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sjyuns · 15 days ago

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NONSTOP — SIM JAEYUN

loser nerd!jake x fem!reader established relationship in which your virgin geek of a boyfriend has sex for the first time and you can't keep up with his extremely high sex drive mikaela's based on out of my league jake and his need to explore the atoms of your body. | collection MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

this work contains: virgin!jake but he doesn't act like a virgin, p in v, creampie, munch!jake, oral sex (f receiving), jake is a nerd w a monster cock, dirty talk (just blabbering), boob fixation, nipple play, jake wants to research about your pussy smth like that...

loser nerd!jake who loses his virginity to you and becomes obsessed with the feeling of you wrapped around him

jake has no reason to be this excited or maybe he does, because you're below him well, naked — like naked, naked. Curves visible for him to touch, skin bare for him to feel. Not to mention you tits are out, like actual tits, real tits not the virtual kind of game boobs jake has seen online on sketchy ads.

jake is already in ecstasy the moment he lines himself at your entrance, bulbous tip merely pushing into the opening of your pussy. And you're tight, really tight to the point jake is shocked, groaning in pleasure as he asks, "babe why are you so tight? I mean it feels really good— don't get me wrong but your pussy is sucking me, like a vacuum cleaner."

"jakey," you moan, his cock only half-inserted yet you already feel full, "don't metaphorically link sex to cleaning tools, please."

"sorry baby," he pauses, letting out a soft moan, hands gripping the flesh of your hips as he juts his hips forward instinctively, causing your fingers to curl onto his sheets, "just excited, you know how I am. It's great that you're my girlfriend and you're so hot and that your pussy feels like heaven. Remember how I told you that I thought I'd be a virgin till I was fourty—"

jake's hips thrust forward forward as if it's natural, not like it's his first time having his dick enter the fourth dimension. And when he's truly fully inside you, you let out an euphoric moan, whispering his name under your breath like a ritual.

"fuck baby you feel so good, I didn't know sex would feel so good," jake blabbers, a habit of his when he's entranced, tip of his cock hitting your cervix in rhythmic beats and you can feel him twitch inside of you every time you call his name out. "You know I always had a thing for your tits but now that I've felt what your pussy feels like, I think it's a really close second."

"jakey I'm gonna cum," you wail, back arching as your boyfriend quickens his own pace, chasing his own pleasure, "can we not talk about your boob fixation right now."

"why, they're so pretty," he whines, hands reaching out to kneed the round mound of flesh on your chest, fingers playfully flicking over your nipples as he watches you squirm intently, taking mental notes in his head of your different reactions.

you're overwhelmed with pleasure, and you let out one last whimper of your boyfriend's name before you come undone, slick white cum coating jake's cock as he too releases in you.

jake just stays inside you, still too hyper fixated on your boobs, fingers circling it like he would a game controller, lips darting out in thirst. Would you let him? He hoped you would— "baby can I suck your tits? like put my mouth on it, you know like tongue and all."

your breathing is heavy, and you don't understand how your boyfriend, who deems that it's his first time having sex has such high stamina and drive.

jake continues toying with your nipples, as if your consent was asked just for the sake of asking, and he was going to do it regardless. "I know what sucking is," you hum, hands reaching out to sink your fingers into his messy mop of hair.

taking it as a sign of consent, jake grins goofily, head leaning into your chest as he buries your face between your boobs — he's smiling like a kid in a candy store, tongue darting out to line the rims of your right nipple with saliva, the other nipple given the attention of his fingers as he pinches it.

you whine, thinking that your boyfriend might just be a sex god in disguise of a loser and you'd just hit the jackpot, your fingers curling around the strands of his hair.

he takes your boob in his mouth, sensation making your nipples perk up in need of more and jake hums lazily, the vibrations of his throat making you shiver. and you can feel jake's cock twitch in you, as his hips grind over you like a dog in heat.

"i'm so happy you have tits, they're so perfect like two stress balls, the kinds you'd play with when you're trying to solve a science Olympiad question and you're stuck. They should really start selling boob balls, maybe I should be a founding father of that business, sounds amazing." jake's mouth leaves your boob with a loud, resounding pop, strings of saliva sloppily dangling over his chin and lips as he pitched his idea to you. "i'm already getting hard at the thought, and my mind feels so calm and clear, like i could solve a hundred physics questions right now."

"jakey," you groan, and you don't understand how you're finding this hot.

"don't lie to me and say that you hate that idea, you're throbbing, like pulsating and you're really wet," he states, like he isn't right in the middle of the most mind-blowing sex you've ever had.

"maybe it's because you're still inside me and you're sucking my boobs," you propose to him as he shakes his head in denial, moving his head over to your left nipple, tongue flicking it with one small movement that causes you to let out a soft squeal.

"no, definitely the boob ball thing," he says, fingers moulding it's flesh as his tongue swirled around it.

jake takes his time to work you up, tongue flicking, swirling, and sucking as you slowly reach a new high, hips jutting up into his in need for a new release. and jake is no different, hard at the mere fact that he's in between your tits as he takes his cock out of you only to slam it in again, unapologetically.

this time he pulls out when he's ready to cum, cock covered in milky semen you can barely see the raging red tip as he releases over your stomach, streaks painting your sweat-glossed skin in swatches.

and you're tired, eyelids dropping down yet your boyfriend seemingly never down on energy as he watches the way your gaping hole throbs, slick dripping out of it and he can't help his curiosity as he kneels down between the plush flesh of your thighs, strong arms wrapped around each side as he takes a long lick.

you flinch, and jake does it again, a content gleam in his eyes as he perks up to look at your expression of shock and satisfaction. "you taste really good baby, i was just curious about how you taste but i could literally eat you out right now."

you sigh, resigning to your fate. your boyfriend's curiosity always landing you in unimaginable situations, "but i'm tired," you murmur but jake doesn't stop as you feel the warmth of his tongue dance against your inner thighs.

"you don't have to do anything, baby," jake consoles you, thumb rubbing over your sensitive clit as you let out a lewd sound, "just lie there and take it as a research thing."

"you're researching about..." you drone on, tiredness evident in your voice. jake had just made you cum twice and it seemed like he's made it his ultimate mission to bring you to your utmost limit.

"your pussy," jake states as if it was the most normal thing to do. you'd always knew that jake had a curious mind, and that was one of the things you loved about him, but you didn't know it'd lead to intense rounds of sex with no rest.

jake's tongue probes your gaping hole, a shy touch before he presses the base of his tongue into you, fingers moving to massage your clit. it's tame at first until it's not. jake's tongue doing magic as your juices leak, leading to a loud, lewd slurp as traces of you drip down jake's chin and onto his bedding.

jake's pussy drunk on you and he feels his dick get hard again, a low moan escaping his lips as he continues like it's his calling, fingers occasionally pinching your clit as his tongue drive in and out.

he hears your whine as you come undone again, a new accomplishment for you as he sloppily cleans you up before moving up to place chaste kisses over your body.

"I'm actually going to break up with you," you sigh, eyes barely open and jake gives you an innocent chuckle, his lips glazed with remnants of you, "how are you so horny if it's your first time, i can't believe it."

jake shrugs, moving over to pull you into his bare chest, fingers twirling your hair as you lean into his warmth, limbs tangled and breathing heavy. "it's called having a really hot girlfriend," he states.

in fact, jake feels as if he could continue for hours more. not to mention he's still hard from eating you out, his bulge pressing between your thighs as he laughs guiltily.

"jake," you sigh, knowing what your boyfriend wants to say.

"i won't ask," he says, only for his voice to break the serene silence moments later, "one more round?"

#⪩⪨ mikaela's #ꪮut of my ✶ ꪶeague #jake smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #jake x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen jake imagines #jake x you #enhypen x reader #jake imagines #enhypen scenarios #jake headcanons #enhypen headcanons

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heyimkana · 3 months ago

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Pillow Talk (1/4)

AO3 Link

Sequel to Come Home to Me but can be read separately.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader

Genre: Marriage AU, fluff, smut

Summary: Your husband, Sung Jinwoo, has been trying to restrain himself from touching you in the last few weeks, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable as you're dealing with the first trimester of your pregnancy. But today, his patience is running thin. He needs to be with you, in one way or another.

Content Warnings: Teeth-rotting fluff, cute family moments, and sweet, slow, passionate sex with Husband/Papa!Jinwoo (in part 2)

Word Count: 7K

Sung Jinwoo has always loved taking on treacherous dungeon raids, especially by himself. He can gain all the experience he needs to level up, gather more magic stones to build a stronger guild, and, of course, extract more shadows to join his army. But these days, as he enters a gate with a silver wedding band wrapped around his finger, he wields his daggers with a smile solely because of one reason: so you can pamper him once he gets home.

It’s not easy, you see, pretending to get hurt and act weak and sluggish all day when you’re an S-Rank Hunter famously known to be invincible. He practically is, isn’t he? With thousands of undying soldiers beneath his feet, how could anyone imagine him getting hurt? Every raid should be light work for him, which is true. Your husband could quite literally just stand there on the sidelines with both hands buried inside his coat’s pockets, smirking to himself as he imagined all the ways you could make him feel better after a supposedly long, exhausting day inside the gate (and best believe, he’d be creative with it, maybe even a bit naughty about it).

And he did, most of the time, just occasionally yawning as he watched his generals—Beru and Igris—shred the dungeon monsters to pieces. The only thing that kept him entertained during his waiting was the thought of seeing you again, of coming home to you and being welcomed with a kiss, of holding his daughter in his arms while she babbled about her “super dangerous” trip to the nearby supermarket.

Being a married man changed him, but only for the best.

Today’s raid is no different, just as tedious and time-consuming as always.

“O most noble majesty,” Beru, the former Ant King who once massacred several S-rank Hunters in a matter of seconds, kneels before his master in a deep bow, his claws clutched against his heart, one that he dedicated solely to his king. “I bring tidings of great import. The fell beast, Guardian of the Dungeon Depths, hath been vanquished in glorious combat by mine hand, thy most true and loyal servant—”

“Speak normally, or I’ll take the TV away from you.”

“Y-yes, my liege, my apologies. I hereby inform you that I have defeated the dungeon boss as you commanded. The shadow knights are now collecting the magic stones. The ants are dealing with the remaining beasts. We shall finish this raid before the sun sets low, my king.”

“Good,” Jinwoo stretches his arms over his head, his muscles taut from all the waiting. He hasn’t done a single thing since he entered the gate—aside from daydreaming about you, that is. It’s partially your fault, really, for wearing that sultry nightgown to bed last night. You were well aware that he was still too afraid to touch you ever since you discovered that you were pregnant with his second child. He could see just how uncomfortable you were dealing with your hormonal changes and your constant morning sickness. The last thing he wanted to do was to wear your body down even further by attending to his needs. And yet, you still wore that satin lace gown to bed, driving him insane with how smoothly the fabric slid across your skin, hugging your curves in all the places he’d been itching to touch. You didn’t mean to lure him in, of course; the gown was just so comfortable to sleep in, but goddammit, he wanted you so badly he had to take a bathroom trip twice to give himself some relief.

“Great work today, Beru,” Jinwoo says. “There’s only one more thing I need you to do for me.”

“Anything, my liege.”

He looks down at him, still with his hands stuck in the pockets of his black trench coat. A smirk graces his lips with a glimmer of impishness sketched over it. “I want you to hit me in the face.”

“M-m-my liege?!” Beru’s shadowy figure was drenched in all black, but even then, it was clear that he turned pale at the request. “H-how could I, Beru, your most humble servant, do such thing to your gorgeous, most absolutely divine face, my king?”

“Don’t ever say that again,” he almost shudders from the excessive compliment before a shrug follows. “You said you’d do anything for me, right? Or was that a lie?”

“I-it is not a lie, my liege, but—”

“Should I just ask Igris instead?” He huffs loudly to the air. `“I know he wouldn’t think twice if I asked him to do something for me, especially this one. It’s a dire need, after all.”

If there was one thing that could easily agitate the ant king, it was being compared to another shadow soldier. It was endearing, really—and borderline creepy—the way Beru was so possessive over him, always wanting to be the one who could impress the Shadow Monarch the most, to be the only one worthy of standing by his side. “Even so, my liege, I am not sure if I should—”

“Hit me.” Jinwoo’s patience runs thinner than usual. Is it really because he’s so touch-starved, yearning for you, that he’s grown this irritated? “Do it as hard as you can. If you hold back, I’ll never summon you again.”

Beru cowers at the thought. “No, please, my liege, have mercy. Anything but that.”

“Then, do it.”

“B-but—”

“Igris, come here—”

“I SHALL DO IT, MY LIEGE!” ***

Being pregnant is a mix of wonderful and trying times. Your first pregnancy was the perfect evidence of that, but since you managed to go through it somehow, you thought the second time would be easier, assuming that your body had learned enough from the previous experience to withstand it this time. You hoped you could recover from your morning sickness much faster this time around, but no.

It’s not any easier. It’s ten times worse. And it fucking sucks.

You’ve been throwing up more today than the amount of hours you spent sleeping through the night. No matter how often you rinse your mouth or brush your teeth, you still feel the aftertaste of your bile coating your tongue. Everyday is a long day to get through. From doing chores and caring for your daughter—who has now turned four—you haven’t gotten much chance to rest. Your mood is all over the place. Every time your toddler throws a tantrum, you’re so tempted to imitate and throw a bigger one. It’s a childish thought, you know that, but if lying around the floor with your limbs flailing around could make you feel better, you would’ve probably done it.

Your body is weary. Your daughter is still running all over the place, making a mess out of the potpourri you just placed on the coffee table to chase away the pet odor in your home. The scent only lingers faintly in the air—Mr. Whiskers never smells terrible, all thanks to the High Orcs who take turns to wash him regularly—but ever since you have a life growing inside you, your sense of smell is heightened, and nearly everything makes you nauseous. If you weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t have been bothered by the odor at all.

Right now, you’re staring blankly at the dirty plates sitting on the sink, waiting to be washed. You don’t feel like finishing your chores. You don’t feel like doing anything at all, honestly. Whenever you feel like this, there’s only one thing that can fix your mood and boost it quickly, or rather, a person, and that is—

“Jinwoo…” You sigh out his name longingly as if it were a mantra that could magically restore the life within you. You speak it like a prayer, and perhaps it is, just wishing for your husband to come home soon so he can console you like always, giving you the warmest of back hugs before he plants comforting kisses down your neck and says—

“Yes, my love?”

Your husband’s voice reverberates right beside your ear, and you jolt, shrieking in surprise as a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist from behind. Jinwoo has just appeared out of thin air—no, out of your shadow—smiling at you with one corner of his lips rising higher than the other. You can hear a peal of laughter tumbling off his lips at your reaction, his mouth brushing against the side of your neck, light and tender, with a promise of something more if he’s not careful.

“Mmm, seems like someone has been missing me all day,” he comments, visibly delighted, his husky voice vibrating right onto your sensitive skin.

You whirl around to face him, your heart still caught in your throat as you throw a playful smack on his chest. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop. doing. that?” You punctuate each word with a slap.

He chortles softly, catching your wrist with ease. Your hand appears much smaller than his, but then again, your entire body is. You're not aware of this yet, but this is one of the reasons why he’s so attracted to you. Something about you being short and tiny (compared to him, that is), your body soft and warm in his arms—it drives him crazy, shrouded him with this need to protect you, to take care of you. “Doing what?” he asks despite knowing the answer. He kisses the dip of your palm, perhaps as a token of his apology, although it doesn’t seem fairly sincere with how he’s impishly grinning at you.

“Popping out of nowhere!” You chastise with a glare. “I swear to God, Sung Jinwoo, one of these days, I’ll get a heart attack, and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

He continues to chuckle fondly at your attitude. Placing both hands on the kitchen counter, he has your body trapped in between. Jinwoo towers over you, his body caging you in, and he still smells so wonderfully pleasant, like the perfume you bought him even after going through long hours of fighting beasts in the dungeon (your gullible self never realized that your husband was just lazing around all day during the raid, doing nothing but having questionable thoughts about you). He’s dressed rather formally today, wearing the same white button-down shirt and the black trousers you’d prepared for him this morning. You wonder if his meeting with the higher-ups went well. It’s always the most tiresome part of the day for him, even way more than all the hours he spends inside the gates.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Jinwoo apologizes with a playful kiss on your forehead. “I just can’t help it. You look so cute when you’re surprised.”

You continue to glower at him.

“And even cuter when you’re angry,” he adds, his grin boyish and irritatingly charming. “Where’s my welcome home kiss?”

Oh, the audacity. “You don’t get any until you learn your lesson,” you grumble as you spin back toward the sink, switching on the water and snatching a dirty plate. “Thank goodness, I was just doing the dishes. Remember the last time you did this? When I was…” You continue with your scolding, bleating one line after another, but each word is brushed aside as Jinwoo takes in the sight of you, enthralled.

It warms his heart to see you like this, his love for you brimming in his chest simply from seeing you do something domestic in the heart of his home. Your delicate frame, your beauty showing so naturally without anything to cover your flaws—the sweet imperfections he adores. The sight of you dressed in one of his shirts, comforted by his scent, its fabric falling loose around your curves, your hair tied up in a messy bun with soft, baby hairs curled around your nape. If you had known he would come home so soon, you would’ve showered and made yourself more presentable for him, but Jinwoo loves you like this. This is the version of you that only he can see. You’re so unbelievably sexy in his eyes, and it just adds more gasoline to the scorching desire within him.

“Jinwoo, are you listening to me—ah!” An involuntary moan escapes you when he mouthes against your nape, his tongue pressing flat against your sensitive spot, your knees buckling at the sensation. He plants one kiss after another as he maps his way down to your shoulder, tugging on your collar just enough to reveal more of your skin. His kisses are no longer the featherlight ones he gave you before. They’re now laced heavily with lust, the thirst he’s been trying to constrain but failing every time. He tastes your skin, his teeth itching to sink in, disrupting your thoughts at once.

Your plate slips off your fingers before you grip tightly onto the sink, his hand slithering past the hem of your shirt, skating over your stomach and leaving fire at its trail. “Jinwoo, w-wait…”

“If you’re not gonna give me a kiss, Sweetheart,” he whispers, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “Maybe I should just steal it away.”

Before you can react, his fingers frame your jaw, forcing you to face him and claiming your lips at once. Your heart rate accelerates, his torso glued to your spine, and the second you moan into the kiss, he turns you over in his arms, his self-restraint thinning into a thread. Now fully facing him, you feel your body being pushed forward, the edge of the kitchen counter digging into your back as your husband recaptures your lips with his own, slanting them even deeper. He sighs into the kiss, pleased and relieved as if he had been on his best behavior all day and the taste of your mouth was the prize he’d been waiting for.

Taste of my mouth…?

Oh, no.

“W-wait, stop for a bit.” You place a hand on his chest, quickly ending the kiss and tossing your face to the side, embarrassed. “You shouldn’t kiss me. I taste like vomit—”

Jinwoo tugs you forward before you can end your sentence, his fingers clasping firmly against your wrist, keeping you under his control. He kisses you harder, fiercer, as if your little act of pushing him away elevated the hunger inside him. His free arm winds around your waist, guiding you closer to him until he can drown himself again in your warmth.

“Jinwoo—”

“Just one more.” He thumbs the edge of your mouth, parting your lips open for him despite you trying your best not to. A low grunt erupts from the back of his throat the second he has the chance to taste you a little bit more, his desire so insatiable that he grabs you by the back of your neck, holding your body possessively without leaving you the opportunity to escape. To him, your mouth tastes like ambrosia, and he can’t help but devour you the second he gets the chance.

“Sweet,” he moans softly against your mouth. “You taste so fucking sweet, baby.”

You almost whimper in response, your hands fisting against the front of his shirt. There’s something different about him today, this sense of urgency that takes hold of him like a vice. It makes your body ache with need, too, the need to have his mouth on you, on every place he can reach and more.

Screw it. You can get angry with him some other time. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you as if you wanted to fuse your bodies into one. The sweet sounds he makes grow louder, turn a pitch higher, and when he feels your fingers tugging on the roots of his hair, he almost growls, his teeth grinding against the side of your neck.

Amidst the heavy breaths, you can hear the sound of gushing water coming from behind. Right, the tap! I haven’t turned it off. “Wait, Jin—the water—mmph—” Your husband doesn’t let you speak, doesn’t want to let another second lay to waste, not after he spent the whole day—no, the whole month—waiting to touch you like this.

It’s not until your daughter (who you both seem to have forgotten, shame on you) tugs on the edge of his coat that you break away from each other, leaving the two of you standing with your faces flushed, your hairs disheveled, and your minds reeling.

“Daddy,” she gives it another pull, her lower lip jutted out in protest. The current babysitter in charge, a High Orc with a messy braid (courtesy of your daughter) and two huge, ivory fangs protruding from the bottom of his mouth, stands gawkily behind her, feeling awkward for interrupting… whatever the hell it was that was happening between you and his master. He then notices the running water, silently turning off the tap while sending you a look.

“T-thanks,” you say to the beast, ashamed. “I was… gonna get that.”

He simply nods, and thank goodness these High Orcs can’t speak because the line, “Mm-hmm, sure,” seems to be written all over his face.

Meanwhile, your husband, the one responsible for all of this, bends forward almost immediately, scooping your daughter up in his arms. “Oh, no, Daddy forgot to say hello to his little princess, didn’t he?” She nodded in response, her cheeks all puffed out. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I got distracted for a bit, but don’t worry. You have all my attention now.”

“All of it?”

“All of it,” he promises with a smile, sweet and soft, a stark contrast to the man he was just a few seconds before. “Do you want to give Daddy a kiss?”

With a happy chirp, his daughter leaned in almost immediately, brushing her plump lips once on each of his cheeks. “Again, again,” she says, planting another kiss between his eyebrows and a peck on his nose. Both of them grin happily at each other, rubbing the tips of their noses together as her giggles fill the spaces between you. “Welcome home, Daddy.”

No matter how often he’s heard it, his heart melts just the same every time she echoes those words with her angelic voice. “Thanks, Sweetie. Hey, listen.” Still carrying his daughter in his arms, Jinwoo whirls around to have her place her attention on you. “You wanna know why I forgot to greet you today?”

“Why?”

“Because Mommy was about to cry.”

Her doe eyes widen adorably as she gasps out, “She was?”

You restrain the urge to roll your eyes as your husband continues sprouting his bullshit. “Yes, she was. You see, she missed Daddy so much todaythat she felt like crying while doing the dishes.” Now that he says it like that, you can’t help but feel abashed. That was a bit pathetic, wasn’t it? “Daddy had no choice but to go and cheer her up. Isn’t that right, Mommy?”

Your hand itches to toss him another punch. “Oh, yes, God, I was so lonely,” you mutter in your best robotic voice, sarcasm lying thickly in your voice.

“See?” Jinwoo tosses you a shameless grin, amused by your reaction. No, not just that. Happy. “Mommy could barely live without me.”

“Mm. Barely.” You land a kick to the back of his shin. Of course, that does absolutely nothing to an S-Rank Hunter like him. If anything, it only makes him want to chaff at you even harder.

Fortunately for you, your daughter doesn’t seem like she’s seen the kisses you shared with your husband—or maybe she did, but she chose not to care. “Daddy, did you get cupcakes for me?”

“No, Sweetie, I’m sorry.” Your husband gently strokes her hair, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear. “I was in a rush on my way home.”

She blinks her eyes innocently. “Why?”

“Because Daddy misses you, of course,” Jinwoo smiles warmly, affectionately, the kind of fatherly smile that you didn’t think he could display so naturally on his lips when you first started dating him. “I missed you so much, Princess. I was thinking about you all the time during the raid that I could hardly concentrate.” Well, that and how you looked in your sexy nightgown, to be exact. “I was only gone for a few hours, but I just couldn’t wait to see you again. So, the second the gate was closed, I ran straight home.”

Teleported, you grumble inwardly with a snort, even when I’ve already told him not to.

“Is that why you got a cut on your cheek? Because you were distracted?” Your daughter questions him, staggering you.

What?

You quickly turn to your husband, examining his face with your eyebrows sewn in concern. Although it’s barely visible, it’s true. There’s a cut on his cheek, a thin line of crimson on his smooth, pasty skin, like an accidental brush of a pen on paper. This kind of injury is nothing and will naturally heal within a day or two, but still, it frightens you somehow that there’s a being out there who could lay a finger on him—on someone who’s supposed to be untouchable. You were certain that he was only clearing an A-rank dungeon today. Surely, it couldn’t have been so dangerous?

“Are you okay?” You ask him softly, almost motherly, carefully holding his face as if that little cut made his body a million times more fragile. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Jinwoo bites down on his lip as your anxiety grows. Is it so bad that it’s hard for him to say? You wonder worriedly. Of course, you don't realize in the slightest that he’s only catching it between his teeth because he’s afraid that his mischievous smile will break on his lips and give his plan away. Jinwoo has been craving to be loved, touched, and spoiled endlessly by you today. With you looking this concerned, he’s already walking the path of success. He’s not going to let his little grin betray him at the last minute.

“No, nowhere else, Sweetheart,” he says with a tender smile. “Just this one on my cheek. I’m okay, though. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just a cut.” Because that was all Beru could manage to do, he continues inwardly, almost releasing a disappointed sigh. Three chances. He gave that stupid ant three chances to wound his face as best as he could without putting any defense whatsoever, and this little cut on his face was all Beru could do. To be fair, knowing his immense durability and his tremendous physical strength, landing just a scratch itselfis considered a feat, but still… Had he had a bigger bruise blooming on his face, you’d take better care of him, wouldn’t you?

You breathe out in relief at his reply but continue to press further. It’s not a matter of pain; it’s the fact that there’s somebody out there who can lay a hand on him. What happens if it gets worse? What if he comes home with a wound next time instead of a cut? No, what if he doesn’t come home at all?

“Jinwoo…” You twine your fingers around his lean ones. “Did something happen in the ga—”

“IT WAS BECAUSE OF ME, MY QUEEN!” A voice suddenly bursts into your hearing, coming from a small, shadowy figure that seeps out from beneath your husband’s collar. It’s Beru, you realize, but shaped in a different form. Instead of taking his usual humanoid figure, he’s much smaller in size, a floating head with a pair of antennae, so tiny he could fit in your daughter’s palm.

“B-Beru?”

“Yes, my queen, it is I, Beru, your faithful servant,” the shadow soldier speaks. “With the deepest regret, I must confess that I have brought harm to our king’s heavenly face. To atone for my sins, I shall accept any punishment you bestow upon me, milady.”

Your frown only deepens.“Wait, I don’t understand. What happened exactly?”

The shadow seems to fidget. “H-Half an hour ago, inside the gate, my liege requested me to—”

“Beru got distracted during the fight,” Jinwoo explains casually, cutting him off so smoothly with his smile intact. “I got this cut when I tried to save him. Isn’t that right,” he turns his head slightly to the side to face the shadow, his eyes gleaming eerily like a purple moon in a pitch-black sky, his voice turning an octave lower, “Beru?”

You can hear the shadow whimper in horror before it flies back to his collar, hiding behind the fabric. Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why is Beru acting weird?”

“When is he not acting weird?” Your husband responds nonchalantly. You can’t trust him when he’s smirking like this. No matter how good he looks with it, you can’t. You shouldn’t.

“I’ll put a bandaid on it, Daddy!” Your daughter chirps before jumping away from his arms, rushing to get the first aid kit. When she returns with the box, running toward her father with her little feet, Jinwoo kneels before her. His smile, his posture, the soft look on his face—everything reminds you of the prince in your daughter’s storybook, the one she’s fallen hopelessly in love with.

No wonder she loves her daddy so much, you think fondly to yourself, your heart thawing at the sight of your daughter applying a bandaid to his cheek. She looks so serious as she does it, mustering all her brain power to ensure she covers the cut perfectly. Once she’s done, she plants a kiss over it, sweet and adorable. “There, there.” She pats his cheek. “You’re all better now.”

Jinwoo’s face radiates with joy, but the bow of his lips remains sweet and tender as always. “Thank you, Princess.”

“You’re welcome, Daddy.” She pecks his nose once before she tugs on his hand. “Now, come on! Let’s have a tea party! You can be the queen, and I’ll be the princess, and Mr. Whiskers can be the king!”

“Right now?” Jinwoo chuckles, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. He has the energy to play with you all night, but having tea parties with an overexcited toddler can be quite draining indeed, especially when he has to play the role of a noblewoman—who’s married to a cat, for some reason—to keep her entertained. “Can Daddy take a shower first?”

“No! The tea will get cold if you do that!”

“All right, all right. Can I, at least, play a more masculine role this time? A prince, maybe?”

“No, we need to have a queen in the story!”

“Why can't Mommy be the queen, then?”

“Because Mommy is busy doing her chores,” you answer with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, completely ignoring the pleading look your husband is sending you. "Remember to use your girly voice, Husband.”

Jinwoo squints his eyes at you. "Is this your payback from earlier?”

You flaunt your coquettish grin. “Maybe.”

He sighs despite his little smile threatening to crawl back to his lips. "You're lucky I love you, Sweetheart.”

“Daddy, come on!” She hops on her feet, tugging him even further toward the living room. “And you too, Orky, hurry up! You’re the maid. You need to serve us some cake!”

The High Orc releases a sigh. Tossing his messy braid over his shoulder, he retrieves his apron from the counter—one that you’d sewn yourself for him as a gift for being an exceptionally patient babysitter—and follows after their steps.

To anyone else’s eyes, the sight of South Korea’s 10th S-Rank Hunter, a fluffy yet somewhat demonic cat, a brawny High Orc, and a toddler with messy pigtails having a tea party on a tiny plastic table in your living room might be too absurd to take in, but this is just an everyday scenery in your lovely home. Even so, you’ll never take this for granted. The sense of relief of being safe and sound, the happiness of being together, the warmth that spreads right to your center…. These are the things that you pray every night to last forever.

And it is something that Sung Jinwoo protects more than the universe itself. ***

A sigh slips out of you as you slide underneath the blanket, the bed’s soft and almost heaven-like the moment you lie down. It has been an exhausting day, and you still haven’t gotten to bring much food into your system. Tomorrow will be better, you convince yourself. Hopefully, all the healthy juice and vitamins you’ve consumed throughout the day could replenish the nutrients your baby needs.

The bathroom door clicks open, shining light into an otherwise dimmed room. Steams of hot water cloud the room as your husband steps out with a towel hanging over his head. He’s dressed in nothing but his black sweatpants, his body lean and toned, still glistening with water. He’s mesmerizing as always and effortlessly so. You avert your gaze away, however, as you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being ogled at and have him tease you about it all night—because he definitely will if he catches you drooling at the sight. He’s done that before, and he’s only eager to do it again.

Jinwoo exhales as he sits on the edge of the bed, sounding just as tired as you are. Little did you know that this was just an act to have you indulge him in more ways than one until his thirst for your affection was quenched.

You roll around to face him, lying on your side and making a pillow out of your arm. “Long day at work?”

“Just a little,” he answers. You notice how water droplets are still dripping from his hair, drenching his shoulders and… rolling down his… broad, muscular back…

You swallow, forcing yourself not to stare—not too much, at least—at how the muscles in his shoulder blades contort when he lifts his hand to rub the towel against his hair but damn it, it is getting very distracting. You can’t help it, really. It’s just been so long since you two have been intimate with each other, and that… session you had with him in the kitchen only made your longing for him a million times worse. “You do look more weary than usual. Did the bath help? I used the expensive bath salts for you.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, it was relaxing. We should’ve taken a bath together.”

“We wouldn’t have been relaxing if we bathed together.”

“Really?” He arches an eyebrow suggestively. “And why is that?”

Your voice reduces to a mumble when you reply, “You know why.”

His little smirk tells you that yes, he does know, but he just wants to see you grimacing from shame when you say it out loud. “Were you worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself?”

The truth was, you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to, but your husband doesn’t need to know about that. “Isn’t that exactly what happened last time?”

“Only because you didn’t ask me to behave,” he cocks his head to the side, his lips curving devilishly. “You should’ve asked me to be a good boy for you, Sweetheart. I wouldn’t have touched you if that was the case. And I always keep my promise, you know that.”

Oh, he does, all right. The same way he did during your honeymoon phase when he promised you that he wouldn't stop fucking you until the sun came out. Underestimating his stamina was the biggest mistake of your life. He had your legs trembling so badly the following day, you had to call off work.

But that’s it, isn’t it? That's exactly what you want to happen right here, right now. Jinwoo has been so considerate of your pregnancy that he decided to put a leash on himself. It’s a sweet thing for him to do, but sometimes, you just wish he’d tear it apart and set himself free. It would be nice if he could just be a little rough with you right now, not caring too much about how you feel and just focusing on what he wanted to do. But he’s not that kind of man, and that’s why you married him.

Despite his aloof, stoic demeanor and how vicious he can be during battles, he’s the most gentle lover you’ve ever been with, especially when he knows you’re not ready to deal with anything like that yet, both physically and emotionally (or so he thought). He’s truly all a woman could look for in a husband. Protective and strong. Loving. Caring. Treating you with the same amount of tenderness as he treats his own mother. But, still, a slight change wouldn’t be too bad, would it? If he could just be a little selfish in bed today, succumbing to his desire to touch you and make love to you without restraint… That would be nice, right?

“Baby, you okay?”

His deep voice startles you, dragging you out of your stupor. “Yeah, I was just, umm…” You clear your throat, heat filling your cheeks. “Your hair’s dripping. Want me to help you dry it off?”

His lips part in what seems to be surprise before he wrings them together into a smile. First mission, clear, he claims triumphantly in his head. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not.” You make your way toward him, your legs sliding against the sheets before you kneel behind him, giving his shoulders a little squeeze. “You’re my husband. It makes me happy when I get to take care of you, especially when you’ve worked so hard all day.”

“Mm. Yeah. I’ve worked so hard today.”

Oblivious to the demonic cackle he’s trying to bite down, you step down from the bed, searching for the hair dryer you stored inside the drawer. Jinwoo waits in silence, leaning back with two hands propping his weight on the sheets behind him, his legs spread wide open. His eyes roam over your body, following every curve and dip, his fingers itching to just tear your nightgown away and replace every inch of satin with the softness of his kiss and the heat of his desire.

You notice the way his hooded eyes cascade to the valley between your breasts as you walk toward him, your stomach swirling at this thrilling thought of being so physically wanted. With how he chews on his bottom lip as he gazes at you, his thoughts wandering to places they shouldn’t be, he makes you feel like you’re the prettiest woman in the world, a goddess he’s so close to touch and taste, yet the heaven forbids him for it.

“My eyes are up here, Husband.”

He lets his gaze linger for one more second before they flick back to you. “I know,” he smirks, shameless. After watching you plug your hairdryer in the nearest socket, he gestures you to come close and settle yourself between his legs, his smile welcoming—no, inviting. “Come here,” he suggests with a couple of pats on his thigh.

You know what he’s asking, and God, you want to just give in and obey whatever he commands you to, but you decide to ignore him at the last second. Sitting on his lap right now when you’re nearly consumed by this aching need to be touched is just too risky. You have to be careful if you don’t want to appear so… needy.

“Sometimes I think you’re not older than five. Look at how wet your hair is.” You reprimand him playfully as you try to shake away the excess water from his hair with his towel. You let yourself move closer to him, standing between his legs, your face hovering close enough to entice him but not enough for him to feel the sweetness of your breath caressing his skin. “Did you even use your towel? You’re still soaked and—”

Your line ends shortly in a yelp when Jinwoo easily lifts your body with one arm coiled around your waist, placing you down on one of his thighs. He lets his arm linger protectively around you, making sure to keep you safe and secure on his lap. “Comfortable, Sweetheart?” He asks with a puckish grin.

No, it’s not comfortable. It’s torturous.

See, the thing is, it’s easy for you to touch him first, to reach out and kiss him and explore his mouth until he groans and has no choice but to take you. But the last time you approached him first, the last time you were so clingy, and needy, and just desperate for his touch, it boosted his ego so much that he ended up smirking every time he saw you. For the whole fucking week, that is. He didn’t even say anything when you asked him with a suspicious glare, “Why do you keep smirking at me like that?” He’d just shrug and continue to smirk even more, and it annoyed you—flustered you—terribly because the words, “Nothing, I just keep remembering how cute you looked when you were begging me the other day,” were painted vividly all over his face. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction again. Never.

If he wants to make love to you tonight, if he wants to even touch you for a bit, he’s going to have to ask for it.

But when he looks this fucking handsome with his mysterious, sapphire-like eyes, his hair wet and pushed back by your hand, his lips slightly parted as if he was waiting for yours to close the space between them… It takes you everything not to fall in his arms.

Despite all these thoughts gyrating in your head, screaming to be turned into actions, you keep yourself composed on the outside; your stare remains flat. “Do I really have to dry your hair like this? While sitting on your thigh?”

“What, I just don’t want my pregnant wife to get tired from standing too long,” he argues, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “It makes me happy when I get to take care of my wife, too, you know.” His eyes droop a little as he says the line, and fuck, fuck, he definitely just stole a glance at your lips there.

This little devil. “I know you didn’t use your towel. You’ve been plotting this whole thing right from the start.”

“Plotting is such a dramatic word,” Jinwoo replies, followed by a small laughter. “I just want my wife to spoil me for a bit.” He places a hand on your leg, his thumb rubbing against your inner thigh. It brushes against the hem of your gown as he purrs, “Is that so wrong, Sweetheart?” You watch his digit slip underneath the fabric, never going further up, aiming just to tease. “For your husband to ask his wife for some love?”

Even just that already causes you to swallow your breath. “I think I’ve loved you enough today.”

“Hmm, I don't know.” He leans close to your ear, his warm, minty breath swaying your soft strands with each word spoken. “I’m a bit greedy, after all. I might need you to pamper me all night long.”

Your head swirls under temptation but you keep yourself strong. You return the safe distance between you, placing a hand on his… bare chest. God, he needs to put on some shirt. “You could’ve just asked me to dry your hair instead of drenching the sheets.”

His little smile, the way he’s tilting his head slightly to the side, staring at you with his eyes turning all soft, lost in your own… Curse you, Sung Jinwoo. “You’re right, sorry.” He’s not sorry. He’s already planning to drench the sheets in one way or another, you can tell, and you’re excited about it. Though it won’t take long for that excitement to turn into frustration with the way he keeps touching you but not actually touching you.

Why won’t he just do it? Why won’t he just say that he misses me as much as I miss him, wants me—no, needs me as much as I need him? It would’ve saved us a lot of time if he could just kiss me right now.

What you don’t know is that, from his side, your husband isn’t really seeking a chance to make love to you tonight. He wants to—God, only heaven knows just how much he wants to devour you right now—but he won’t force you to do something so physically straining when you already look so weary. Still, he needs to touch you today, to explore you, to taste you, or otherwise, he’ll just lose his mind. He doesn’t even care if he gets no relief himself. He just needs to be with you in that way, but being the little shit that he is, he wants to tease you about it. After all, what makes your sex life so fun and adventurous is this little game you always play, seeing who’s going to yield to their desire first, and start begging the other for mercy.

So far, Jinwoo is winning, but that doesn’t mean you can’t turn the tides. “Come on. Let’s dry your hair.”

“Mm.” Jinwoo lowers his head (yes, even when you’re sitting on his thigh; he’s still taller than you), cutely nuzzling his face against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “I’ll be in your care, Noona.”

N-Noona?! Your face catches on fire. Turning the tides has never been so difficult. It’s been years since he last called you that way that you’ve forgotten just how easily he could make your heartbeat soar with merely a single word. You’re only a year older than him, which is not a big deal, but he surely takes it to his advantage—an effective way to cause your stomach to flip with every call.

“Hmm? What’s wrong, Noona?”

Stay calm, stay calm. “Nothing.” Exhaling a bit too harshly, you switch on your hairdryer and draw it closer to his hair, your fingers carding through the locks, sometimes ruffling them. He smiles to himself, looking all pleased and giddy—well, as giddy as someone as cool as Sung Jinwoo could be. Seeing how he leans further into your touch, silently pleading for another touch the same way a little boy would ask for praise, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at the sight. How can a 190cm tall, muscular S-Rank Hunter—the Lord of the Undead himself—be so adorable?

“You’re like a dog,” you comment with a hint of mirth in your voice, “wanting to be petted.”

Jinwoo responds by playfully trying to bite your hand, clamping his teeth together, his pointy fangs bared. And you wish he had. You wish he’d sink his teeth into your skin, leaving marks on you again after so long. He always does that in bed, doesn’t he? Leaving love bites all over your neck, his teeth grinding against your shoulder as he drove himself in and out of you. It was as if he wanted to remind you again and again that you were his, only his, to give himself the satisfaction of knowing that he was the only man who you’d allow to do whatever he wanted with your body.

And when he gets rough… When he turns feral in bed because you just rile him up so much… When he flips you over to your stomach, one hand binding both of your wrists together before he presses his weight onto you—

“You’re stopping again,” Jinwoo says with a coy smile. “What are you thinking about, Sweetheart?”

You, fucking me from behind. “N-nothing.” You work your hand; your movement’s no longer as poised.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” he simpers.

“Oh, shut up. I’m just thinking about…” Think quickly, think quickly, think quickly. “Your hair.”

"What about it?”

“It’s just… really soft. Surprisingly soft.” It amazes you how you manage to keep yourself composed with those filthy thoughts raging like a storm in your head. You continue to ruffle his hair, shaking the water away. “Fluffy, even.”

“You say that as if you’d never touched my hair before,” he titters softly. His eyes then flick back to yours, the blue in them sketched thickly with the desire he’s been trying to rein in. “When you’ve done so much more than that.”

You don’t know what drives you to do it—perhaps it’s some kind of reflex as the sultry nights you’d spent with his head trapped between your legs comes to your recollection—but you yank on his strands, and he lets out this low, deep groan from the back of his throat, his gaze turning dark and heavy when he warns, “Careful, Sweetheart.”

He’s not reminding you to be gentle, not at all. He’s warning you not to push his buttons more than you already do. He’s already suffering as it is, trying to hold himself back from having his way with you, and you tugging on his roots like this, reminding him of all those times when you were pleading for him to thrust his tongue deep inside your core, is not helping.

“Then, don’t make it weird,” you reciprocate with a little pinch on his nose. After combing your fingers through his hair one last time, you switch off the hairdryer. “Done. You’re all dry now.” You return to your feet, itching to get away from him before you’re swallowed by the urge to yank his hair back again and latch your mouth against his throat. “Let me tidy this up first and—”

Your sentence ends in a short gasp when his arms tangle around your waist once more, and the next time you blink, you find yourself pinned down to the bed, his knee placed just between your thighs, dangerously close to your core. His face hovers just above yours, his lips twitching into a smirk as he gazes down at you with a hint of naughtiness in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in until the tips of your noses are mere millimeters away from brushing against each other. “Making my favorite food for dinner. Preparing my bath and drying my hair. You’ve been so good to me today.” With your chin trapped between lean fingers, he angles your head to the side, his breath fanning the skin below your ear. “I think my sweet girl deserves a little reward.” His voice is beyond seductive, awakening all the butterflies inside you. “Tell me what you want, baby. Let me take care of you this time.”

You grip the sheets underneath you, your heart thumping in anticipation. “I can ask for... anything?”

He chuckles, the sound low and tantalizing, his nose probing against the pulsating vein on your neck. “Anything.”

You swallow thickly, a thousand different wishes bursting into your head at once.

“T-then… I want you to…” ***

Continue to Part 2

#sung jinwoo #sung jin woo #solo leveling #jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jin woo x reader #jinwoo smut #jinwoo fluff #jinwoo #solo leveling smut #sung jinwoo smut #solo leveling fics #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo x y/n #kana.fics #fics.pillowtalk

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anaquariusfox · 1 year ago

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I spent the evening looking into this AI shit and made a wee informative post of the information I found and thought all artists would be interested and maybe help yall?

edit: forgot to mention Glaze and Nightshade to alter/disrupt AI from taking your work into their machines. You can use these and post and it will apparently mess up the AI and it wont take your content into it's machine!

edit: ArtStation is not AI free! So make sure to read that when signing up if you do! (this post is also on twt)

[Image descriptions: A series of infographics titled: “Opt Out AI: [Social Media] and what I found.” The title image shows a drawing of a person holding up a stack of papers where the first says, ‘Terms of Service’ and the rest have logos for various social media sites and are falling onto the floor. Long transcriptions follow.

Instagram/Meta (I have to assume Facebook).

Hard for all users to locate the “opt out” options. The option has been known to move locations.

You have to click the opt out link to submit a request to opt out of the AI scraping. *You have to submit screenshots of your work/face/content you posted to the app, is curretnly being used in AI. If you do not have this, they will deny you.

Users are saying after being rejected, are being “meta blocked”

People’s requests are being accepted but they still have doubts that their content won’t be taken anyways.

Twitter/X

As of August 2023, Twitter’s ToS update:

“Twitter has the right to use any content that users post on its platform to train its AI models, and that users grant Twitter a worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free license to do so.”

There isn’t much to say. They’re doing the same thing Instagram is doing (to my understanding) and we can’t even opt out.

Tumblr

They also take your data and content and sell it to AI models.

But you’re in luck!

It is very simply to opt out (Wow. Thank Gods)

Opt out on Desktop: click on your blog > blog settings > scroll til you see visibility options and it’ll be the last option to toggle

Out out of Mobile: click your blog > scroll then click visibility > toggle opt out option

TikTok

I took time skim their ToS and under “How We Use Your Information” and towards the end of the long list: “To train and improve our technology, such as our machine learning models and algorithms.”

Regarding data collected; they will only not sell your data when “where restricted by applicable law”. That is not many countries. You can refuse/disable some cookies by going into settings > ads > turn off targeted ads.

I couldn’t find much in AI besides “our machine learning models” which I think is the same thing.

What to do?

In this age of the internet, it’s scary! But you have options and can pick which are best for you!

Accepting these platforms collection of not only your artwork, but your face! And not only your faces but the faces of those in your photos. Your friends and family. Some of those family members are children! Some of those faces are minors! I shudder to think what darker purposes those faces could be used for.

Opt out where you can! Be mindful and know the content you are posting is at risk of being loaded to AI if unable to opt out.

Fully delete (not archive) your content/accounts with these platforms. I know it takes up to 90 days for instagram to “delete” your information. And even keep it for “legal” purposes like legal prevention.

Use lesser known social media platforms! Some examples are; Signal, Mastodon, Diaspora, et. As well as art platforms: Artfol, Cara, ArtStation, etc.

The last drawing shows the same person as the title saying, ‘I am, by no means, a ToS autistic! So feel free to share any relatable information to these topics via reply or qrt!

I just wanted to share the information I found while searching for my own answers cause I’m sure people have the same questions as me.’ \End description] (thank you @a-captions-blog!)

#anti ai #ethics

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drwhataretheodds · 2 months ago

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GOOD MORNING! here is my attempt to recap everything we've found so far on deltarune.com

for those unaware, last night toby released a new newsletter giving information about deltarune's release date. he also released a clip of an alternate ending for the sweepstakes for if silence would've been chosen instead of freedom. (for those even MORE unaware, the spamton sweepstakes were a 2022 2-day event raising money for a charity where all sorts of hidden pages were shown on the DR website.

now, my (and many other people's) immediate reaction to seeing this, as well as this passage in the newsletter,

was that surely the site had been updated with some new content. and it has, a lot of it! and so this is my attempt to document everything so far.

/sweepstakes/silence/

youtube

this page features this short video revealing the alternate ending for the sweepstakes. in it, spamton a. spamton is simply wiped out of existence. not that exciting, but fun to see!

the page also includes a barren version of the main /sweepstakes website, with all the text deleted.

HOWEVER! at the bottom of this page, we can see two links. both of these lead to pages already found in the ORIGINAL run of the sweepstakes.

the rest of this will be under the cut, to avoid spoilers for those interested in exploring the site themselves.

/code

this page is accessible by clicking on the purple square. it was originally found from the main sweepstakes page, on the listing for noelles "fur-thentic cardboard box" from chapter 2. this link leads to the /catpetterz page of noelle's blog, which explains how the Cat Petterz 2 breeding system works. it ends in "Until one day..." which leads to /egg, continuing the story on the previous page. the link at end of /egg brings you to /code, which links back to /egg.

nothing seems to be actually changed on this version of the site, and it only serves as a way to get you back onto /egg.

/egg

this page has all the same text as the 2022 version of the site did, with one exception: the text "secret cats" is now a link! this link leads to /rain.

/rain

this page is an as of yet unseen post from noelle's blog. she describes the experience of staying home from school because of the rain, and a friend coming over to play cat petters. this friend is called "she," making it unlikely to be kris, and as this story takes place in her childhood, it's unlikely to be susie. the postscript says that her friend came over because "she thought that means that I was going to pet HER," which makes me think it might've been catti? if anyone else has any theories, let me know.

the rest of the page discovers another one of noelle's strange cat petters glitches. her "guide to the rarities of different cats" includes "blue ora (aura?)," "rock & roll," and "angle wing" and "super holy angle wing" are listed at 0% and 00000% respectively. another addition to the pile of mysterious connections between noelle and angel symbolism....

she also describes finding a cat that "lowered the amounts of point she had," making her die immediately. the MOST significant thing on this page by far though is a link to "try it yourself," which leads to a simulation of the cat petters minigame she described.

/rarecats

this page links to a cat collecting minigame. one of these green dancing cats will bounce around the screen like the DVD logo, and clicking on it gives an amount of points. the tab title simply displays the number of points so far.

cat-001.gif

this cat gives 10 points. it's probably the "normal" cat that noelle describes.

cat-002.gif

this cat gives 50 points. it's probably the "blue ora" cat that noelle describes.

cat-005.gif

this cat gives 250 points, and plays a guitar chord instead of the sparkling sounds that clicking the other 2 does. it's probably the "rock & roll" cat that noelle describes.

cat-006.gif

this cat gives 1000 points, and plays a very dramatic musical flourish. it also causes a window sprite to briefly appear before disappearing, as seen below.

this sprite links to the /windows page when clicked on. this cat is probably the "ANGLE WING!!!!" cat that noelle describes.

cat-007.gif

this cat gives 3000, and also generates a window sprite linking to the /windows page. it plays a more extended musical flourish as well. it is probably the "SUPER HOLY ANGlE WING!!!!" cat that noelle describes.

other cats

cat-003.gif

this cat looks like a yellow version of the "blue ora" cat. i don't think there's a way to get this cat in the game.

cat-004.gif

this cat looks like the "rock & roll" cat without the flame effect. i don't think there's a way to get this cat in the game.

cat-008.gif

this cat seems to be an even more powered version of the other two angel cats. it may be possible to get in game with even smaller odds, but since noelle's page only lists 2 "angle cats" i think it's unlikely.

cat-009.gif

this is a png of the yellow and pink smile that appears in spamton's basement. the inclusion of it here suggests to me that it is in fact some kind of "cheshire cat" character/allusion, like people have theorized before!

/windows

this page is simply the stained glass window sprite from /rarecats looped over and over. the tab title reads "Are you forgetting something?" each of these links to a page with the words "forest" "grow" "lost" "the" "where" and "would," in seemingly random order. an example of a few of these are

/wherewouldforestlostgrowthe /thegrowlostwouldforestwhere /thewheregrowwouldforestlost /growwherethelostforestwould

only one of these actually leads anywhere, the rest all lead to the "dogcheck" page which is the default for broken links on deltarune.com.

/lostwheretheforestwouldgrow

this page contains an image of a tree, overlayed with an edited version of the water image that seems to be a recurring motif in deltarune, used most recently in "jockington grows the beard". clicking on it plays a solemn piano chord. after clicking a few times, it instead links to /window. the tab title reads "ROOTS."

/window

this page contains the same repeating stained glass windows as /window did. the tab title once again reads "Are you forgetting something?" this time, each links to page with the letters "cdeehhilnooprrt", in seemingly random order. an example of a few of these are

/lonpecrrohedhit /pdolhehrnriceto /ecrorltipendhoh /creohnptredilho

once again, only one of them leads anywhere.

/thepoorchildren

this page is another black screen. this time, you have the ability to draw with the mouse. clicking creates a trail of white squares. the tab title reads "Therapy".

drawing in the middle of the image for around a minute causes a sprite of the "egg room" tree to slowly fade in.

after drawing for a bit, the tree will move to the front and become clickable. clicking on this just returns you to the /egg page mentioned earlier.

as far as i can see, this is everything to be found on the "noelle's blog" side of updates, the ones accessible from the purple square. unfortunately, tumblr has a limit for how many images i can include in a post, so the stuff from the other link i will include in a reblog! be sure to check it out, it's where stuff gets REALLY crazy!

#deltarune #undertale #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune chapter 4 #dr #utdr #toby fox #Youtube

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noirscript · 2 months ago

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Where the Ivy Grows

Pairing: Yandere!Tutor x Childhood Friend!Reader Description: You built a quiet life in his absence—but Seraphim D’Aronn has returned, and he’s come to collect what was always his. Warning/s: Yandere | Emotional Manipulation | Power Imbalance | Implied Coercion | Gaslighting | Possessive Behavior | Contractual Relationship Note/s: Enjoy this Clerivan Pellet-inspired character. This man... god... um, hehe. Oh, Dark Roast v2 is up on my ko-fi and you can get it half the price by clicking the link below. ^^ Commissions are also open to those interested.

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast v2

You never heard the carriage wheels.

The town was too quiet for that, muffled under the thick blanket of summer heat and your own routine of pretending you weren’t waiting for something to go wrong.

You’re out back, hanging washed linens on the line, sleeves rolled past your elbows, neck damp with sweat, when the first shadow falls across the hem of a sheet fluttering in the breeze. You freeze, peg suspended in your fingers. You don’t need to look. You know who it is.

You feel it in the silence.

“…You’re early.”

Your voice is calm, but there’s a tremor. You hate it. You’ve had three years to learn how to hide that—ever since you signed what you thought was a generous marriage contract, eyes tired and stomach hollow from grief and debt. Three years to convince yourself it wasn’t entrapment, just kindness delivered with a bit too much pressure.

But Seraphim D’Aronn is never early.

He’s exactly on time. Always.

You turn slowly, shielding your eyes against the sun, and there he is—taller than memory allows, a quiet monument in cream linen, silver-trimmed coat hanging over one arm. His hair is longer than before, nearly brushing his waist, gathered at the nape with a deep blue ribbon. Not a strand out of place. His sapphire eyes are unreadable behind the glint of thin-rimmed spectacles.

He smiles.

“I missed you.”

It’s not a lie. But it’s not love either.

At least, not the kind you want.

You swallow. “You said you wouldn’t be back until winter.”

“I had a change of heart.”

Of course he did.

The children of the Eldermont Duchy must be fully grown now. Old enough not to need their calm, intelligent tutor with the kind smile and frighteningly precise memory. And Seraphim… Seraphim keeps his promises, but only the ones he chooses to keep.

You step aside instinctively as he moves closer, hands clasped behind his back like he’s afraid to touch you too soon. He’s always done that—delayed gratification in its most polite, invasive form. Never force, never cruelty. Just control.

The only thing he ever wanted more than your love was your obedience.

“I brought something.” He nods toward the house. “Where should I set the luggage?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you retreat into the house. You tell yourself it’s for the tea.

• • — ✦ — • •

The kitchen feels smaller with him in it. He moves like a ghost—quiet, careful, but always there. Always watching. His eyes linger on your back a bit too long as you fill the kettle. You pretend not to notice. Pretend you don’t feel like a bird locking itself back into a gilded cage.

“Did you get the letters I sent?” His voice is mild.

“I did.”

“You didn’t reply.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

A beat of silence.

“I missed you.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll keep saying it,” he murmurs. “Until you believe me.”

You set the cups down harder than intended.

Seraphim doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he steps closer, his gaze lowered, expression soft. “You’ve done well here. The garden looks lovely. And the ivy—you’ve been trimming it back yourself, haven’t you?”

You nod, unsure whether to feel proud or wary. He’s praising your efforts, the life you’ve built in his absence. But you don’t trust praise from a man who once convinced you that a signature was just a formality.

He leans against the counter beside you, close enough for his shoulder to almost brush yours. His scent is familiar—books, bergamot, and the faint metallic note of ink. It clings to him like memory.

“You look tired,” he murmurs. “Have you been sleeping poorly?”

“No more than usual.”

“I could help,” he offers. “The tincture I gave you last spring—”

“I stopped taking it.”

That finally earns a visible reaction.

His lips press together, thin with disappointment, but he doesn’t argue. He never argues. Not when it matters.

“I see,” he says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

You serve the tea in silence.

• • — ✦ — • •

That night, he didn’t ask to share your bed. He merely occupies it.

You find him already seated on the edge when you return from brushing your hair, unbuttoning his shirt with slow, practiced fingers. The golden strands fall like liquid light down his back as he sets his glasses on the nightstand.

He speaks without looking up.

“I’ve requested that the Eldermont Duchy forward the remainder of my holdings to this estate. I will no longer be returning to the Capital.”

Your heart stutters.

“Seraphim—”

“I’m not asking for permission.”

Of course he isn’t.

You feel the words rising in your throat, the old ones—I never wanted this, you tricked me, you said I could leave—but you’ve said them before. Quietly, uselessly. They always slip past him like smoke. He never denies them. He just… reminds you.

“You signed a lifetime clause,” he says softly, as if reading your thoughts. “Nullification only occurs in death.”

You sit down heavily at the foot of the bed.

“You always leave that part out.”

His voice warms, almost gentle. “Because I don’t plan to die.”

You shiver.

He moves closer, lifting the blanket with a reverent touch. The mattress dips as he settles beside you. For a long moment, neither of you speak. His hand hovers inches from yorus, close enough for the heat to leach into your skin. But he doesn’t touch you. Not yet.

“I remember the day you smiled at me for the first time,” he says softly. “We were children. I’d fallen in the river trying to catch that stupid dragonfly. You pulled me out. I cried.”

You stare at your knees.

“You were just a boy.”

“I’m still that boy,” he whispers. “But now I can protect you.”

You close your eyes.

“From what, Seraphim?”

He doesn’t answer.

Because the answer is everything. Including yourself.

• • — ✦ — • •

The days stretch slowly.

He doesn’t try to cage you physically. You still go to the market. Still tend the garden. Still breathe air that feels free. But his presence coils through the house like ivy—unassuming, patient, inescapable. He renovates the library, expands the study, commissions furniture with your initials carved into the wood.

A matching desk.

Matching chairs.

Matching tea cups.

“I thought we could use more symmetry,” he explains, setting the pair of porcelain cups onto the shelf. His expression is serene. “Married life should reflect harmony.”

You say nothing.

He never forces you to speak.

But you wonder if that’s worse.

Because silence lets your mind slip into dangerous things. It lets you notice the quiet click of the study’s lock when he’s inside. Lets you realize the ledger drawer is always locked. Lets you catch the glint of obsidian wax on sealed envelopes addressed to names you don’t recognize.

One morning, you reach for his coat by the doorway—and find a letter tucked into the break pocket.

The seal is broken.

The handwriting isn’t his.

You only have seconds. You skin. Seraphim, your return is noted. The children ask after you still. Have you truly no interest in the family’s daughter? You could’ve had her, you know. The Duchess was prepared to endorse you.

You feel ill.

A rustle behind you.

You turn too fast, nearly dropping the letter.

He’s there, quiet as snow, holding two steaming cups of tea.

“I thought we might read together today,” he says calmly.

You place the letter back without meeting his gaze.

• • — ✦ — • •

But summer’s end, he’s teaching again.

Not children. Just you.

He fills the shelves with books—history, finance, alchemy, etiquette. At first, you resist. Then relent. Then find yourself waking to find him already preparing ink and parchment before you’ve even yawned.

“Your mind is sharp,” he says one day, during a break. “Wasted on manual labor and petty errands. I’ll never forgive them for stifling you.”

“Who?”

“Everyone who didn’t see your worth.”

You look away.

He reaches over, brushing a curl behind your ear. “Including yourself.”

You don’t recoil.

That’s the worst part.

Because something—sometimes—when he smiles like that, when his voice dips into something painfully tender, you feel something like safety.

And you hate yourself for it.

• • — ✦ — • •

That winter, snow blankets the fields. Seraphim starts reading aloud by the fire. His voice is smooth, musical. You wonder how the heirs of the Eldermont Duchy ever let him go. You wonder what kind of man turns his back on nobility for a locked house in a backwater town.

You ask him once—only once—why he left.

He closes the book slowly, looks at you over his glasses.

“I had everything there. Position. Wealth. Power.” He sets the book down, fingers lingering on the leather spine. “But not you.”

You want to scream.

But you don’t.

Because there is something terrifying in the way he says your name afterward. Not loud. Not desperate. Just… final.

• • — ✦ — • •

He touches you more often now. Brief, polite gestures—hand on your lower back, fingers brushing yours while you shell peas, palm cupping your cheek when you nod off in the study. It feels natural. Like a husband should. Like love should.

But it isn’t.

It’s possession wrapped in silk.

And still, you endure.

You wonder what’s worse—his touch or the absence of it.

You wonder how many others he’s ensnared with words like sugar.

You wonder if he would ever let you go.

You know the answer.

• • — ✦ — • •

One night, unable to sleep, you find him in the study again.

He’s writing letters, glasses low on his nose, ink pooling in the curve of his wrist as he writes line after elegant line. His expression is soft. Focused. He doesn’t hear you at first.

Then he does.

And he smiles.

“My darling,” he says, standing. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head.

He opens his arms, and like the fool you’ve become, you walk into them.

He holds you, careful and still.

Then he whispers against your temple:

“You were always going to be mine. Even if it took a lifetime.”

You feel the contract in your bones then—not paper, not ink. But steel.

You wonder if, in another life, you would’ve loved him freely.

You wonder if he would’ve waited.

But you know this isn’t that life.

And Seraphim D’Aronn doesn’t wait.

He decides.

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

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tacticalhimbo · 9 months ago

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HURRICANE HELENE RELIEF

Since I'm incredibly anxious and very much annoyed, I'm compiling this post as a sort of master list of relief organizations and individual fundraisers for those in the path of Hurricane Helene.

Many of the links I post on this won't be individuals, but I encourage those within the path to add their links to this post in reblogs! Likewise, if you have any organizations / volunteer / grassroots efforts y'all would like to share, please do so!

LAST EDITED: 9/29/2024 - MAKE SURE TO CHECK REBLOGS FOR UPDATES!

My list is particularly focused on widely accessible resources, as well as Florida specific resources since... I'm from Florida.

(INTER)NATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS

American Red Cross - The American Red Cross is on the ground helping people as Hurricane Helene approaches land as a very dangerous storm. Helene may produce winds over 150 mph, a massive 20-foot-high storm surge and as much as a foot of rain. Prolonged power outages and tornadoes may occur. The effects will be felt hundreds of miles inland including in Georgia and the Carolinas.

FEMA Disaster Assistance Improvement Program - The Disaster Assistance Improvement Program’s (DAIP) mission is to provide disaster survivors with information, support, services, and a means to access and apply for disaster assistance through joint data-sharing efforts between federal, tribal, state, local, and private sector partners.

Roll Mobility - An application that equips wheelchair users with reliable information about the accessibility of restaurants, public spaces, businesses, trails, and parking areas. Good information to have on hand, especially for those evacuating from their home areas.

Warmline Directory - Providing extensive yet accessible resources that empower individuals to find the mental health and wellness resources they need through a directory containing accurate and in-depth information. For those unfamiliar: Unlike a crisis line, a warm line operator is unlikely to call the police or have someone locked up if they talk about suicidal or self-harming thoughts or behaviors. A good resource for individuals in mental distress due to natural disaster circumstances.

Food Not Bombs - Recovers food that would have been discarded and share it as a way of protesting war and poverty. They also reduce food waste and meet the direct need of communities by collecting discarded food, preparing vegan meals that they share with the hungry while providing literature about the need to change our society. Food Not Bombs also provides food to protesters and striking workers and organizes food relief after natural and political crisis.

Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies - The Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies (The Partnership) is the only U.S. disability-led, 501(c)(3) organization that prioritizes equity, access, disability rights, disability justice, and full inclusion of people with disabilities, older adults, and people with access and functional needs before, during and after disasters and emergencies.

FLORIDA

Volunteer Florida Disaster Fund - The Florida Disaster Fund is the State of Florida’s official private fund established to assist Florida’s communities as they respond to and recover during times of emergency or disaster. In partnership with the public sector, private sector and other non-governmental organizations, the Florida Disaster Fund supports response and recovery activities.

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 52 Organizations Listed)

GEORGIA

TENNESSEE

NORTH CAROLINA

Beloved Asheville - A community-led coalition dedicated to providing home, healthy, equity, and opportunity for all.

Triangle NC - This links to another post I've made, but Triangle Mutual Aid is organizing supply drop offs as well as financial support.

SOUTH CAROLINA

INDIVIDUAL FUNDRAISERS

Support a Resilient Family Seeking a New Home - LINK ; Tumblr @junpei-iori-ace-defective (Close Friend of the Affected) | Fundraiser Text Below:

My name is Adam. I'm not the best at this; I never thought I'd have to do this, but my family and I lost our home on September 26th due to the hurricane Helene here in Florida. No one in our area thought it would get bad, but we didn't have any rain. All of a sudden, the water rose, and by midnight, our home was flooded with three feet of water. I had to carry our pets to the neighbors and my disabled wife through five feet of water. Then, my elderly disabled mother and grandmother through the water. We lost all of our clothes and many of our belongings, and our landlord will be having us move out. We have nowhere to go, so today I'm asking for help from the kindness of the world. Anything can help. If I can get enough to get us into a new home, it would be a blessing. Thank you all, and God bless.

Help Rebuild Lives After Devastating Flash Flood - LINK ; Tumblr @undeadnecromancer (Close Friend of the Affected) | Fundraiser Text Below:

On September 27, after being trapped in a flash flood for 5 hours, my father, Jeffrey Fuller, and sister, Kayla Fuller, left with their lives ❤️ but lost everything else. My father had set his life up to be simple and enjoyable. He didn't have a lot extra, but he had everything he needed, and now all of that is gone. Unfortunately, he did not have flood insurance, and the older you get, the harder it is to bounce back from something like this. For a man who has always shown up for everyone he loves, he needs us to show up now. Please help my father rebuild.

If you have seen the video circulating around from Jeffrey Fuller where it looks like a river is going through his house and he ends it with a “Love you all,” you have seen what has brought on this devastation.

Hurricane Helene Aftermath Help - LINK ; Tumblr @moonenjoyer (Affected Individual) | Fundraiser Text Below:

Man I hate to do this but I'm in Valdosta, one of the cities hit the worse by Hurricane Helene. It's BAD here. In particular, there's no estimate of when we'll get power back. Word on the street is it could be a week or longer.

I work from home and going without power that long, I won't be making any money. Meanwhile my groceries are all spoiled in a fridge with no power and my car is on E. All the gas stations are down atm and when they're back up I KNOW gas prices are going to be crazy high because of all of this. In fact, EVERYTHING is going to be more expensive for a while because of this.

If you have anything to spare to help me with gas and groceries and just surviving this, I'd really appreciate it. If not, a reblog/share would mean a lot. Thank you ❤️

Save Nate and Amanda's First Home - Urgent Hurricane Needs - LINK ; Tumblr @luckyfirerabbit (Affected Individual) | Fundraiser Text Below:

Hi. I'm Porter Henderson. This isn't about me, though. You’re going to see a lot of fundraisers with Hurricane Helene. This might be a little different.

You see, I’m writing this on behalf of my landlords and friends, Nate and Amanda. The home we share with an additional disabled man in Lithonia, Georgia had some repairs that they couldn't afford, made much worse by the hurricane. They'd been limping along like everyone dealing with inflation and underemployment, but the situation has become urgent, and they need and deserve help.

Nate and Amanda have been my friends for over a decade, and when they heard I was no longer able to work and in a bad situation, they offered me a place in their first home. I told them I wasn’t sure what or when I would be able to pay. They told me that if I ever won my disability case I could start paying rent then.

You see, I'm trying so hard to save this home because they’ve tried so hard to save me.

I was so grateful to move in, and they treated me like family. When I lost the ability to drive, they made sure I got to my doctor’s appointments, and still do. When I can’t afford food, they take me to food banks, and what I can’t find there they’ll help me get at the store. They meet all the needs they could reasonably meet, and then a couple more.

I’ve lived here for three years now, and they’ve never stopped assuring me that I am wanted, even if I can’t contribute to the household on a daily basis. They have never let me go without if there was any other way. They have helped friends and strangers every time they have seen a need. They are unfailingly honest, incredibly trustworthy, and extremely hardworking people.

They've never had much, but they've shared everything they have.

Now, though, the hurricane turned a seem in our roof into a gushing waterfall, and finally into a large hole in Nate and Amanda's bedroom ceiling.

We tarped the leaking roof from the inside to channel out as much water as we could, but with a literal hurricane outside, there’s only so much that you can do.

The three of us who couldn’t get into the attic pushed our chronically ill bodies past their limits, dragging furniture away from walls, hauling totes as fast as we could with our canes, shoving empty containers into the corner as we kicked the debris out, and researching strategies for how to deal with the nightmare. Later we would wade through flooding water to dump out rain and tie down loose trash cans, shine lights and relay directions from the attic to outside, as we all attempted to get the water venting outside the house.

To make matters worse, the HVAC needs to be replaced. It’s a seventeen year old system, with a huge crack in the (inaccessible) drain pan and a bad motherboard. Some friends pooled money with Nate and Amanda to get a couple of window air conditioners for the summer. With medications that make three of us sensitive to heat, it’s been a rough summer, but we got through.

Unfortunately, winter is a few weeks away, and it’s going to be a little less than seventeen thousand for a new system to be installed.

What makes it an emergency however, is that without the drying and air movement of the AC, trying to dehumidify everything is going to be even harder, giving us a greater chance of mold. If mold takes hold, I'm not sure if we can save the house.

This fundraiser is for the $2,500 hurricane deductible that we're almost certainly going to be charged by the homeowner's policy and the $17,000 for the HVAC, plus estimated fees for the platform.

Not included in the total are any cleaning supplies, or a tiny storage unit and rental truck if we need one to store all of their bedroom furniture while the roof is redone. (We won't know about any of that until we get the estimate from insurance/roofing.) The claim has already been filed.

The air conditioning is a pre-existing problem, and I've found no way for it to be covered by any charity, government program, or private programs in the state. The ones that my social worker knew about didn't apply (I applied anyway) and I let her know about two more that I found. The religious groups I've reached out to in my area don't work in anything but clothing, children's furniture, and durable medical goods.

If additional costs emerge, or anything ends up being less expensive, I will update and adjust the goal accordingly as soon as I find out.

Please help these genuinely good people. The smallest donation helps. So does sharing.

Thank you in advance.

#txt #important #hurricane helene #mutual aid #florida #georgia #north carolina #south carolina #tennessee #long post #hurricane posting

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madaboutmunson · 3 months ago

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Tag, You’re It

For the dailydrabble prompt 'Tag, You're It' by @strangerthingswritersguild

Ao3 Link

“No-no-no Sheepies. Eddie doesn’t do sports,” Eddie drawled lying back on the grassy hillside and pulling his sunglasses over his eyes.

There was a collective groan from the kids.

“It’s not even sports,” Dustin complained, “It’s more like...uh...like capturing a castle.”

“Capturing a castle?” Eddie scoffed, peering over the top of his sunglasses. “Aren’t you all a little old to be chasing one another around in a field, defending a tree stump?” He was aware of how hypocritical this was, only a few weekends ago he had been charging around a forest defending a tree stump of his own, albeit in character.

A frustrated blush rose to Mike’s face, “It’s not like that. It’s timed and-and there's a prize. Well two. And if you capture the stump you add a rule.”

“A prize?” Eddie yawned and leaned back on his hands on the grass.

“You’re not selling this,” Lucas huffed at Mike.

“Sinclair’s right you’re not. Be Gone!” Eddie sighed wearily and waved them away.

“Come on Eddie it’s embarrassing out there, the girls have Steve on their team,” Dustin whined.

“He’s only playing to spite me,” Mike grumbled folding his arms.

“He asked if we wanted some help, and genius Mike here laughed and said he had too much hairspray in to be on the boy’s team,” Lucas griped, “Now he’s kicking our ass, especially with his stupid rules.”

“Stupid rules?” Eddie asked with a deeper sigh. He was not interested in the game itself but he figured they weren’t moving, so he might as well get the gossip.

“Every time he gets the stump he makes up a rule so none of us can tag him,” Mike scowled.

“Huh? You can make up a rule that you can’t be tagged? Sounds like a glaring pit fall in the rules system here,” Eddie chuckled.

“No. He’ll say we can only tag him if we compliment him, or tell him he’s the best, or sing, or something,” Lucas added.

“Sounds pretty easy to me?” Eddie said looking between the three high-schoolers pausing for them, but its clear all the running had put their brains out to lunch, “Just say the thing.”

“NO WAY!” They yelled in unison.

“If you wanna win, sometimes you gotta swallow your pride guys. Now if you could stop casting your shadows so I can catch some rays, and take your putrid aromas with you, that would be splendid. Thanks.”

The three of them huddled up. Eddie could hear them muttering.

“What if we got you some beers?” Dustin asked, “Or a new D&D module?”

“Where are you pipsqueaks gonna get alcohol from?” Eddie laughed.

“The Christmas stash my mom has, she won’t notice anything is missing, Nancy, has taken a whole vodka bottle from it before,” Mike replied.

Eddie sat up, “I’m listening. Why do you wanna win so badly anyway?”

“At first it was for a bag of candy and who gets to choose the next film at the movies, but now we just really wanna beat Steve, he’s mocking us out there.”

Eddie peeked around the trio and true enough Steve Harrington looked pretty damn pleased with himself, and pretty damn cute. He was wearing very fitted athletic shorts and a snug white tank top that clung to his broad shoulders, as anyone in their right mind would being doing that close to Steve, sweat patches making it almost translucent in places, with his chest hair poking out the top. If that wasn't bad enough he was celebrating by flexing his muscles to mock the boys. Eddie took a deep inhale of breath, because he didn't realise he had been holding it.

“Alright, I’ll win it for you, but I don’t wanna hear a peep out you three begging me for shit the rest of the summer. Got it?”

They nodded in unison as Eddie got up, dusted off his denim cutoffs and tank top and pushed his sunglasses into his hair.

“Let’s take down a King,” Eddie grinned with malevolence.

Steve frowned as they approached the field again, “Munson? You joining us?”

“Yeah, thought I’d even the teams out. I heard the numbers were uneven?”

“And you’re the one to bring balance to the game?” Steve asked raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Eddie said confidently, with his hands on his hips.

A laugh bubbled out of Steve getting louder until he was doubled over.

Eddie’s lip twitched, but he keeps his cool, “Well are we playing or what?”

The teams spaced out, and Eddie flexed his fingers, and bolted for the stump as soon as Robin blew the whistle.

His team mates flanked him but each of them fell, tackled by Max, El, and Erica.

Just as Eddie was about to leap for the stump Harrington beats him to it.

“Freeze!” Robin shouted and Eddie sneered at being stuck in place, “Go ahead, Steve.”

Harrington tapped his chin thoughtfully, “You can only tag me if you recite me a poem.”

There was a collective groan, but Eddie grinned.

“Ok unfreeze,” Robin called out, and Eddie hopped up on the stump crowding Steve.

“Roses are red, Violets are blue, Sugar is sweet,” he said smoothly before looking over Steve, “But not as sweet as you big boy.”

Steve didn’t budge, looked confused at Eddie.

“Stump is Eddie’s,” Robin officiated.

“No that’s didn’t even rhyme properly!” Steve complained at Robin.

“Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme,” Eddie smirked.

“Yeah it does!” Steve frowned.

“Steve I made my ruling. Eddie gets the stump, and the longer you stand there whining the more time you waste. You’ve got less than five minutes left.”

Steve huffed down his nose and stomped back to his starting position on the field.

“Eddie, your rule?”

“Uh that’s easy you have to tell me I’m real pretty.” He smiled wide and batted his eyelashes, as the girls rolled their eyes.

Robin shook her head but blew the whistle anyway. The others charged towards the stump. Harrington was way too fast for anyone to get there before him, and he slapped Eddie’s leg with his hand.

“Tag, stump’s mine,” Steve said.

Eddie looked down on him with glee, “Uh-uh you gotta say it.”

Steve’s face was a picture, contorting with effort as he looked up at Eddie, “YOUREREALPRETTY” he said quickly and weirdly loudly.

Eddie tossed his hair with his hand, “I didn’t know you cared Harrington.” Steve blushed hard. He smiled toothily and hopped down from the stump sauntering back to his starting position with no complaint, he knew the clock was ticking.

“What are you doing?” Dustin said through gritted teeth, “You said you’d win.”

“Oh but I am,” Eddie smirked and gestured to a confused looking Steve and Robin tapping her watch at him.

“Ok! Ok. It’s hard to think of one. Alright! Geez! You have to say...uh...you have to say I’m the smartest man in the universe.” Steve said and gathered up the girls for a huddle and pointed at Eddie.

Robin blew the whistle, and Eddie nimbly dodged the flying tackles from the girls. They were fast, but Eddie had that feral energy coursing through him now. He got to the foot of the stump and spanked Steve’s backside. “Tag,” he said slyly and grabbed onto Steve’s hips to hoist himself up onto the stump.

He looked right into Steve’s eyes, “It’s my stump, smartest man in the universe,” punctuating his words with a wink.

Steve didn’t say anything, just stared, dropped off the stump, and went back to the starting position. Eddie knew he’d rattled him and the next thing Steve wouldn’t do. No way.

“Eddie! Rule?” Robin said a little exasperated

“A kiss,” Eddie said.

“No way there are kids here!” Robin said.

“I didn’t say they had to kiss me directly, they can blow me a kiss”

Robin turned to the kids. They were all yelling at her about the time and didn’t seem to care.

“Alright, but for the record, I’m against this” she reluctantly blew the whistle, and just like Eddie predicted Steve was thrown, he was tackling the boys hoping one of the girls would head for the stump but they wouldn’t go for it.

Eddie looked smug, striking a mock-heroic pose as he flexed his much smaller, toned muscles with theatrical pride, fully aware of the irony. He grinned to himself, already picturing how he was going to be sipping cocktails on the porch tonight. His thoughts were broken by an angry Erica screaming, “Just do it sailor man! Go over there and blow that long haired freak a kiss!”

“We’ve only got ten seconds left!” Max complained shoving Mike to the floor.

“Yes Steve I don’t want to watch the same movie all summer,” El said.

The boys understood the assignment and made kissy noises at Steve to mock him.

Eddie rocked on his heels with a huge smile as he watched the last few seconds tick down.

Until he felt a slap on his hand and he was confronted with a furious Steve

Eddie raised his eyebrows with confidence, “Well Howdy there Big b-“

And before he knew what was happening, he heard a collective gasp and “Steve’s stump! That’s time, come on nerds,” Robin added.

Eddie felt pressure on his lips, heat on the sides of his face. Steve was kissing him and was grabbing his face. He was rendered speechless. Steve smiled. Eddie suddenly felt hands on his shoulders as he was pushed off the stump and landed on his ass with a thud, almost as hard as his heart was hammering in his chest.

He could hear the boys complaining and the girls cheering. He shrugged at them in apology, heart pounding and face burning, trying to suppress the chaos spiralling in his chest from that kiss. He pulled down his sunglasses and quickly tried to walk back to his van, before he had a public crisis.

He was nearly at his sanctuary when he heard the rapid footsteps on the gravel path behind him, “Hey! Wait up!”

Eddie’s stomach dropped to the depths of the abyss, twisting with something hot and familiar. Dread, maybe, or anticipation. He couldn't tell. He could run, but that would look worse. He stopped and turned on his heel.

“You didn’t shake my hand,” Steve frowned a little out of breath.

“What?” was all Eddie could manage.

“We beat you, we're supposed to shake hands after. No hard feelings. Sportspersonship stuff.” Steve tried again, extending his hand towards Eddie.

“Oh, yeah. No hard feelings here. It was literally just tag, man. You’re good.” Eddie laughed it off, eager to get away.

“You won’t shake my hand? Is it because of what I did?” Steve asked and Eddie could hear the shame in his voice, and he couldn’t have that. Not with those sad puppy dog eyes looking so wounded at him.

“Look. I set the rule. You just wanted the win real bad,” Eddie said, trying to sound breezy, though his voice wavered just enough to betray the heat still lingering on his cheeks. "It’s not a problem,” Eddie said and extended his hand.

Steve's smile brightened as they shook on it but as Eddie tried to let go, he found Steve gripping his hand tightly.

“You okay, Steve?” he asked and found himself pulled flush with Steve’s chest, their faces an inch apart. As they collided he was met with the full Harrington experience. The beauty marks, the crooked smile, the flecks of gold in his eyes, the soft swoop of his hair, the heat from his body, and that scent of sun lotion, cologne and sweat. It's enough for him to forcefully replant his feet, so he didn't collapse with how overwhelmed he felt.

“I would have done it sooner without a crowd,” Steve said gently.

“Shook my hand?” Eddie asked nervously, confused but he knew what Steve was getting at.

“If you ever want one again just give me a call,” Steve smirked, leaving a frazzled Eddie standing slack-jawed as he jogged back to the others.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddiemunson #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #fanfiction #madaboutmunson #strangerthingswritersguilddailydrabble #madaboutmunsondrabble

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lovegoodlane · 6 months ago

Text

Pursuing the Prefect - 6

5.5k words

18+ only

Warnings: sexual content, teasing, oral sex [m & f receiving], fingering, vaginal sex

Summary: Fred has a surprise in store for his favorite prefect (soft Fred, sub Fred?, dom Fred)

A/N: This is the final part. Thanks for being patient, figuring out how to end this was tricky. Be sure to check back for more fics soon, I will be working through my requests. Enjoy! <3

Link to part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

——

The Winter Ball was quickly approaching, and students became more antsy as time went on. It was Tuesday, and the ball was scheduled for Saturday night. Almost no one could pay attention in their their classes this week.

You were in Potions, your favorite class of the day. The table groups were hard at work preparing ingredients to make an invisibility potion. Your job was to chop up the knotgrass, and your other table mates collected the remaining ingredients.

The tedious task of mincing up the knotgrass allowed your mind to wander. The past month with Fred had been quite memorable, and your thoughts were overtaken by images of him.

Fred had caught you on your Wednesday night prefect rounds, pulling you into an abandoned classroom. It took only seconds for his lips to crash into yours as he pushed you against the closed door of the room.

He pulled your robes off of your shoulders, tossing them onto a nearby desk. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk, and you knew that you were in for it.

Fred took your hand, bringing you to the front of the room by the professor's desk. He kissed you one more time before gripping you by the hips and bending you over the desk.

"Can you see it now, birdie?" he asked, leaning down over you to talk into your ear. "When you're a professor, I can bend you over your desk anytime."

His hand ran up the back of your thigh, causing your whole body to erupt in a shiver. It took only moments for him to undo his belt and pull up your skirt.

Fred was thrusting into you, causing a whimper to fall from your lips. "Shhhh, little bird. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, huh?" Fred whispered, gripping your waist with his hands.

You bit your lip, trying to keep any sounds from escaping. Fred grabbed at your hair, pulling it as he fucked you over the desk.

You could feel your climax begin to grow, and you pushed your hips back into Fred to meet his pace. A choked groan came from your throat, and Fred reached around to put his hand over your mouth.

"Now what did I say, darling?" he scolded, increasing his pace even more. "Are you really so desperate for all of Hogwarts to hear you scream my name?"

Your hands gripped the edges of the desk, holding on for dear life. Fred could have simply cast a silencing charm, but where was the fun in that?

You were moments your orgasm, pinching your lips together to keep silent. Fred knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was torturous. You were determined to hold it together until his thumb found your clit, marking your downfall.

"Anyone home?" Cedric asked, waving a hand in front of your face. You jolted out of your thoughts, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming. Your cheeks immediately turned a vibrant shade of red.

Cedric chuckled. "It's alright, no one can focus with the Winter Ball happening this week. Even Cho is distracted," he said, trying to reassure you. "Are you still going with Fred?"

You nodded. You had been looking forward to going to the ball with Fred. Ever since the Hufflepuff party and the initial shock to Hogwarts of your relationship, things had been pretty tame. It wasn't the explosion of gossip like you had been expecting.

Cedric pushed back his stool, getting up to peer over into the cauldron. The water was ready, all you needed was to add in the ingredients correctly.

"I might need to memorize how to make this for when I make Cho angry," Cedric joked, looking over at you.

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. You knew her temper all too well. "I'm sure the twins will be picking my brain about the recipe. Godric knows what they would get up to with invisibility potions," you replied, measuring out the knotgrass.

"So do you get to know the plans for the pranks beforehand now that you're with Fred?" Cedric asked, stirring the cauldron.

"Not usually," you answered. "My policy with them is that the less I know about the trouble they get into, the better. I'm not afraid to take away House points when necessary, but I don't want to do it when it's the twins."

"I can't imagine how strange it must be to be a prefect dating the biggest troublemaker at Hogwarts, seems like a conflict of interest," Cedric commented playfully, raising his eyebrows at you. "But it seems like you two get on quite well despite your differences."

You titled your head in consideration. You hadn't thought about the 'conflict of interest' aspect, but who cares? You aren't the only prefect at the school. Someone else can shout at the twins for their misbehaviors.

"Our differences keep things interesting," you said. "If Fred dated someone exactly like him, this school would go up in flames. Someone has to keep him in line."

You and Cedric chuckled, beginning to add ingredients into the cauldron. You felt a flutter of pride in your chest at the fact that Cedric picked up on how well you and Fred worked as a couple. You didn't worry yourself with the approval of others, but it was nice to hear it regardless.

——

You plopped your backpack onto the floor, joining Fred on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. It had become routine for you to visit Fred in the evenings after you finished your homework in the library. He was usually in the common room with his twin playing cards or planning their next prank.

"I heard that you made invisibility potions today," George commented from his place across the room. He was playing cards with Angelina and Lee.

"So what if we did?" you retorted. The advanced Potions class you were in had the opportunity to create more exciting potions that other students weren't allowed to. The invisibility potions were one of the recipes that was not taught to students outside of the class.

"I know a couple of people that could use some of those," Fred chimed in, slinging his arm around your shoulders on the couch.

"Would those people have red hair? Because I've heard that invisibility potions don't work on red heads," you replied, cocking a brow at Fred.

"You might be smart, but you're full of shit," George said, calling your bluff.

You picked up a pillow from the couch and chucked it at him. He caught it with one hand right before it would have smacked him in the face.

"You seem to forget that Fred and I have quidditch reflexes," George said, eyeing his brother mischievously.

"Now!" Fred shouted, picking up another pillow from the couch. He began smacking you with it, and George got up from playing cards to join him. You laughed as the twins continued to hit you with the pillows, a completely harmless attack.

"Do you feel better now?" you asked between giggles. Being with Fred meant that you also began to spend more time with George. You had grown to adore Fred's twin, and it felt like he was your own brother. No one could make you laugh quite like the twins.

"Only a tad," Fred answered, taking the pillow from George so he could return to his card game. "Want to come up to my room?"

Fred tossed the pillows back onto the couch and offered you his hand. You smirked, taking his hand and standing up onto your feet.

George made kissing noises at the two of you, turning around in his chair and wrapping his arms around himself to simulate a make out. This earned a giggle from you.

"There's something called knocking, you git," Fred said to his brother, trying to hide his smile.

"There's also something called a silencing charm, you freak," George replied, now moaning in an attempt to imitate Fred and you.

Your hand flew up to your mouth to try to stifle your laugh. George had a point. For some reason, Fred didn't like using silencing charms. He would prefer for everyone to hear the sounds that you made.

Fred simply yanked your hand and dragged you up the stairs, huffing at his brother. He opened the door to his dormitory, motioning for you to enter.

You had become a regular visitor to his dorm, and he even let you borrow pajamas when you stayed over. Fred crossed to his dresser, pulling off his uniform and putting on a t shirt and pajama bottoms instead. He tossed a large jumper at you.

"Would you like to stay tonight?" he asked, making his way to sit on his bed.

You held the jumper in your hands, weighing your options. You could either stay the night with Fred and risk being tired tomorrow, or sleep in your own room and miss out on this precious time with Fred. Your busy schedule meant that you didn't have much time alone together.

"I'm not sure yet," you replied honestly, beginning to take off your own uniform to put on the jumper. "You'll have me all weekend, so I should probably focus on studying and finishing assignments before the craziness of the ball."

Fred watched you, passively admiring your curves as you changed in the dim light of his dorm. He had seen you naked quite a few times by this point, but he still found himself star struck whenever you so much as showed an extra inch of skin.

You finished changing, pulling the jumper on over just your knickers. It was long enough that it landed at your mid thigh, and Fred loved how you looked in his clothes. You knew that he was itching to get his hands on you.

"You could take a break from studying for a week," Fred said, settling onto his bed as he watched you. "New potions aren't going to invent themselves overnight. You can pick it up again next week."

You crossed the room to join Fred in his bed. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest as you cuddled up to him. He held you, stroking your back as you took a deep breath.

"I know, I just really want to get into an Upper School. My exams for the Potions programs are in January, there isn't much time left," you said, still squeezing him tight. You had really been feeling the pressure of your upcoming exams, and Fred knew it.

He tangled his fingers through your hair, kissing you on the head as he played with the long strands. Fred always knew how to put you at ease.

"You never talk about your plans after Hogwarts," you stated, moving to prop your chin on his chest so you could look at him.

"That's because I'm not sure that I have any yet," he said, shrugging. His parents had been breathing down his neck about this, so the topic of future plans felt pretty sore.

"They don't have to be perfect plans," you replied, reaching up to run your thumb along his jaw. "If you could do anything in the world, what would it be? No matter how outlandish. I'll tell you my fantasy future."

"You go first," he said, leaning into your touch.

"If I could do anything, I would start a new wizarding school. It would have houses, but it would be nothing like Hogwarts. We would study Potions and Herbology, and instead of playing Quidditch students would compete in Wizard's Chess tournaments. It sounds dorky and there's really no need for another school, but I think it would be fun to create something like that," you said, rambling on. "What about you?"

Fred let out a breath. "George and I want to run our own joke shop. We could sell our creations and show other people how to pull pranks. It would never be successful, but George and I would love doing it."

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking into his eyes. "Freddie, that sounds amazing! You and George would be cracking at that, all of the students here would love to buy your joke items," you said excitedly, a smile on your face.

"Really?" Fred asked, his own smile starting to form.

"Really," you replied. "There's no one better than you two to open a shop like that. And you're both great at convincing people to do things, I'm sure those skills would translate well into sales."

"George and I have been dreaming about it for years. It's something that we would never get bored of," Fred said. "I've never told anyone about it before. Except for George, of course."

"I'm happy that you told me," you said, giving him a kiss on the lips. "You know that I believe in you. I would happily be your first customer."

"Just because you're pretty doesn't mean that you'd get a discount," Fred teased, tickling your side.

You grabbed at his hand to stop the tickling, laughing at him. "Oh yeah? I'm sure I could find other ways to get a discount," you teased back, running your other hand up his chest.

"Maybe you should give a demonstration," Fred replied, smirking at you as he grabbed your hips and placed you on top of him.

——

It was finally Friday, and everyone was buzzing about the ball tomorrow night. You had managed to make it through the rest of the week without too many distractions, and you were caught up enough on homework that you could give Fred your undivided attention this weekend.

You were eating dinner with your friends, tucking into your dessert chatting about the ball. Beatrice had been rambling on about her dress even though she had already showed it to you several times.

"It's the perfect shade for my skin tone," Beatrice said. "Oliver won't be able to keep his hands off of me."

"We get it, Bea, we've seen your dress about 100 times," Cho said, taking another bite of her pudding.

"But with my makeup and hair done, it'll look completely different," Bea said, looking for a reason to continue talking about her dress.

You were excited about your own dress. It was a maroon color with a frilly skirt. It was relatively simple, but it still made you feel beautiful. You couldn't wait for Fred to see it.

A paper butterfly floated its way over to your table, landing neatly next to your plate. You and your friends looked at each other in confusion for a moment until you picked it up and unfolded it.

Meet me in my dorm after dinner.

You knew it was from Fred. You looked up, scanning the faces of the other students in the hopes of finding Fred. You were unsuccessful, and instead folded up the note and put it into the pocket of your robes.

"What's that about?" Bea asked, propping her elbows on the table as she looked at you.

"Fred wants me to meet him after dinner," you answered, playing with the crust of the pie that was on your plate.

"He always has to be dramatic about it, doesn't he?" Cho pointed out. "Cedric should take notes, he could learn a thing or two from Fred."

The three of you giggled. Cho rarely said a kind word about Fred, but he was growing on her. He had that effect on people.

——

You made your way up the stairs towards Fred's dormitory. You were nervous for some reason, but you couldn't really understand why. You had been to his room countless times, but he didn't usually invite you over by sending a paper butterfly at dinner. It seemed like he was up to something.

You knocked on the door, fiddling with your fingers that you had clasped in front of you. A few seconds passed until Fred opened the door, a wide grin on his face.

"Close your eyes," he said, putting his hands over your eyes as he pulled you into the room.

"What in Godric's name are you up to now, Freddie?" you asked as he led you through the room.

"You'll find out in a second," he replied, bringing you to the bed. "Sit down."

You obliged, sitting down onto his bed. You heard papers rustling, and you were tempted to open your eyes. But you knew that Fred wanted whatever this was to be a surprise, so you obediently kept them closed.

"You can open them now," Fred said, sitting on the bed next to you.

You opened your eyes, taking in the room before you. Fred had lit numerous candles and spread rose pedals around the room. It was like a scene from a romantic novel. It was cheesy, but you loved it.

You looked around, noticing that Fred had strung something up on the walls. "You should start from this end and work to the right," Fred said, directing you toward the door.

All around the room were sketches of you. The first was a sketch of your frustrated face. Your hair was braided, and you assumed that the sketch was of your confrontation in the courtyard.

The next was you in the Quidditch stands. Then you on your back on Fred's bed, his head between your legs. Your side profile as you looked out from the astronomy tower. Slow dancing to the record player. The first time you had butter beers with him and his friends at the Three Broomsticks.

You couldn't stop the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. Your hand was covering your mouth that was agape in absolute disbelief. Fred had chronicled your relationship in sketches. You had no idea that he was this talented.

The sketches continued in order along the walls of his room, and you didn't turn to him until you had looked at every last one. You finally looked at Fred. A soft smile was on his lips, and his eyes looked like they were shining. He had that look that he gave you once in a while that you were never quite able to place.

Fred closed the space between you, wiping the tears from your cheeks. He took your hands into his.

"Birdie....I don't even know where to start," he let out a chuckle, obviously a bit nervous. "I realized that I never asked you to be my girlfriend. We both kind of just assumed that we were together, but I wanted to be sure."

You giggled at him. He was right. You had never explicitly spoken about being together, it was something that fell into place naturally.

"So I'm finally going to ask. Will you be my girlfriend?" Fred asked.

"Of course I will, Freddie," you said, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. You kissed him on the lips, your cheeks still wet with tears.

"I'm not done yet," Fred said, pulling out of the kiss. He took your hand, walking you back to the bed. He sat down, motioning for you to join him.

"You and I have known each other ever since we got to Hogwarts. I always thought that you were cute, but your nose was so far into your books that I never tried to get to know you," Fred said, still holding your hand. "I have learned so much about you in these past few months. It has made me wonder how I ever was able to live without you before, how I could walk past you in the halls every day and not kiss you. I was missing out on so much, and I had no idea. But now I know you, and I also know that I'm in love with you."

Fred paused to take a breath. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you watched him in silence.

"I know that your last experience with love might not have been what you wanted it to be, but this is going to be different. Because I will spend every day making sure that you know that I love you. I will support you and your dreams. If that means you have to spend hours in the library and don't have as much time for me, I still support you. There is no one in the world who is as smart as you, as ambitious as you, as kind-hearted, patient, caring...I could go on for ages," Fred squeezed your hand, looking into your eyes. "I don't know a lot of things, but I do know for sure that I am in love with you. And I need you to know that. You are my weakness, and I think you have learned how to exploit that."

Fred gently poked at your side, trying to get you to laugh. A choked giggle came out of your mouth as you tried to wipe your tears.

"Darling, why are you crying?" Fred asked, his voice gentle. It was like he was afraid you were going to break like a piece of glass.

"This is just....I never expected this," you replied, taking breaths to try to gather yourself. "I don't know how else to respond to a gesture like this."

Fred squeezed your hand again, using his other hand to wipe a tear from your cheek. "Birdie, this is what you deserve."

You breathed out. You had been trying to remind yourself that you deserve good things. That you work hard and deserve success. That you are a good friend and deserve for that to be reciprocated. Fred somehow knew all of your insecurities and exactly how to make them vanish.

"Fred, this is....." you started, left speechless for a moment. "I love you too."

Your hands found his cheeks, taking his face into your hands. You kissed him, a sweet kiss that you hoped conveyed how much you loved him.

"How long have you known?" you asked, pulling back so you could look him in the eye.

"Known what?" he replied, finding your hand again and taking it into his.

"How long have you known that you loved me?" you said, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

Fred looked down for a moment as he considered your question. "The astronomy tower. I think that's when I knew, I just didn't want to admit it yet," he answered.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow...that was a long time ago," you said.

"Birdie, you are the only person who challenges me. Who always sees the best in me. You believe in me without a question. And you have been that way since the beginning. How could I not fall in love with you?"

You leaned in to kiss him again, this time biting at his bottom lip. Your hands found his hair, and he pulled you onto his lap.

"You are so sentimental and I love you for it," you said, stroking his cheek. He smiled at you, kissing you once more.

His kisses wandered from your mouth to your jaw down to your neck. Your hands were busy in his hair, pulling at it as he nipped at your sensitive skin. You leaned your head back, giving him full access to your neck.

He undid your tie, tossing it to the side before working on the buttons of your shirt.

"Someone seems impatient," you teased, scratching at his scalp with your nails. You were usually the one who pushed things along. Fred was willing to be patient for the sake of your comfort.

"I've been dying to make love to you," he replied between kisses, now biting along your collar bone. He had already finished with the buttons of your shirt, and he waited for you to pull it off your shoulders.

You obliged, discarding your shirt so Fred could continue his trail of kisses. He stood up from the bed, picking you up for a moment before placing you on your back in the center of the bed. You opened your legs, and he slid between them so he could plant another kiss on your mouth.

He made quick work of your skirt, and soon you were left in only your undergarments on his bed.

"What a view," he said, grinning at you as he moved to take off his own shirt and tie.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you teased at him.

"That's what the sketches are for," he said, already taking off his pants.

Fred came forward to kiss your lips again, your legs wrapping around his middle. His hands ghosted along your ribcage, wandering around to your back so he could unclasp your bra.

You slid your bra straps down your arms, dropping it onto the floor next to the bed. Fred left hot kisses from your lips all the way down between your boobs. Your back was already arching off of the mattress, begging for more.

"I want to take my time with you tonight," he said between kisses, sucking a nipple into his mouth. You moaned in reply, hands flying to his hair.

He worked your other nipple with his fingers, eventually moving his mouth to give the other a turn. His searing kisses trailed down your stomach, stopping just above your navel.

Fred's fingers played with the edge of your knickers, tickling along your hip bone. "May I?" he asked, looking up at you from his position between your legs.

"Yes. Please," you answered, your nails scratching along his muscular shoulders.

Fred pulled down your knickers, dropping them onto the floor. He kissed the side of your knee, working his way down your thighs toward your center.

"So gorgeous. Such a perfect girl," he mumbled, leaving love bites on your inner thighs.

His hand hooked behind your knee, pushing it closer to your chest. His mouth migrated from your thighs to your hip bone, leaving kisses along your lower belly.

One hand came down to your center while his other propped him up on the bed. His thumb found your clit, slowly working a circular pattern onto it. He still kissed along your belly, making you writhe with anticipation.

Fred dove one long finger into your opening, making you whimper. He was taking his time just like he said he would, but it was driving you insane.

He was finally gracious enough to move his mouth down to your core, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. His finger still worked in and out of your opening, causing you to grip at Fred's hair.

He picked up his pace, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger into you. You were moaning his name, pulling at his hair as he pleasured you.

You were so close to your release. Fred knew your body well enough that he could tell that you were close, so he continued exactly as he was. In his mind, you two were just getting started.

You finally reached your high, arching off of the bed as you pulled on a fistful of fiery hair. Fred eased you down, leaving gentle kisses on your thighs before moving to kiss you on the lips.

"I love you," he said, brushing your nose with his as he looked into your eyes.

"I love you too," you replied, still catching your breath after your orgasm. The moment was sweet and endearing, but you wanted more.

You reached for Fred's waistband, raising your eyebrows at him suggestively. "I'm going to be on top this time, pretty boy," you said, a smirk creeping across your mouth.

Fred's face lit up. He had always taken control during sex, but he wasn't upset about this change. You were nervous about being on top; you had never tried it before. But tonight felt like the right time.

You switched positions on the bed, with Fred laying on his back. You straddled him, and Fred sat up and kissed along your collarbone and shoulders.

"I think you were made for me," he said between kisses. His words made a shiver run down your spine.

He was straining against the fabric of his underwear, and you knew exactly how to help him. You pushed his shoulders back, forcing him to lay down onto the bed.

"What do you want, Freddie?" you asked, trying to make your voice sound sweet and innocent.

"Anything," he answered, running his hands along your hips. He wanted to take his time, but he was starting to get desperate.

"Hmmmm...I'll have to decide for you then," you said, tracing your nails down his chest. Your fingers landed at the edge of his boxers, toying with it.

You could feel Fred shiver beneath your touch. A smirk spread across your lips. Having this power over him felt addictive.

You pulled at his boxers, taking them all the way down his legs and tossing them onto the floor. You kissed along his abs while one hand reached down to grip him.

Fred sucked in a breath. He had been anticipating your touch. You continued your kisses down to his hip bones, working him with your hand.

You peered up at him. His mouth was open slightly, and his pupils were dark. You had him right where you wanted him.

"Do you want something?" you asked, blinking at him through your eyelashes.

"I...your mouth," he said, stuttering a bit. He was flustered.

You brought your trail of kisses down further, and you dared to dart out your tongue to tease his tip. He shuddered in response.

You had enough of teasing him. At least for now. You took him into your mouth, still using your hand to work the rest of him that didn't fit. Fred groaned, his hands finding your hair.

"Fuck, birdie. Feels so good," he said, watching you as you worked him deeper into your throat.

You could feel his muscles tensing, but you didn't want him to finish like this. You pulled your mouth off of him, propping yourself up with your hands on his thighs.

"I couldn't let you finish like that, Freddie," you said, your voice soft. "I know what you want. You just need to beg for it."

Fred huffed. "Beg?" he asked in disbelief. This sounded like the kind of thing that he usually did to you.

"It's your turn to be desperate. Or we could stop, that's alright too," you replied, taking your hands off of his thighs. You started as if you were going to get off the bed, but he grabbed your wrist.

"Please," he said, his eyes boring into yours.

"Oh Freddie, you know you can do better than that. So insincere," you teased, running your nails up his thighs.

You moved so you were straddling his middle. You played with his hair, looking down at him. He was stubborn, not wanting to give in to you. But he also wanted you, and that meant that he would have to play along.

"Birdie, please. I need you," he whined, bringing his hands to your hips.

"I know," you replied, grinning at him. His eyes were pleading with you. You had to give in to him.

You pushed your hips back, using your hand to find him. He still held on to your hips as you aligned him with your entrance, slowly working yourself down onto him.

Fred breathed out, gripping onto your hips harder. You supported yourself with your hands on his chest, trying to find a comfortable pace. You had never been on top before, so this was unfamiliar territory.

Fred's hands slid up to your sides. He pulled you forward, kissing your lips. You kissed him back, your hands now propped on either side of his head. You moved your hips up and down, still feeling a bit unsure of what to do.

Fred's lips moved to your ear. "Would you like some help, darling?" he whispered.

"Please," you replied, letting out an embarrassed chuckle.

Fred took back some control, using his own hips to meet yours. You increased your pace, meaning that Fred also increased his.

You pulled yourself back up, putting your hands on his chest once again. He grabbed your hips, moving you up and down to match his rhythm.

"Fuck, Freddie. Just like that," you cried, digging your nails into his chest.

He continued like this, bringing a hand down to your center. His thumb found your clit, working it as you rode him. You let out a whine, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"So good for me, birdie. Such a good girl," he praised. "Are you going to finish for me?"

You moaned as he increased the pace once more. You were close to your finish, but you wanted him to finish too.

"Not until you finish for me," you managed to say between moans. He had you on the brink.

"I'm close, darling. So close," he replied, digging his hand into your hip.

Fred continued, and soon enough you were crying out. "Freddie, so good. Don't stop."

You reached your orgasm, maintaining Fred's brutal pace so he could reach his own. It only took a few more moments.

"Fuck, that's it, birdie," he said as he finished, his hips stuttering into you. You both slowed your hips, and you collapsed onto his chest.

You were both breathing hard and sweaty. You stayed on top of him, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck.

"That was...." Fred started, chuckling. "You never cease to amaze me."

You picked up your head, exhausted from your effort. "I aim to please," you replied, shooting a wink at him.

Fred chuckled again. "You sure do," he said.

#smut #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley smut #fredweasley #harry potter #the weasleys #weasley twins #wizarding world #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #fred and george #weasley twins fanfiction #weasley twins smut

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pillow-coded · 2 months ago

Text

To Have and to Hold — Chapter 1

Summary: finding a lost toddler's mother in the library wasn’t how Spencer expected to spend his afternoon. Later, when her mother arrives—panicked, breathless, and beautiful—Spencer starts to forget how to breathe. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Brief depiction of a lost child, mild panic from a parent, emotional vulnerability word count: 5.3k

A/N: This is the first work I had the guts to post (genuinely scared lol), slow updates! (so sorry, but uni is killing me), and lastly, English isn't my native language, so please do let me know if i got any grammar mistakes! (also not proofread cause i'm too embarrassed to show any of my friends)

Series Masterlist

Libraries have always been a great comfort for me. It’s a place full of knowledge, warmth, peace. Maybe it’s the smell of old books and how I can easily link that smell to the amiable parts of my childhood.

Those Autumn nights when everything was fine, where my wires were still intact. Mom was doing well back then. She’d read to me those old books she collected from all her years of teaching. That’s how I saw them back then... Old, decrepit books that contained the most fun stories... At least, I found them fun. Like Shakespeare’s Tales Retold – child-friendly versions of Shakespeare’s works.

Nowadays, they’re more than just fond stories or old books. Those books are relics and a memory of when my mother was... well, more lucid.

What I loved most about libraries was the quietness of it all. I spent a couple of hours of my day when I could, basking in the quiet. It was nice not to have to hear the gruesome details of some innocent woman murdered in cold blood.

Days like these only made the quietness feel even better. Soft Autumn day, nearing Winter already. We had just come back from a tough case, children were involved. Thankfully, we managed to get on time.

I had watched that boy while JJ tried to talk to him, trying to understand what had happened to him. He was barefoot, his hair disheveled, and he looked achingly thin. We later found that the boy’s parents held a “discipline ring.” According to his parents, it was a “behavior modification” experiment—one they claimed was “research-backed,” designed to “train” their child into being the perfect prodigy. The boy was denied food, affection, and even basic care when he disobeyed. But worse? The parents live-streamed it all on private forums for a group of like-minded “disciplinarians.”

It didn’t matter that we caught his parents. That the live-stream was shut down. That the others in that so-called “discipline ring” were going to prison. None of it mattered when he looked up at me with those eyes—hollow but obedient. Like love was something he still thought he had to earn.

I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more than I hated those people.

I’ve done a lot of pretending in my life. Pretended I wasn’t scared. Pretended I wasn’t lonely. Pretended I didn’t want a family of my own. But that boy—he didn’t know how to pretend. He didn’t know how to fake normal. He just waited patiently in that hospital bed for someone to love him back.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, which is why I had decided to come to the library instead of resting after the case like a normal person. I needed a moment of peace, a moment of quiet.

That moment of quietness was rudely interrupted—torn apart by high-pitched, desperate sobbing. I turn to my left, and there's a girl at the end of the long corridor full of bookcases. A tiny one at that, since the whole corridor looked gigantic compared to her.

She couldn’t have been more than five, barely tall enough to brush the second shelf. A statistical outlier in this ocean of silence, suddenly very, very loud. There was something unsettling about how her tiny fists rubbed at her eyes. Children cried in a language everyone understood.

“Are you lost?” I ask hesitantly, not moving from my spot in the corridor. The little girl stops crying for a brief moment. Well, not stop, but slowed down. Her big eyes are still so full of fear and tears, but they open wide to look at me as if she hadn’t been expecting someone to help.

She doesn’t say anything.

Just looks at me—eyes still shimmering, lips trembling, chest stuttering around hiccuped sobs. She’s scared. That much is obvious. But it’s the way she clutches the fabric of her little coat that really gets me. Like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth right now.

I walk towards her. I'm not close—just close enough to show I’m not a threat. A non-threatening stranger in a cardigan and tie, kneeling among the books like I’m part of the furniture.

She stares, still trembling, still silent.

“It’s okay,” I murmur gently. “I’m not going to come closer unless you want me to. I just want to help.”

Her little hand scrubs clumsily at her cheek. She sniffles, her shoulders curling inward. Still holding it in. Still trying to be brave.

Then, finally—after a moment that feels like something unspooling—she shakes her head. And her voice, when it comes, is a soft, crumpled thing:

“I can’t find my mommy.”

I nod, matching her quietness. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

A pause.

“I’ll help you find her, alright? No rush. We can check the kiddie section together. That’s probably where she’ll look first.”

I didn’t offer my hand. It felt like too much for both of us. Instead, I walked beside her, slow and steady, letting the silence settle between us like soft dust. She kept sniffling quietly the whole walk down.

I desperately needed a way to make the little cries stop.

“What's your name, sweetheart?” I asked softly.

She tilted her head back to look up at me—really look this time. She was so small she had to crane her neck to find my eyes. Her expression still carried that flicker of uncertainty, her trust not quite earned yet.

“I’m Spencer.”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Just stares for a second, like she’s still deciding whether I’m safe. Then, in the tiniest voice—barely above a whisper—she says:

“...Maddie.”

Maddie.

I nod, repeating it once under my breath to make it real.

“That’s a beautiful name, Maddie.”

She says nothing, but her fingers curl tighter around the hem of her coat. She’s still scared, but she’s not looking away anymore.

Progress.

I scan the rows of shelves ahead. The kiddie section’s not far now—colorful bean bags, tiny chairs, picture books splayed on wide tables.

“Do you like magic tricks, Maddie?”

She nods her tiny head, her eyes warming up to me at the thought.

I felt something in my stomach… I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe yearning?

She nods—just once—and I see it. That flicker of trust, like a light turning on behind her eyes. Not quite safety, but something near it.

And something stirs in my stomach.

I don’t know what to call it. It’s not adrenaline, and it’s not fear. Maybe it’s yearning. Not for her, necessarily—but for what she has. What she’s lost. What she’s looking for.

For someone to come back for her.

For someone to call her name.

“Okay… how about I show you some magic tricks while we wait for your mommy to get here? that sound fun, Maddie?”

This time she nods enthusiastically. Her big eyes excited to see what sorcery I had planned to show her.

I dig the pocket of my pants, my movements slow and deliberate. I pull out a simple quarter. It’s nothing special. Just a plain, shiny quarter that for some reason, I’ve held on to for way longer than I should’ve.

“Behold,” I announce, holding it up between two fingers like it’s enchanted. “A perfectly ordinary quarter.”

She leans in, captivated—eyes locked on the coin like it’s something rare. A small smile starts to tug at her cheeks.

“It’s your everyday quarter,” I say, twirling the tiny thing between my fingers, doing my best to keep this unfamiliar girl comforted—as if her calm is the only thing keeping me steady.

“Watch closely.”

I place the coin on my open palm and slowly close my fingers around it. Then, with my free hand, I give the air above my fist a little wave—like I’m stirring something invisible.

“And now… it’s gone.”

I open my hand. Empty.

She gasps.

I see it—the way her mouth falls open, the way her eyes light up like I’ve just rewritten the rules of the universe.

I lean in, just a little. Not too close.

“Huh. That’s strange…” I murmur, pretending to look around her, behind her, above her. “Where could it have gone…?”

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I reach behind her ear, and pull the coin free like I just plucked a star from the sky.

Her breath catches. She stares at the quarter in my fingers like it’s a miracle.

“It was behind your ear this whole time,” I whisper, grinning.

She beams at me, her fear momentarily forgotten. Her laughter is soft but real, bright and bubbly and innocent in a way that makes something sharp tug behind my ribs.

“Are you a sorcerer?” She asks, her big, curious eyes staring into my soul, trying to get answers out of me.

I blink, “A sorcerer?”

She nods, completely serious, “like the ones in Harry Potter.”

I chuckle fondly at her question, “Well… I don’t have a broom. Or a wand. Or an Owl.”

“But you made the coin vanish…” She pouts slightly, and although the sight of her minor pout was adorable, I would’ve given anything to see her smile again.

I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the case that had me feeling so fond of a child I just met. Maybe it got all the loose wires within me, all frayed and sparking from things I still hadn’t worked through. But there was something about this moment—this tiny human with tear-streaked cheeks and a Harry Potter reference—that made something ache deep in my chest.

I felt it so sharply it almost hurt.

This... this mattered.

And I hated how much I wanted it—interactions like this. Not just the comfort or the connection but the permanence. The possibility of something that was mine.

Kids of my own.

I glance down at her, still wide-eyed, still waiting for more magic. Her little hands twitch with excitement like she’s ready to believe anything I say.

“Yeah, but it’s only a magic trick, sweetheart,” I murmur, trying to offer the truth gently, without breaking the illusion. Without hurting her feelings.

But maybe I shouldn’t.

Maybe I should let her believe in it a little longer. Let her live in the dream. Give her what I wish someone had given me at that age—a reason to believe in wonder.

So I sigh, dramatically, like I’m about to confess something world-altering.

“Okay… you got me. But you can’t tell anyone, alright?”

She leans in, eyes shining.

“I’m actually a wizard.”

She gasps, delighted. A smile blooms across her face so fast it nearly knocks the air out of me.

“I knew it!” she squeals.

“Yeah, you did,” I grin back. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

She looks like she’s about to burst with thousands of questions. Eyes wide and shining with a special curiosity. I just hope her parent doesn’t murder me for fueling these wizard dreams that she has.

“Are you friends with Harry?”

I try my best to suppress a warm chuckle, but I can’t help the smile that shines through.

“Harry Potter?” She nodded so hard at my response that I worried her head might pop off. “Well… I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s mostly busy these days. But yes, we’ve met.”

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, and this time, I couldn’t subdue the fond chuckles that her reactions got out of me.

“Can you show me more magic?”

I smile, helpless to deny her. “Alright. One more, but you gotta sit down for this one.” I say, holding up a finger like I’m laying down a rule neither of us will actually follow.

She hurries to a small chair in the kid tables. Wiggles in place, hands clasped in front of her like she’s bracing for something incredible.

I reach into my pocket again, fingers brushing against the familiar coolness of the coin.

“But you have to pay very close attention, okay? This one’s advanced wizardry.”

She nods like she’s preparing for a test at Hogwarts.

“We have, the very same coin from earlier,” I move the coin to the center of my palm, “But if I place it right here… and you keep your eyes on it…”

I curl my fingers over it, give them a little dramatic wiggle.

“This simple quarter will just…”

Disappear. Or—it’s supposed to.

Everything was going fine. The coin’s in my palm. My fingers close around it. I make the usual gesture—slight misdirection, a practiced flick of the wrist, the classic illusion.

Except this time… something goes wrong. There’s a soft metallic clink followed by—

“Ow!”

Not me. Behind me.

The little girl’s eyes go wide, delighted at first by the trick. But then her head snaps toward the voice—the one behind me, the one that just yelped in surprise.

And just like that… the magic disappears.

“Mommy!” She takes off running.

I stand and turn instinctively, ready to reassure the parent—let her know her daughter’s safe, that I was only trying to help. Maybe even apologize for the quarter that, somehow, made impact.

But then I see her.

And for a moment… I forget what I was about to say.

She’s standing there, breathless, eyes wide with relief, and the softest kind of panic still clinging to her expression. The kind that says she’s been searching—not just through the aisles, but through every possible worst-case scenario in her head.

And yet, despite the tension in her posture, despite the flurry of emotion on her face...

She’s—God, she’s beautiful.

Like something from another lifetime. Light catching in her hair. Autumn caught in her breath.

An angel.

I’ve always thrived on routine. Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, go fulfill today’s duties… It wasn’t anything exciting, but it was dependable. Familiar.

That all changed when I had her.

My Madelyn.

Now, my mornings depend on a dozen unpredictable factors. Maybe Maddie wakes up before I do and cuts my desperately needed seven hours of sleep short. Maybe she had a nightmare. Maybe she wet the bed. Or—more often than not—she’s just too excited for the day and bursts out of sleep like it’s a celebration.

It’s exhausting.

But she’s my entire world. My sun. My moon. And I’d sacrifice every ounce of sleep or peace of mind a thousand times over if it meant making her life feel safe and full of joy.

Still, we do have one day of the week that rarely breaks pattern.

Saturdays.

Every Saturday, for as long as I can remember, I wake up early, make pancakes, get dressed, and head to the library—the one place where time slows down, where stories open like doorways and the world feels just a little quieter.

Bringing Maddie into that routine was surprisingly easy. I started taking her when she was just a month old. I would’ve done it sooner, but I was still figuring things out—how to be a single mother to a newborn. Just surviving those first few days was its own kind of story.

She loves our Saturdays.

Every Saturday morning, once the pancakes are ready, I head to her room—and without fail, she wakes up with the biggest smile.

She always knows it’s Saturday because of the smell. Like clockwork, the scent of warm batter reaches her tiny nose, and her whole body just springs to life. She throws off her covers, races into the kitchen barefoot and beaming, already asking for her syrup before I can even plate the first stack.

This Saturday morning was different.

I should’ve known things would go wrong the moment I decided to step even slightly out of routine.

“Good morning, princess,” I sing, beaming as I step into her bedroom—blueberry pancakes in hand. “Brought you breakfast in bed. Aren’t you a spoiled little princess today?”

Her face lights up like it always does. “Good morning, Mommy!”

She spots the pancakes, and her eyes sparkle. She bounces a little beneath her blankets, already reaching for the plate. “Blueberry?”

I nod, smiling. “Well, I know how much you like them, so I decided to change things up,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “Alright, eat up. The library’s waiting for us.”

She hummed as she ate, little legs swinging off the edge of the bed, syrup smeared near the corner of her mouth. It was such a small thing, but I remember thinking—this is what happiness feels like. A plate of blueberry pancakes and a five-year-old who thinks I hung the stars.

We left a little later than usual.

Just ten minutes. That’s all.

She insisted on picking out her own outfit—a striped shirt and a pink coat—and I let her. Another tiny detour from routine. Nothing dramatic. Nothing dangerous.

The nearest library, which we were used to visiting, was a three-story building. It was old, but they kept it clean. The library had a huge variety of books, from Children’s books to cookbooks.

It was just as it always was. Quiet. Warm. A kind of sacred.

We walked in together. I remember holding the door open while she skipped inside.

I remember telling her—“Stay close, baby.”

she nodding.

And then…Then I blinked. I looked up from the shelves. And she was gone.

I’ve never lost my Maddie before. She’s a curious child, and she loves to wander off on adventures. She probably inherited that from me. This need to find whatever’s glowing. I understand it. We’re moths, both of us. Fragile, flitting things, always blinded by the glow, unaware that it might hurt us.

But I’ve gotten better at spotting the danger.

At least… when it comes to her.

I watch everything. Every step she takes. Every handrail she climbs. Every crack in the sidewalk I gently guide her around. Not even the tiniest fruit fly gets near her without me noticing. I make sure of it. I always make sure.

So how did I miss this?

how did I lose her?

“Maddie?” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maddie, where are you, sweetheart?”

No reply.

Just silence. Just shelves. Just the sound of someone flipping a page somewhere far away.

I couldn’t see her.

I couldn’t hear her.

Panic bloomed in my chest, sharp and fast. I started moving—too quickly to think, too slowly to matter. I scanned every row, every corner of the first floor, spinning in half-circles, eyes darting, throat dry.

Think. You have to think. Breathe.

I forced myself to stop. Just for a second. Inhaled. Shaky. Exhaled. Useless.

That’s when I saw it.

A sign hanging above the staircase in soft, colorful letters:

Children’s Section – Second Floor.

I don’t think I’ve ever taken stairs that fast in my life.

I practically leapt two steps at a time, nearly tripping—twice—but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My heart was pounding too hard, my breath caught somewhere between a prayer and a scream.

As soon as I reached the top, I heard it. Laughter. Soft, bubbling giggles echoing from the back corner of the floor.

Maddie. My sun.

I followed the sound like it was oxygen, rounding the shelves toward the children’s section—and there she was. She was fine. Smiling. Whole. Lit up with joy I hadn’t seen since breakfast.

I was so blinded by the sight of her—so completely caught in the gravity of that relief—that I didn’t see the small, shiny object flying straight at my face.

Thunk.

“Ow!” I yelped, instinctively pressing a hand to my forehead where the coin made impact.

“Mommy!” I blinked, still holding my forehead, and finally looked up to see my daughter running full speed to me.

I dropped my hand and opened my arms just in time, catching her as she flung herself into me.

The force of her little body nearly knocked the breath out of my lungs—and I didn’t care. I clutched her to my chest, my hands smoothing over her hair, her back, her arms—like I needed to physically confirm every part of her was still here.

Still mine.

“I was looking for you,” she mumbled into my shoulder.

“I know, baby,” I whispered. “I know. I’m here.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and only then—only then—did I let myself breathe. Let myself relax and look around with a clear mind.

And that’s when I saw him.

A man—tall, gangly, cardigan-ed, and completely mortified. His wide brown eyes darted from the coin in the floor, to my face and back again like he wasn’t sure which deserved more immediate attention.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t—I mean, the coin wasn’t… is your forehead okay?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence. He reached down and took the quarter in his hands.

He was nervous. The poor thing couldn’t even get a full thought out without stuttering or switching pitch. He looked like a deer caught in headlights—in the most endearing way possible.

I adjusted Maddie in my arms and slowly rose to my feet, brushing a hand over the spot where the coin had hit.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m okay.”

“Mommy, that’s Spencer. He’s a wizard, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.” Maddie’s little voice cut in, muffled by my shoulder. Her tiny hands clung to my shirt like this secret was sacred. Like this moment mattered.

“Is he now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

The poor man looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. His cheeks were flushed a deep pink, and he kept shifting like he wanted to disappear behind the nearest bookshelf. He was clearly mortified for making my daughter believe he was an actual wizard.

Meanwhile, Maddie looked like she might explode from sheer joy.

“He did magic, Mommy!” she beamed. “He made the coin disappear! And he’s friends with Harry Potter!”

I looked at him again—this tall, blushing stranger in a cardigan, holding a rogue quarter like it was evidence from a crime scene—and for the first time since the panic hit…

I smiled. No, not just that. I giggled.

“He’s friends with Harry Potter, sweetheart?”

“Yeah!” Maddie chirped, her little head nodding furiously against my shoulder. “He told me so!”

I glanced down at Maddie, still glowing with excitement in my arms, then back at him—this stranger with a guilty expression and a coin pinched nervously between his fingers.

“So you’ve met the famous Harry Potter?” I asked softly, more amused than anything else.

His mouth opened… then closed again. He looked completely out of his depth, like he wasn’t sure whether to defend himself or disappear behind the nearest bookcase.

“I… may have implied we’d met,” he said, almost apologetically. “In a—fictional sense.”

“Fictional,” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, eyes flicking anywhere but at me. “She asked if I knew him, and I just couldn’t say no. Plus, it calmed her down.”

My heart twisted, gently. Of course it did.

I crouched to set Maddie down, brushing a hand over her curls. “Don’t wander off, sweetheart.”

She nodded seriously—too seriously for someone who just believed she’d befriended a wizard—but she stayed put, her wide eyes still bouncing between me and the man standing awkwardly by the bookshelves.

When I stood, he was watching me. Not in a weird way. Just… watching. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say something, or leave before he embarrassed himself further.

I finally broke the silence.

“Thank you,” I said. “For keeping her calm. And for the magic tricks. Even if one of them involved hitting a complete stranger in the face.”

His eyes widened. “Oh my god—yes. I’m really sorry about that. That was not part of the trick. I swear it usually disappears. Like, away from people.”

I smiled again, gentler this time. “I believe you.”

A beat passed.

“You’ve got a very brave little girl.”

My chest squeezed.

“Yeah,” I whispered, looking over at Maddie, who was now spinning slowly in place, humming to herself like nothing had happened.

“She really is.”

I looked back again, and of course—despite being told not to wander—she had already drifted toward the toy shelf, her tiny fingers trailing along the edge of a plastic castle.

Moth. Always drawn to whatever glows.

He hadn’t stopped staring.

He kept looking at me like he wanted to tear me open—not in a violent way, but in that quiet, curious way. Like he needed to understand what made me me. Like he was trying to read my soul the way other people read books.

I hadn’t even noticed—Not until I turned my gaze back to him, and when I did, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

There was something behind his eyes—something searching. Gentle, but sharp. Not the kind of stare meant to intimidate. No, it was worse. It was the kind that saw. Saw too much.

The kind of look that made you feel like maybe you weren’t a collection of masks and moments. Like maybe you were a story he’d just opened to the first page.

It made my skin warm.

I looked away first. Not because it was uncomfortable—But because it wasn’t.

Because I didn’t know what to do with the way he looked at me like that. Like I was worth reading.

“So… she read the Harry Potter series?” he asked, breaking the silence.

His voice jolted me back to reality. I blinked a couple times, trying to shake myself free from whatever trance those hazel eyes had pulled me into.

“Has she read—? No, no. She still struggles a bit with reading. The only books she’s managed on her own so far are Frog and Toad Are Friends and The Tales of Oliver Pig.”

His lips twitched at that, like he was trying not to smile too hard.

“Do you mind me asking… how old is she?”

“She’s turning five in a couple weeks.”

He blinked. “And she’s reading at a first-grade level? That’s impressive.”

I smiled, soft and proud. “She’s always been a quick learner. Loves stories. I think it’s how she makes sense of the world.”

He nodded, like he understood that. Like maybe he did the same.

“So I take it she’s only seen the Harry Potter movies then?” he asked, circling back to his original question.

“Oh—no. I read to her a lot. We actually went through the entire Harry Potter series last summer.”

His eyebrows lifted, impressed. “All seven?”

“All seven,” I nodded. “It took us a few months, but she was completely obsessed. She didn’t want me to put the books down, not even to sleep. Had a million questions. Wanted to know why Harry had to live in the cupboard, how the time-turner worked, what butterbeer tastes like.”

He chuckled softly. “She sounds like someone I would’ve been friends with at her age.”

“You read a lot as a kid?”

He hesitated—not because he didn’t want to answer, but because he seemed to be sorting through too many memories at once.

“Pretty much all I did,” he said eventually. “Books were easier. Made more sense than people did.”

There was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t just a fun fact, but a truth he’d learned the hard way.

I didn’t push. I just nodded, quietly understanding.

“Maddie’s the same,” I offered. “She talks to books like they talk back.”

He smiled at that. “That’s the best kind of kid.”

I was about to reply—to agree with the praise of my daughter, to maybe say something more—but then she came barreling back toward us, beaming.

“Mommy, Mommy! Look!” She held up a Rapunzel doll.

“Can I have her? Please? She has real brushable hair!” Maddie clutched the box to her chest like she’d just been entrusted with state secrets.

I chuckle, “That’s yarn, sweetie. You can’t brush it.”

“Can I have her? Please, Mommy?”

I looked at him, then at my daughter’s wide, pleading eyes. The panic from earlier was still fading in my bones, but the joy on her face grounded me again.

“Fine,” I said with a knowing smile. “Let’s check her out and ask if she’s ready for a new home.”

Maddie squealed and ran ahead toward the counter.

He straightened, glancing at me with the softest grin.

“She’s something else,” he said.

I met his eyes, the warmth still lingering between us.

“She really is.”

He smiled—soft, sheepish. A little unsure.

There was a pause.

My eyes flicked between him, the floor, and Maddie standing at the counter, rocking on her heels with the raggedy doll held up against her chest.

I didn’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was the way he spoke to her, so tender.

Maybe it was the way he panicked when I first approached them—all flustered and apologetic, tripping over his words like he hadn’t spoken out loud in days.

Maybe it was his eyes—big, toffee-colored, and far too curious. The way he kept looking at me like I was a puzzle he genuinely wanted to solve.

Despite everything in me that usually resisted introducing new people into our lives, I felt it—that pull.

I wanted to know him.

“I should get going,” he said, his voice low, like he didn’t really want to.

I nodded, even though something in me quietly hoped he’d stay just a little longer.

“Of course. Thank you again. For everything.”

He looked down, then back at me, like he was still trying to memorize something.

“It was… nice meeting you. Both of you.”

“It was nice meeting you too.”

He took a step back, then paused.

“I hope she keeps believing in magic,” he said, glancing toward Maddie with something almost wistful in his eyes.

“She will,” I said, smiling. “She has a good reason to.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Just smiled once more—brighter this time—before turning and walking away.

And even though I knew I’d just met him… I wanted to call out after him. Maybe invite him to eat with us, I had the pretense of him keeping my daughter safe. It would be so easy, just go, “hey wait!”

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Because despite having every reason to call out to him, to try and integrate him into my life, the fear in me always ended up eating my intentions up.

Still. I had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last time I saw him..

I stayed still for a moment, just watching him leave.

It wasn’t until he disappeared from view that I finally moved—walking to the counter where my daughter was waiting, still cradling her new doll like a prize.

“Where did Spencer go?” she asked, as soon as I appeared beside her.

Spencer. So that's his name.

It fit him, somehow. A little old-fashioned, a little too soft around the edges for someone who carried so much weight in his eyes. But now that she’d said it out loud, I couldn’t imagine him being called anything else.

“He had to leave, sweetheart.”

Her little face fell just slightly. “Will we see him again? I want to see more magic.”

I crouched beside her, brushing her hair back behind one ear as I pulled her into my arms. The weight of the day finally caught up to me—settling in my chest like something too big to name.

“Who knows, Maddie,” I murmured, holding her tight. “Maybe someday.”

I pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.

“I need you to promise me something, okay?”

She blinked up at me, her Rapunzel doll dangling loosely from one arm.

“Don’t ever wander off like that again. Spencer was kind, and he kept you safe. But not everyone is like him. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

She nodded, serious now. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“I know, baby,” I whispered, holding her again. “I just need you safe.”

“I promise, Mommy.” She murmured.

“Thank you, honey.” I kissed her temple. “Now… let’s buy you this doll and go get something to eat.”

She grinned, her earlier worry forgotten, clutching Rapunzel to her chest like she’d just made a new friend.

We walked out hand-in-hand, the late morning sun spilling through the library doors as they shut behind us.

And even though I told myself it was just another Saturday…

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else had quietly begun.

Next Chapter

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #post prison spencer #post prison reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert

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luffysprincess · 11 months ago

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LIE DETECTOR TEST : RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : rensuke kunigami x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 740

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “girlfriend”, unedited, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : kunigami was highly requested and I’m sorry for such a long wait but I finally got the motivation to write his part!! lmk who should be interviewed next <33 ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira’s version pls send me the link. I never saved it before I deactivated my previous acc TT

⊹ isagi’s version | bachira’s version

Kunigami’s never been hooked up to a polygraph before. He’s never been in an interview like this before either. When the team’s PR manager introduced the idea to the team, Kunigami was rather excited for something so fun and unique. It’d definitely get them more attention and hopefully expand their fan base. Not to mention, he used to love watching those ‘answering your tweets’ interviews so he was looking forward to being on the other end of the screen this time.

He, however, did not expect the fans to be so dirty minded.

“Twitter user @/rensuckmyclit asks ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

He shouldn’t be so surprised, not after hearing what Isagi and Bachira had to answer but he was hoping he’d get some tame questions. How in the hell was he supposed to answer this?

It didn’t help that he could hear the two men beside him laughing at his expression, one of shock, confusion and embarrassment. But he’s made his bed and now he’s gotta lie in it or however the saying goes.

“Yeah breeding is…nice, and uh you can’t?” his statement coming out as more of a question.

All heads in the room turn to Milo, the polygraph examiner, curious to hear his verdict but are met with an old man frowning at his machine. “Inconclusive.”

“Maybe try saying more than just two words, idiot,” Isagi sarcastically adds as he punches his arm.

“Don’t bother lying, Milo’ill catch ya,” Bachira adds, grinning mischievously at the ginger.

“I’ll repeat the question for you: ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

“How are you even saying that with a straight face?!” Kunigami questions. “Ugh nevermind.…Breeding is uh…a yes for me.”

“So you’re into it?”

“Yes I’m into it,” he sighs.

“Milo?”

“Truth”

“And as for the second part of the question—god I can’t believe I’m about to say this on camera—,” Kunigami drags his hand down his face and mutters out the rest of the answer, “only Y/N gets a ‘rensuke creampie’.” He uses his free hand to form air quotes for the embarrassing term.

“Y/N?” the interviewer questions.

“My girlfriend. Now can I get the next question before these two pass out? Megs looks like he forgot how to breathe– dammit its not that funny!” Hearing their usually collected teammate lose his temper over this only released another wave of cackles from the boys, contagious enough that even the polygraph examiner and the interviewer couldn’t hold back their chuckles. Kunigami can only huff in embarrassment as he waits for what’s next.

“Okay, okay… our next question is from twitter user @/kunigamisrightasscheekhairs.”

“What the fuck are these handles?”

“I think they’re creative,” Bachira snickers.

“They ask ‘What’s the weirdest thing you’ve been asked to sign?’”

Kunigami takes a second to reflect on all his fan interactions. Frowning, he hums in thought and just when he thinks he’s got answer he remembers an even odder instance. On the outside he looks like a fish opening and closing its mouth with nothing ever coming out until finally he sits up straighter to respond, “Someone once asked me to sign her tits.”

“What’s the verdict Milo? Is he telling the truth?”

“Yup.”

“Well did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sign the girl’s tits.”

“I don’t need to answer that so I won’t” Kunigami smirks at Isagi feeling smart but the blue eyed man just smirks back, “Well that just makes it seem like you definitely did. I wonder if Y/N knows about this. Should I tell her?”

Isagi is met with Kunigami’s playful glare and a series of curses thrown at him, all of which will be censored out when this episode is posted on BlueTube.

However, the room is silenced when Kunigami goes serious. He turns to the camera with a straight face, “I’m only admitting this because I don’t want any false accusations of me cheating or anything going around. Yes I signed her tits. And yes Y/N knows about it. They were her tits. And because I know one of these two idiots will ask, yes we were dating at the time.”

“All true,” the examiner confirms but one look at Kunigami’s face would be more than enough to know if he was really telling the truth. Afterall, his face was turning redder than his hair.

taglist: @kazuubaby @satanblessing @saiki-enthusiast @nnasv @nymphsdomain @mitzukichan18 @celestair @ilovechuuyaa @mortallytenaciouskoala @tsumu-senpai @hweartiish

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock anime #kunigami rensuke #bllk kunigami #kunigami x reader #blue lock kunigami #kunigami smut #rensuke kunigami #bllk x reader #blue lock isagi #blue lock bachira #bllk lie detector series

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unknown7s · 6 months ago

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Can I just say that I really fucking HATE how the majority of the Arcane fandom praising Season 2 is deeply in the mindset of Piltover in reality? Like, it's not even funny, and I don't know where to begin.

I'll just start with Silco because he's this huge metaphorical character who is clearly written as the embodiment of a long list of sociopolitical agendas in the real world. And before I start, pardon my English, since it's not my first language.

I know y'all in the Anglo-American sphere tend to focus more on classism, inequality and police brutality theme. But the way I see it, THAT and every single dialogue plus the specific word choice of Silco & Sevika literally SCREAMS of postcolonial discourse (I guess F. Fanon is most well-known to y'all) and even some part of M. Foucault's philosophy, etc. I'm writing "etc." because the list will go on forever if I describe all these creepy historical parallels between the depiction of Zaun's internal conflict and what real countries that have been (or still are) colonies went through, and what real colonizer propaganda looked like during that time—like how those characters who fight for the nation's independence are the big bad villain and psychotic monsters who need "redemption arc" therapy, while those who cooperate with the oppressors are the good-hearted familial heroes of this story.

So upon reflection, if this fandom were to be a collective intelligence, we should have asked ourselves, "Is this show truly not problematic for portraying such a character as villainous?" and thus, "Is this show thematically implying far-right propaganda?" even before Season 2 presented us with this insane plot that glamorized the militaristic fascist aristocrat proclaiming martial law as a 'romantic revenge arc'.

But what did the majority of the fandom do since 2022? They were so busy shitting on this dead villain, claiming he has done so much wrong that he doesn't even deserve to be praised as a character. So instead of trying to understand where this character's point of view is coming from, they blindly hate him to the point where they are now fabricating a list of crimes that he didn't even commit, editing false information on the fandom wiki profile.

What's more frustrating to me is that I thought the problem was media illiteracy all along, but oh no, I was being way more optimistic than the reality. Now that I’ve read all these interviews from the showrunner and main writer—Linke and Overton—I get the sense of why Season 2 turned out like that. The more they babble on about this show, the clearer it becomes that they don't even acknowledge how messed up their political views are, which are so far-right. Taking the seemingly-centrist line doesn't make you fair, you're just passively siding with the oppressors. And lesbian sex scene doesn't make this show "progressive", in fact, hiding oppressor fantasy behind a rainbow flag makes it even more treacherous.

So yeah, I think critical voices should be much louder than this, but watching the majority of this fandom neglacting problems only to praise the show? I think my hope for humanity kind of get lost more and more as time passes, lol.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane critical #arcane criticism #arcane writing #arcane thematic problem #silco #vander #jinx #vi #sevika #ekko #caitlyn

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casscainmainly · 28 days ago

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Duke and Bruce: A Question of Definition

When re-reading Cursed Wheel, I was struck by this exchange. Suspicions around Bruce's motive for taking in Duke is a running thread in their relationship, but what fascinates me about this moment is that Duke is using this suspicion against Bruce. He knows Bruce will be hurt by this accusation. More than hurt - Bruce's "maybe" suggests uncertainty, a lack of faith in himself. In this exchange, Duke and Bruce are both uncertain of what they mean to each other, and both troubled by that uncertainty.

This uncertainty runs throughout their time together. I'm going to try to track Bruce & Duke's dynamic through the years; basically, this post collects my disparate Bruce-Duke thoughts from my full Duke read. So warning that this is a LONG post.

I will probably contradict takes I've had in the past but you live and you learn 😭. Also the Bruce-Duke dynamic shifts a lot so this is not definitive or 100% correct - lots of these moments can be interpreted differently! But with all that said, let's jump into Zero Year!

The Beginning

Duke and Bruce first meet during the disaster called Zero Year, where Riddler blacks out and floods Gotham:

Batman (2011) #21

At its core, Zero Year and Endgame are about Bruce's relationship to Gotham. Duke says "He thinks you're dead[...] ever since he killed the city." Batman's death becomes intertwined with the city's death; in the reverse way, Duke in Bruce's mind will become intertwined with Gotham. This exchange sets up their relationship as reciprocal: Bruce gives Duke his fish, and Duke gives Bruce information. From the beginning, they have equal need for each other.

Batman (2011) #30

After Duke's parents rescue Bruce, Bruce tries to persuade Duke to leave Gotham. Duke replies: "No. We're here." Duke's decision to stay in Gotham directly influences Bruce to stay as well - here, we begin to see Bruce linking Duke to the city. This issue establishes that their relationship in some ways revolves around the city itself.

Batman (2011) #38

Then, Joker arranges for Duke and his parents to star in a re-enactment of the Wayne murders. Bruce manages to rescue Duke only, and then Bruce asks Duke to help him find a first aid kit for Jim. This scene parallels their first meeting in #21 (see the fish panel above!), with one handing something to the other. Their positions are flipped: this time it's Duke handing something to Bruce. The flipping nods to the 'reciprocity' aspect, and also to the way they parallel and will continue to parallel each other (particularly in Snyder's writing).

But this is also the first moment of genuine connection between the two of them! Bruce asks Duke to be a "friend," and they fist bump. Nowhere near familial, but a bit more intimate - this intimacy is more on Bruce's side than Duke's though. Duke still sees Bruce as primarily Batman, but Batman begins to think about Duke as an individual. This one-sided growing intimacy is a core tenet of their dynamic.

Symbols and People

Let's address this 'one-sided intimacy'. To Duke, Bruce is Batman first and foremost, and he criticises Bruce whenever he's not:

Batman (2011) #47

To Duke, Bruce is just anybody, but Batman? That symbol "inspire[s]" people, and "no one could be [Batman] but you!" His faith in Bruce is entirely tied to the Bat symbol. Concurrently with his growing understanding of the Robin symbol in We Are Robin, a large part of Duke's early story is about symbols as markers of community and hope. He prioritises Batman's relationship to the city over any relationship he personally could have with Bruce.

Bruce's view of their relationship has shades of this too. He tends to describe Duke in terms of his effect on the city:

From Batman & The Signal #3 and Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal respectively, both of these are about Duke's potential to benefit Gotham. The latter in particular shows Bruce idealising Duke as the 'perfect' Gothamite, a "represent[ation]" of the city's best.

This kind of idolisation skates close to early Bruce-Cass, particularly the idea of Duke being the 'best' (analogous to Bruce calling Cass 'perfect'). But Bruce does not go as far as he did with Cass. Other Duke fans have said this, but in a lot of ways Bruce is actively trying not to fall into previous parenting/mentoring failures. So he tamps down this symbolisation with lines about Duke as a specific person:

Batman & The Signal #1

"Something independent of the past, and... of me." The wording here is so careful, so constructed to highlight Duke's agency and to separate Duke from Bruce's previous relationships. Bruce also separates Duke from himself, avoiding the projection that was characteristic of, yet again, early Bruce-Cass. I'm Cass-brained so I'm mostly using Cass but these pitfalls occur for his other kids as well. Bruce does see Duke as a symbol of Gotham/hope, but he also knows the importance of seeing Duke as an individual with agency.

Bruce's struggles drive him to differentiate Duke from the other Robins, to cover him in bats but allow him to work during the day, to constantly show how important Duke is to him personally but only verbally acknowledge Duke's importance to Gotham. He ends up simultaneously pulling Duke into the family (offering him the manor, giving him a Batsuit, working alongside him in All-Star) and accepting Duke's distance (allowing him to work in the daytime, giving him his own cave, putting him on the Outsiders).

And Duke, being the detective he is, notices.

Insecurity

A ton of Duke stories feature people telling Duke he doesn't fit/shouldn't be here:

Dark Nights: Death Metal Robin King // Cursed Wheel Part 2 // Cursed Wheel Part 6 // Detective Comics (2016) 983

Duke brushes some of these instances, but he does internalise some of it. See Batman and the Signal #1 and Cursed Wheel Part 6:

Duke's insecurities are not about Bruce alone. They're about being unable to find community, represented by the Batfam in both cases. But Bruce is a huge factor in the insecurity, and the Cursed Wheel panel in particular is so evocative for me. The way Duke frames it - "They found a way inside with you" - suggests that Duke is expecting Bruce to help him. He doesn't want Bruce's approval, but he does need Bruce to help him through this, in the reciprocal way they've always helped each other.

But I think Bruce's struggle to define what Duke means to him, as I outlined above, is part of why Duke feels Bruce isn't helping him. Duke begins to question Bruce's motives in taking him in:

Batman and the Signal #2 // Dark Days: The Casting

Bruce shuts it down every time (including in Cursed Wheel Part 6), but it doesn't really make Duke feel better. "I chose you because of who you are / I only wanted to be there when you decided what you were going to become." Bruce consistently highlights Duke's agency/individuality as the reason he took him in, but it just doesn't jibe with what actually happens - not Bruce giving him two suits, putting the bat on him, etc. And Duke sees that inconsistency, so anytime Bruce pulls out an 'it's just because you're cool Duke,' it doesn't ring true. They both know that's not Bruce's entire motive.

That brings me to the panel I opened this post with. Duke questions whether Bruce took him in for self-serving reasons, and Bruce pauses before saying "maybe." Duke hits on the reason for Bruce's inconsistent behaviour - Bruce himself is uncertain about his motives for taking Duke in, and afraid they are selfish. This uncertainty in turn sows insecurity in Duke, because he values and desires transparency. As long as Bruce is unsure about why he took Duke in, Duke cannot be fully comfortable in his position in the Batfam.

Parenthood

But what's the root of Bruce's uncertainty? Right before the Cursed Wheel argument, Bruce suggests moving Elaine and Doug away. What Duke says - 'maybe you took me in out of guilt' - is a paraphrase of what a Jokerised Elaine told him earlier. This argument, and Bruce's uncertainty, revolves around Duke's parents.

Bruce is kind of the reason anything happens to Duke's parents anyway (since Joker mimics the Wayne murders), but Bruce also promises Duke everything will be alright:

Batman (2011) #38

Duke doesn't blame Bruce for what happened to his parents or his inaction on finding them - he calls Bruce's amnesia 'selfish', but it's more a general critique than a personal one. But I think Bruce does blame himself for failing to keep his promise. I'm extrapolating a lot because we don't really see any of Bruce's feelings, but thinking of his reaction to Duke's mom's absence in Batman: Urban Legends #18:

Jefferson says Duke is going to make a mistake that he'll "never forgive himself" for, but they "owe [Duke] more than that". This is pure extrapolation but I like to read this as touching on Bruce's guilt for never having found Duke's parents earlier, something he'll never forgive himself for. He owes Duke, which is why he becomes hell bent on finding Elaine when she goes missing again. But if he's guilty at this point, then the guilt could have run through their entire relationship.

Which makes things so complicated!! Bruce feels guilty about not saving Duke's parents; Bruce loves how much Duke loves his parents; Bruce thinks it's not good for Duke to spend so much time thinking about his parents; Bruce also, maybe, a little bit, wants to be Duke's parent. Thinking of this tidbit from Detective Comics #984:

Bruce warns Jefferson about how he should treat Duke, and the very first thing he says is that Duke "won't want another father figure". This shows that a) Duke and fatherhood is a touchy subject and b) it's a subject at the forefront of Bruce's mind. This wording also leaves it ambiguous whether Bruce considers himself a 'father figure'. The next line is nonsense about Duke respecting Bruce too much to 'challenge' him, which is plain wrong, but it does show that Bruce is not very clear what his relationship to Duke is. He's not exactly a 'father figure,' but neither is he a stranger like Jefferson. This in-betweenness is repeated by Duke in Batman & The Outsiders (2019) #1, when he says "You're not my father. And you're not Batman." Batman occupies this nebulous role in Duke's life, orbiting fatherhood but never quite touching it.

Though I think this discomfort around fatherhood is more on Bruce's side, nebulous fatherhood is also a motif for Duke. In Batman & The Signal, Gnomon's presence disrupts a lot of Duke's beliefs about 'family'. We don't have too much on Duke's feelings about Gnomon (recurring thing... sigh) but we do have morsels:

Batman: Urban Legends #18 // Batman: The Secret Files: The Signal

Gnomon makes Duke question Doug's 'father' status; simultaneously, Duke struggles with this idea of 'trading' his WAR family for the Batfamily; then, in Urban Legends, Duke imagines his mom accusing him of loving his dad more than her. All of this shows Duke is deeply troubled by familial replacement - he's terrified of losing his family, particularly Doug and Elaine, because he's found other people he considers family. Bruce figures as both a symbol of the Batfamily and as a possible-father, undergirding a lot of Duke's fears here. So while Bruce more overtly grapples with the way their relationship is defined, Duke also struggles with it.

It's why Duke imagines Bruce under 'family' in Batman & The Signal #3, and then immediately amends it to 'mentor' and 'friend'. In a way, Duke's namelessness in All-Star Batman is a symbolic encapsulation of how neither of them name what they mean to each other.

Our Best Selves

BUT while their relationship is complex and filled with uncertainty, it can also be a really beautiful, really healing thing for both of them.

All-Star Batman #3

Bruce has a long history of shutting people out and being dishonest, which has landed him in hot water with his allies many times. But Duke, who represents honesty and truth, allows him in turn to be honest. Duke knows Bruce needs someone to hear him talk about Harvey, and Bruce knows that Duke needs the truth. And they offer each other what they need, as they have from the very beginning.

Bruce does this for Duke, too, in Batman: Urban Legends #18:

Duke has been working himself to the bone trying to find his mom, to the Outsiders' worry. But it's Bruce's appearance that allows Duke to finally talk about what he's been working on. This panel just really gets me because Duke is talking to all of them but looking straight at Bruce - at a man so entangled with Gotham, with what happened to Doug and Elaine. He wants Bruce to understand. Bruce does.

They are both people who have such a deep love for Gotham, for their parents, who believe in rehabilitation and the goodness of people. And they'll always save each other.

All-Star Batman #5

All-Star Batman #5 // Batman (2011) #50

So actually this section is about the random Duke appearance in Detective Comics #982. Deacon Blackfire tells Bruce that Gotham is cursed, and the issue takes Bruce through ruminations about underserved Gotham neighbourhoods, the role of community, and ends with him watching the sun come up with a little boy. IT'S SO DUKE, like everything Duke stands for, but it's also what Bruce stands for too!! And what's interesting is that when Bruce is told he's alone, he imagines Dick, Babs, Damian, and Duke. Duke says, "we're out best selves because of you."

The Duke-Bruce relationship is a reciprocal one, so Bruce may bring out the best in Duke but Duke also brings out the best in Bruce. And they both believe in the best of people, the best of the city. They are both in love with Gotham, with their families, and they both deeply believe in rehabilitation and promises. They are their best selves because of each other.

Conclusion

In Cursed Wheel Part 4, Duke decides to keep his parents on the premises. He tells Bruce that no matter what his parents say, the truth is that they love him, and he can take it. And Bruce smiles.

Because even though Bruce was the one who suggested moving his parents away - even though he may want Duke to be in his family - he loves Duke because he would never let his parents be moved. Through all of the symbols they make out of each other, all of the slippery definitions of fatherhood, friendship, and mentorship, they are two people who fundamentally get each other. Duke gets where Bruce is coming from with Harvey, and Bruce gets what Duke needs (with the daytime, with the Outsiders, with finding his mom).

The best Bruce-Duke moments are layered with an intimacy that isn't necessarily familial, but is also not strictly teacher-student. They've grown close, but they are also still independent of each other - and though I don't think either of them will ever fully say what they are, that's not so important. They may never be fully free of the uncertainty that underlies their relationship, but they love each other, and the indefinability of their love doesn't make it any less strong.

#bruce wayne #duke thomas #meta #I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #2500 WORDS... wow how come i can't write school papers this quick #anyway this isn't really coherent and it doesn't say anything in particular it's all very scattershot #i just had a LOT of thoughts but a lot of this has been said already by other duke fans!!#this is 1 of 2 super long duke metas i have in my head. here's to hoping the next isn't even longer omg #also a lot of this is based on my interpretations + my preferred understanding of bruce & duke!! there are many equally great readings <3 #bruce & duke forever!!!!!#all-star batman did start all this... the bruce & duke comic of ALL TIME

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