Billy felt terrible for what happened and you…believed him.

“She had been following me around all night. I’m so sorry, sweet girl, I’m sorry.” He said softly.

“What did you have planned, Billy?” You said, remembering what he mentioned a minute ago.

He ran his long fingers through is ebony colored hair and brushed his beard as he paced back and forth, looking very nervous about what he was going to say next.

“I was gonna ask you if…if you would move in with me.” He said.

You felt your stomach drop and start to flutter. Your eyes welled up with tears, happy tears this time.

“Billy…I—I” You started to say.

He interrupted you. “I know we’re together most of the time but on nights that we’re not, I don’t like going to bed alone or waking up alone. I don’t like being without you. I love you.”

Billy inched closer to you, close enough to inhale the scent of his cologne and you felt his warm breath on your lashes.

You snaked your arms around his neck and gazed into his deep brown eyes. “I love you too, handsome. You make me absolutely nuts but I’d rather be with you than without you, so my answer is yes.”

Gently scraping your nails against his scalp, you pulled him closer so you could kiss him which he gladly returned. He loved being touched by you, and only you.

“I told you that you needed a new door, that thing was easy to kick in.” He chuckled.

You playfully slapped his shoulder. “You lunatic, I’m gonna get in so much trouble for that! I know I’m gonna be leaving anyway but you owe me a new door, Mr. Russo.”

He kissed you on the forehead. “I’ll get you a new door, baby…I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Through the storm, we reach the shore

You give it all but I want more

And I'm waiting for you

With or without you

With or without you, ah, ah

I can't live

With or without you

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #ericca answers #ericca’s 400 follower celebration #thank you!!#ericca and selene

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cha-melodius · 7 months ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @ninzied for the tag!

How many works do you have on ao3?

120!

What's your total ao3 word count?

1,371,932

What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB, TMFU, Lokius

Top five fics by kudos:

Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood

Nova, Baby

Class(room) Warfare

All the Old Showstoppers

Always Where I Need To Be

Do you respond to comments?

I try. I used to be very good at responding but my backlog has gotten extreme (1491 unanswered comments as of right now, if you're curious) so at this point I pretty much only answer if it's a chapter in an ongoing multichap, or someone asks a question.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have a caradin fic that's straight up a break-up fic with no resolution, but I still feel like my angstiest is probably Black Moon (napollya), because they're in love but the situation is so fucking bleak. Sorry guys.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Any of them that end with a proposal lol? I've got a lot of fluffy fics and all of my long fics end with pure fluff, so I don't think I could pick out one.

Do you get hate on fics?

I have been lucky not to really get any, at least lately. I've gotten... less than polite comments, of course, but no outright hate (knock on wood).

Do you write smut?

Yes, although I would not say it's an integral part of my writing tbh.

Craziest crossover:

Craziest might be Maybe, This Time, which is a Mandalorian/BSG crossover that involves dimension-hopping lol.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've had a few of my TMFU works translated and now there's someone in the RWRB fandom that translates most (!!) of my fics into Mandarin, which is mind blowing and flattering and I'm so grateful because I've gotten comments from people who have read them translated and loved them.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet!

All time favorite ship?

I don't think I can pick one; some of my past ships are just that—past—but there are a few I will carry in my heart forever.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

If I want to finish it, I will, even if it takes a long time. I might stop wanting to finish a wip, but that's not the question is it?

What are your writing strengths?

Banter/dialogue, action, pacing, plots. People have told me that they can picture my scenes like a movie because of the description and that makes me feel good.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Although I have my moments, I don't really tend to think of my writing as beautiful. I'm just not that poetic/lyrical.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Sure! If it's in my own fic I usually have a native speaker look over it (I haven't done this lately but I have gotten Russian consults for TMFU fics).

First fandom you wrote in?

Xena: Warrior Princess, back when that show was airing. Fanfic primarily distributed over internet mailing lists and posted on your own website.

Favorite fic you've written?

Stealing Nina's idea and doing one in each of my main fandoms I've written in because it's hard to pick (even then this was rough).

Nova, Baby Series—Spy AU, Firstprince

Love is a Losing Game—Chess AU, Napollya (SHOCKER I KNOW)

What Makes a Good Man Series—Spy AU, Lokius

Here It Goes Again—The Mandalorian (Caradin but mostly Din character study in a time loop)

I'm not sure who's been tagged and who hasn't or even everyone who has done this, but a few tags below the cut. If you'd like to do it, jump in!

@kiwiana-writes, @rmd-writes, @three-drink-amy, @cricketnationrise, @14carrotghoul

@leaves-of-laurelin, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @inexplicablymine, @firenati0n, @liminalmemories21

@orchidscript, @sparklepocalypse, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @mirilyawrites, @heytheredeann

@nicijones, @justabigoldnerd, @myheartalivewrites

#about my writing #about my fics

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spookymystery67 · 1 month ago

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I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: I apologize if the format looks any different for this chapter. I had to post it through the app which I hadn't done before, but the website WOULD NOT copy-paste like it usually does so I had to try it out here. And I'm sorry for the wait everyone. I truly am trying to get myself together. I don't know why writing is so hard to do right now, but believe me, I'm sick of it too. I want my motivation back! Anyways, this chapter is just slightly shorter than the new average word count of my chapters lately. Still over 2k words, so I call that a win for my unmotivated ass. I figured the ending of this chapter was a good point to stop so I could get something out for you all. I still can't believe so many people enjoy this story and I am still so grateful for the support and love you all give. Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy!

It's concerning, and incredibly frustrating, how often Leon's life has been in danger since his arrival to Los Iluminados. You'd think the government would have trained their soldiers in stealth missions.

Chapter 22:

If they did, Leon likely failed.

You and Ada had arrived at the house just in time, with her saving Leon from a large man with a beard in a trench coat and hat. The man oddly reminded you of the Tyrant, Mr. X, you all had encountered back in Raccoon City. Granted, you couldn't get a good look at him, electing instead to remain hidden from both him and Leon so as to not cause any more issues with the mission at hand.

Ada had grappled to the roof of the house, while you had remained on the ground so she could help more easily. Hard to shoot a gun while using a grappling hook. Even harder to do so while also carrying your girlfriend.

Leon left the house shortly after the man with the beard had. So, moving swiftly, you climbed your way up the house to the second floor as Ada jumped down to the same spot from the roof. Opening the window, she nudged for you to go in first. You checked the surrounding area in case there were any enemies, before quietly climbing through the window after seeing nothing of concern.

Maybe you should have been more thorough with your search of the area, considering as soon as you found a lead to where Luis could be and went to exit the house, you both were attacked by the bearded man and friends.

It was not a fun encounter. But thanks to Ada's quick thinking and her handy dandy grappling hook, you both made it out in relatively one piece.

Finding your way to the abandoned factory, Ada took the lead and carefully entered before you. Gun in hand and ready to fight.

“Not a soul in sight.” She said, putting her gun away.

You pointed to the corpse on the floor. “No one except that guy.”

She hummed in acknowledgement. “Might have been Luis’s doing.” She activated her fancy contact lenses. “I'm picking up his footprints. This way.” She beckoned.

You were right behind her as she followed the footprints, keeping your eyes peeled for any other clues to his whereabouts, before finding his pack of cigarettes with the numbers “422 1625” written on the it.

“Is this his frequency?” Ada questioned.

“Try it out.” You shrugged.

Taking out her radio, she set it to the frequency written on the pack and you both waited with bated breath. Thankfully, Luis answers and you sighed with a smile, happy to see the man was alive.

“Ada?” He laughs in relief. “I knew you'd find me!”

“That's my job.” She responded with exasperation.

“Is Sénorita with you?” He asked. You rolled your eyes fondly. He hasn't referred to you by your actual name at all since the moment you've met. At first you found it a little annoying. Now it kind of amused you.

“Right here. I have a name you know.” You called out.

“Ah, but Sénorita rolls off the tongue better.” He teased with a grin.

Ada interrupted, not at all in the mood to deal with Luis's constant flirty comments that he enjoyed throwing at the two of you. “Are you about ready to hand over the Amber?”

“There's a big house just outside the village past the windmill. You know it?” Luis questioned.

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Then I'll meet you here. I'll be waiting.” He said, ending the call shortly after.

“Cool. Let's get out of here. I don't like this place.” You said.

“Agreed.”

Only, of course it wasn't that easy. It was at that moment a bunch of the villagers, including one with a chainsaw, decided to bombard their way into the factory and attack you both from every angle. Getting out of the fight was as difficult as it was annoying. But somehow you both managed.

You and Ada ran out the door of the abandoned factory, with Ada running ahead of you.

Clutching her head with a grunt, Ada's sudden stop instantly made you concerned and on high alert. You didn't see the creature, but you were surrounded by villagers. You both had to get out of there. Now.

“Ada? What's wrong?” You had your gun out, so when she started to faint you were unable to catch her in time.

You gasped and quickly kneeled beside her, checking her pulse and feeling relieved when you felt her heart still beating. Though it was a little fast. And there were markings that resembled veins on her face that really worried you. Whatever that creature infected her with, it was getting worse and you needed to find a cure. Fast.

But you needed to focus on one thing at a time. And that one thing was getting you and Ada safely away from the infected villagers you were surrounded by.

“Need a hand?” A cold voice drawled.

You jumped to your feet and turned around so fast you were dizzy. Yet the gun in your hand was steady. The slight blurriness of your vision cleared away soon enough and focused right on the source of that cold voice.

Wesker.

“Do I have a choice?” You practically snarled, not wanting to accept help from such an awful person. But you knew full well there wasn't any room for argument with the man.

He aimed his pistol at a nearby villager and pulled the trigger without so much as a glance away from you. “No.”

“Then by all means.” You picked Ada up to the best of your ability as Wesker took out any villager in your way, dragging her to the building he led you to and placing her on a bed once you've reached your destination safely.

Safe? Were you at all safe in the vicinity of Albert Wesker? You didn't think so. Interactions with him have to be done carefully.

And by that, you meant you have to remain silent and as far away from the man as possible until Ada wakes up. So you sat on the bed beside Ada and planned to do just that.

Until you saw Wesker making his way over to Ada with a needle.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked with alarm. He just looked at you with his usual deadpan expression.

“That's none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? I find it pretty concerning that you're trying to stick a needle in my unconscious girlfriend.”

Your reply seemed to agitate him, judging by the way his harsh features hardened even further. He walked closer to you. Far too close for comfort.

“Keep in mind that you and Ada are expendable. The moment you have little of use to me is the moment I would happily see to it you both are dead. Especially you, Y/n. The only reason you aren't dead is because I need Ada to get this done. But she is very quickly becoming a problem for me. And so are you.” Wesker looked you dead in the eye. And despite the sunglasses, you can feel the weight of his glare easily.

“Do you really want to interfere while Ada is unconscious and unable to fight back any attack to come her way?” He challenged.

You glared, rage running through you. But accepted your loss and shook your head no. You have no way of winning a fight with the man. And you sure as hell didn't want to chance it while he was so close to Ada, who was prone to any attack at the moment.

“Good. Stay in line. And you will live.” He finished, as if it was simple.

It wasn't simple. It killed you to watch Wesker draw blood from her while she was none the wiser. You felt as though you had betrayed her. And what's worse was the thought that followed after he finished obtaining her blood without her consent.

You paled in realization. He must want it for some kind of experiment. Why else would he want her infected blood? A plan B for if this whole mission turned into a failure. How many people will get hurt now because of this blood sample? How many more will die?

You already feel responsible for those lives who have yet to suffer because of this. But what choice did you have? He could hurt Ada.

Please wake up, Ada.

As if she could read your mind, she immediately gasped awake and looked around in alarm. You grabbed her hand and she flinched, before realizing it was you and relaxing slightly. She went to speak but you quickly shook your head. She was confused, until you gestured to where Wesker stood by the window.

She looked over your shoulder and her eyes widened as she noticed Wesker for the first time, with his back turned to the bed you both sat on. She quickly schooled her features before he could see her surprise.

“Having a bad day?” He asked her, putting the needle away before turning to face her completely. He was ignoring your existence now, but you didn't mind after what just had occurred with Wesker. You'll let Ada deal with him. She has the most experience with the man.

“Wesker. To what do I owe this pleasure?” She asked lightly. Though it was very clear she didn't want to deal with the man either.

Wesker was not having any of the pleasantries. “Stop wasting my time, Ada. Find Luis. Fetch me the Amber.”

“I should probably thank you for this room. Are you staying… to back us up?” She asked. You really hoped he wouldn't stay.

“I'm not here to babysit you. See that you and Y/n remain an asset. Not a liability. I have absolutely no use for your incompetence.” Wesker threatened.

Ada stood up quickly, a bit irritated. “Easy with the threats, Wesker.”

“Just get it done. I'll be in touch.” With that, Wesker walked out, carrying the case that held the needle and her blood.

Not a moment after, her radio rang. You stood to your feet as she immediately answered it. Luis's voice sounded through the speaker of the device.

“Ada! You're okay. I've been waiting and, uh, you're still coming right?” Luis asked.

“Yes, just had some business to attend to. Y/n and I are on our way now.” Ada reassured him.

“Got it. See you soon. Ciao.”

The call ended and she put the radio away, then looked at you. “You've been awfully quiet. You alright?”

Looking at her in disbelief, you responded, “Am I alright? I should be asking you that. What happened back there?”

“The infection is getting worse.” She paused. “But I should be fine. There should be enough time to get the Amber and then an antidote.”

She didn't sound so sure, and you weren't convinced. “Uh huh. And where and how are we going to get an antidote?”

She looked unsure, then shrugged. “Um, one step at a time. Come on. We have to get to Luis.”

You followed after her, exiting the house to get to the location Luis wanted to meet at. As you walked you decided to mention what Wesker did. “Ada?”

“Yes, dear?” She called over her shoulder, focusing on her surroundings yet still hearing what you have to say.

You didn't know how else to say this, so you just said it. “Wesker. H-... he took some of your blood.”

She froze in her tracks and faced you in bewilderment. Shock, confusion, then horror became evident on her face as she took in your words and quickly made the same conclusion you did when she was still unconscious not that long ago.

He stole her blood for whatever virus was currently coursing through her veins.

“He knows?” She asked you.

“That you are infected with something? I think so. I can't think of any other reason he would do this.” You paused, before sighing in defeat. “I wanted to stop him. But he threatened your life and you were unconscious and-”

“Sweety!” Ada interrupted with a raised hand. “It's fine. I completely understand. I am upset at the situation, but not with you.” She huffed. “I'm pissed off actually. At Wesker. Clearly his mother didn't teach him manners.”

“Does he have a mother? I would think he was created in a lab or something.” Not your best joke. But nonetheless, a small smile still appeared on her face.

She shook her head. “Who the hell knows. Come on, not much we can do about it now. Let's focus on Luis.”

With a nod, you followed Ada to resume your mission once more. To Luis. To the Amber. And hopefully, to an antidote for Ada before it is too late for her.

(Edit: I got rid of the spaces. Between paragraphs. Hopefully it looks better and more like the usual posts.)

#ada wong #resident evil #ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #luis sera resident evil #luis serra #luis serra resident evil #I'm pretty sure it's Serra #Not Sera #I Wish I Could Walk In Heels #idk what else to tag #albert wesker

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finniestoncrane · 2 years ago

Note

Okay hear me out: new goon/right hand interview, with AK Scarecrow. I read your chapter two of "Your One True Nemesis" (a superb story btw) and couldn't help but get curious about how you would portray the interview process with Crane instead of Edward (he's living in my head rent free, I'm so sorry ;_;)

But please don't feel pressured - if you don't feel like it, you absolutely don't have to write it. Your well-being comes first! ^///^🧡🧡

Competency Based

Arkham!Scarecrow x GN!Reader, word count: 2.1k losing my mind a little bit over this 💀 i'm so sorry this is longer than expected lmao but i just... where i knew i would be angry at eddie and his fast-paced bullshit, i knew it'd be a slow, psychological torture with a calm and collected jonathan. also i named it after my nightmare, competency based interviews, because they are what i fear the most. seemed appropriate 🧡🎃 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: interrogation vibes, threats, weird flirting from an old man, discussion of phobias/fears, smoking, sorry there's no smut but i find this intensely fucking erotic so warning for that i guess

A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling flooded the beige room with a dim and sickening yellow light. It would have perhaps felt sterile, clinical, at one point, before the pervading scent of black mould, the source of which outlined the cracked tiles on the floor. Walls which were stained with almost artistic formations of dripping, torn wallpaper so precisely reminiscent of some forgotten, horror B-movie that it might well have been staged. The desk, chipped on the edges, the plastic veneer giving way to the rotting chipboard underneath, scratched and etched on top, sticky underneath. One chair, empty. Metal, rusted at the joints, the screws threatening to turn to dust with a single touch, the other chair, in a similar condition of disrepair and notably uneven on the floor, occupied by you.

And there you sat, nervously twiddling your thumbs, sweat forming on your palms, a metallic taste plaguing your tongue as your heart refused to calm down, to stop thumping in your ears to allow you at least the safety of being able to hear him coming. You were nervous though, and noticeably so. Despite the week you had spent preparing, staring at images of Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, from newspaper clippings, screenshots from the news, on the websites, pro and against his particular brand of psychology based morals and ethics. Yet you knew, deep down, nothing could prepare you for sitting across from him, staring at him.

There was nowhere else to turn. Bridges were burned. Doors were closed. And Scarecrow’s power, his gauntlet encased grip on Gotham growing tighter every day. You needed this job. Better the devil you know, and everyone knew Scarecrow.

So deep in thought were you, that you hadn’t heard the door open, and you’d mistaken the subtle creak of the leg brace he wore for the movements of your own chair under your uneasy jittering. The buzzing of the light covered his breath, the drip, unplaceable, covered his steps, and not until he was passing your peripheral vision like a nightmare on the edges of your reality were you fully able to comprehend that he existed, in reality, your reality, in an enclosed and possibly inescapable room.

Without speaking to you, Jonathan sat in the chair opposite, the legs scraping along the tiles, your blood chilling in your veins at the sound. Clearly, and without even realising it, you had made a face, disgust or distaste, perhaps discomfort, at the noise. When you opened your eyes, having plunged yourself into darkness to satisfy the need to expunge the curdling sensation from your body, you caught Jonathan’s eyes. As you opened your mouth, willing an apology out, he spoke first.

“My apologies.”

You inhaled deeply through your nose, trying to suppress the shuddering exhale.

Impress him. Without letting him know how much you need this, how much it means to you. You are strong-willed. Brave. Stoic in the face of stress and even fear. You are perfect for him.

Your affirmations calmed you down, but only slightly, and only for a few moments before Crane spoke again.

“Thank you for attending. Your interest in the position, in any position, is greatly valued. I’m familiar with your previous work. It’s… a pleasure… to have you here.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t necessarily surprising that he would be aware of you, of your notoriety. You’d worked for them all, a valuable asset, trustworthy and skilled at what you did. Realistically, it was only a matter of time until your paths crossed. And still, you felt a flutter in your stomach, recognition from Jonathan Crane himself flushing your cheeks a, hopefully, dull pink.

Reaching across the table to initiate the introductions formally, you offered your hand. Your right hand. Only noticing this first mistake, likely to be the first of many, as he flexed his own right hand, the needles on the edge of the gauntlet twitching as the almost luminous orange liquid was jostled around in the vials.

“Perhaps we can leave the formalities for now.”

Offering a weak, polite smile, you put your hands in your lap under the table, nervously wringing them, hoping the motion wasn’t visible in your upper arms. You paused to wonder why he had chosen to wear the gauntlet to the interview, but he interrupted your internal panic.

“Why are you scared?”

“W-why am I… now?”

He nodded, silently, drumming his fingers on the table, the threat of the unholy screech of metal against metal as the needles, rusted and overused, traced over it, light enough that they remained as silent as Jonathan did.

“I’m… b-be… it’s…”

Raising his left hand, holding his palm flat to you, he mercifully let you stop stammering for the right words.

“Please. I only ask because in your time, you’ve come across larger men. Stronger men. Men with tempers far less balanced as mine. Sionis, Dent, Nigma. Each of them with something more dangerous than I have. But…”

He spread his hands apart, displaying himself, open to you.

“…here we are. Shall we get to know each other better?”

“I already know you pretty well.”

“Quite. And while I know of you, I don’t know what’s inside. What lies within you. What could be stirring within the mind of someone so strong, strong enough to associate with men like me, but not strong enough to answer a simple question.”

As you looked at him, eyebrow raising as though pulled by a string attached to his own sense of curiosity, he asked you again.

“Why are you scared?”

Swallowing your fear, suppressing it, the need for protection and stability in employment usurping it’s position at the forefront of your mind, you took a breath and licked at your lips, noticing that Crane leaned in lightly as your tongue flitted out and quickly back in.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. But that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Maybe you exude fear. Maybe you’re surrounded by a cloud of toxin, enough to have anyone in a state of lingering, but barely effective, terror.”

“An interesting theory, but not the right answer.”

“You can’t know that.”

You jumped at the sound of his leg brace creaking, a squeak and a loud crack from the hinge.

“Not if you don’t tell me the truth. I can’t really know anything in that event.”

“I need this. Fear born of necessity. Dread that I might make a mistake.”

The corners of his mouth, albeit stitched together and crooked, turned up into a slight smile.

“I like that answer.”

“I’m glad.”

“It serves its purpose, to an extent. Feeds the ego. Unfortunately for you, it is the id that I am intent on reaching, of digging my fingers into. Should you let me, of course.”

“And if I don’t?”

Jonathan’s clouded eyes focused on yours, his dulled pupils seeming to sharpen as he honed in on you, a glint of something beyond them that you couldn’t quite place, or didn’t have the confidence to admit to.

“What else frightens you?”

“Like… in general?”

He nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, boot clad foot tapping in the air.

“Heights, failure, the dark. Nothing… nothing abnormal.”

He shook his head and you laughed a little at the way he seemed to disapprove of your answer.

“Honestly! Nothing really scares me all that much.”

“Lies.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

“I… what? No, of course not. But… around the toxin… it’s ok?”

He struck a match, holding it against the slightly crushed cigarette he now held to his mangled lips.

“Maybe… it’s more exciting that way though, don’t you think?”

“And you need my permission?”

He leaned into the table, elbows hard against the surface, and exhaled, a plume of acrid smoke floating towards you, clouding your own vision as you imagined his was.

“It’s only polite.”

You watched him, the way he held the cigarette between his slender fingers, chipped nails stained yellow, knuckles darker, calloused. You studied them so thoroughly you could almost feel them on you. Grazing over your neck, romantic, dangerous. Implied eroticism through the sheer terror of him. Clearing your throat, you refocused just as he resumed his questioning.

“Have you ever felt the effects of my toxin?”

“Never.”

“Would you like to?”

“Out of curiosity… probably yes.”

Crane smiled, blowing the remaining smoke upwards, his cigarette all but a stub.

“Your preferred method?”

“There’s choices?”

Jonathan stood up, suddenly but not quickly, a small movement of his knee to loosen it before he walked to the wall, putting the cigarette out against it and letting it fall to the floor, beginning to walk towards you languidly, until he was behind you, pacing back and forth, a surround sound effect as the heavy steps of his boots echoed around you.

“There’s always a choice.”

He spoke from behind you, but you remained still in your seat, staring forward at the wall, focusing your attention on the burn mark on the wall, your eyes boring the hole further into the wood beyond the charred paper.

“What would yours be?”

“I…”

You had no idea how to respond. There was every chance that your selection was going to lead to a violent nightmare within the four disgusting walls of the room you were in, those same walls seeming to get closer to you, creeping inwards, threatening to swallow you. But you couldn’t stay quiet.

“What would you recommend, Doctor Crane.”

“You’re asking for a prescription?”

“I’m asking for your valued opinion.”

He laughed, a sweet sound, almost. Higher in tone that his speaking voice, warm in a way that made you feel safer, reassured. An effective placating tool.

“Well, there’s the gas. A traditional method, if not slightly more ominous given the connotations. But that’s not always a bad thing.”

The boots, heavy on the ground, seemed to scuff more the longer he paced, only on his left leg though, as though it were growing more and more difficult to keep up with the movement. But you doubted he was the kind of man who would be willing to accept his constraints.

“Dust, pills, tabs, all previous transgressions I have experimented with, which I would be happy to synthesise again if you so choose.”

Considering the implications, you could feel the sweat forming on your palms again, your brow hot, cheeks flushed, chest heaving as your heart beat rapidly within the walls of your ribcage.

“But, for me, I’ve found the most effective method is my preferred in fact. The one I would recommend…”

Standing directly behind you, a position you could feel, instincts buried within your primordial brain causing the hairs on your neck and arms to rise, he leaned in, body against the chair you sat in. As the metal of his brace scraped against the leg of the chair, your breath hitched when you felt the almost imperceptible cold tingling of metal against your skin.

Out the corner of your eye, you could make out his arm, the gauntlet, orange, black, browns, flesh, the scent of oiled metal and leather, the pressure of the tips of the needles against you. Becoming still, solid, though your breath quivered as it escaped you in hushed, slow exhales.

“…it’ll always be the needles. Intravenous, muscular. My toxin coursing through your body, bringing forth what you’re truly afraid of.”

Leaning in further, the needles creating light scratches on your skin, but not far enough into the flesh to cause any immediate effects, he whispered into your ear.

“Why are you scared?”

As your eyes began to water from the stillness with which you held your body, you urged your mouth open, letting the words fall out clumsily, but honestly.

“I’m not.”

A soft, crackling laugh hit your ear along with the heat of his breath. As quick as he had appeared by your side, he was gone, the threat of the needles removed from your person, and you slouched in your chair momentarily before straightening up and clasping your hands on the table top.

Jonathan made his way back around the table, sitting back down in the chair, stretching his left hand out onto the table.

Smiling at the gesture, almost an inside joke between the two of you, you took it in yours. Warm, dry, his grip pleasant and civil until you felt his fingers tense around you.

“You will be though.”

Tighter, until you felt a dull pain begin to throb in your knuckles as they pressed into each other.

“After all, that’s the business I’m in. That we are in.”

#also thank you ;-;#your one true nemesis is so dear to me ;-;#finnie writes #batman #fanfic #scarecrow #jonathan crane #scarecrow imagine #scarecrow smut #scarecrow x reader #rogues gallery #batman rogues #scarecrow x you

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