#anyway I am not nearly as well-read as I’d like to be

[cahootings]

Do you have any ofmd fic recommendations? I’m out of things to read. If you don’t have time to compile a list just ignore this, but I like your opinions so I thought I’d ask (:

ok first of all im so flattered i don’t know how to act 😚 secondly, and I am sorry for this, but im fairly sure most of my favorite fics I have gotten from specifically you posting them ahskfjshskfjd WHOOPS!!!

thirdly if you have not made your way through the entirety of @darcylindbergh/@forpiratereasons’ AO3 catalog, you must. I won’t lie that’s where I spend most of my fic time. Darcy doesn’t know how obsessed I am with her writing except now she does. Also specifically this one that, im not kidding, I reread like every other week. Such a concept and fits them so well. Also riding double is so heartachingly sweet, I come back to that one a lot too. I love them oh my god

losing count by @bizarrelittlemew !! still one of my favorites man it made me cry like a baby it’s so beautiful!!

so long, seabird they are soooooo…. Them. so absurd. they can’t shut up and I never want them to. by oh wait you wrote this one you devil

bright & early by @summerlinenss idk what else to say they’re in love and they take care of each other

also these hello collar fic my beloved. Chasing this high forever. I love seeing them communicate and understand and help each other and also I love the collar what can I SAY!!!!

[fingertipsmp3]

This book I’m reading is so good I’m genuinely mad that I put off reading it

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[luveline]

Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty 

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible. 

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts. 

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential. 

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer? 

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord? 

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other. 

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world. 

“Yeah, hi. You okay?” 

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.” 

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?” 

“Do you want to get takeout?” 

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.” 

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.” 

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises. 

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight? 

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger. 

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in. 

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear. 

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.” 

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.” 

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.” 

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position. 

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.” 

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly. 

“I’m trying to.” 

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.” 

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.” 

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again. 

[heavenbarnes]

Hello I’m ruminating on olderbf!Simon and how down bad I am for him. I have so many thoughts that do not relate to each other but I would love to just braindump on ya if I may!

-olderbf!Simon and reader obviously into voyeurism/exhibitionism with the other 141 and hearing all of their dirty thoughts, but I get the sense that Simon would NOT like to hear literally anyone else talking that way about his girl. Like if a recruit or lower rank soldier saw reader and said something gross in earshot of Simon we might actually have a murder on our hands. What do you think?

-when/if reader ever gets bratty, how might Simon punish her? Maybe instead of having punishment sex he would actually withhold his dick from her? But then ofc he’s also horny and depraved so it ends up being as much of a punishment for him

-how do you envision them sharing a bed? Are they big spooners or does Simon run so hot that reader can’t handle him being nearby?

Anyway I need to lie down now I’m unwell about him xoxo

read this in the carpark before work and had to ruminate on it all day until now 🫶🏼

there was an internal battle your older bf!simon was facing. there was a part of him, a filthy part of him, that damn near needed everyone to know how good you could be for him.

but there was a bigger part that’d rather die than have anyone think of you like that.

enter 141.

men that simon could literally trust with his life, knew him better than anyone (anyone other than you). he could trust them with his life and he could trust them with a group chat full of your most intimate moments.

however, anyone else tried to even think about you? intimately or not?

there wasn’t a place they could hide.

“jesus, L.T- the fuckin’ sight a’that”

“woah, the things i’d do to-“

one stone faced expression hidden behind a balaclava, another fighting a shit eating grin off his face.

“i’d start runnin’ if i wa’you”

not like they’d ever be able to run fast enough.

and your older bf!simon knows orders better than anyone. lives by them, loves by them.

so when you’ve acted out, he knows that you need an order- need something to get you back to sweet and pliant like he’s used to.

no use fucking it back into you, minute he sinks even the tip in- it’s him going dumb and forgetting what the mission even was.

he has to go to the next extreme.

“no touchin’, sweet’art”

your hands went back under your thighs, back pressed to the arm of the couch as you watched the man in front of you. fucking hell.

simon had one rough hand wrapped around his cock, wrist twisting as he tugged himself off. the sounds of his broken moans, the spit slick of his palm.

pure fucking torture.

“please, si”

that nearly did it, he nearly gave in with one little whimper from you.

“i’ll be good”

simon’s eyes flickered up the length of you, eyes locking with yours. he could see the well of tears on your lower lashes, he could see the way your lip was fixed between your teeth.

“what’ya say then?”

crawling, fucking crawling across the couch to him- you let him feed the tip into your mouth, muffling your words as you spoke.

“m’sorry si”

and when it’s you and your older bf!simon in your bed at the end of a long day, there’s nothing quite like it for him.

he has to be touching you.

up to him? he likes to be spooning you, curve of your back against his chest and your ass nestled nicely against his cock.

where you belong.

but the man’s big and that means that man’s warm so sometimes he has to settle for a hand against your stomach or a leg between yours.

just as long as he’s touching you.

he’s happiest, however, when your head is on his chest and he can see your peaceful little face rise and fall with his breathing. to him, he can almost imagine you exist as one.

when he can hear your little breaths, the tiny (or not so tiny) snores drifting out your lips as he traces the lines of your face with a long finger.

tactile guy is our simon, but only when it comes to you.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Reader receives Peggys nudes accidentally

Authors note: For Cap Carter specifically (Agent Carter is also hot, but this damn super soldier has me in a choke hold)

Word count: 691

Marvel Masterlist How They React To Masterlist

   Technology is not her strong suit, she'd be the first one to tell you that too. So, it's hardly a surprise that she messed something up regarding her phone and its picture sending abilities. However, it is a surprise that she managed to accomplish sending you not just one, but two full frontal nudes that she had experimentally taken in the mirror after a shower while back. And she'd somehow done so just by shoving her phone in her pocket haphazardly after leaving a meeting. Great.

   She has no idea what to do here, is there a way to unsend a photo? She hasn't a clue. Stark would know, and could probably do it too, but she would rather fist fight an alligator than explain this situation to the smug genius and have him see her pictures

   “Oh, hell…” she mutters as she notices the read symbol showing up below the messages. 

   Knowing that you've now actually seen them, meaning you've seen her in full glory, has her face turning nearly as red as the stripes on her suit. Even though she's sure you're aware this was accidental, she wishes to apologize for her enormous blunder, but currently her hands just won't cooperate. 

   On your end, you really aren't fairing much better. You had been working on finishing up some after mission reports when your phone went off, twice. Now normally you would have ignored it, as you really did need to finish the paperwork for Hill. But from the drop-down notification you could see that it had been Peggy, and since you have a soft spot for the woman, and no it certainly wasn’t because you were crushing on her, you decided to let yourself be distracted

   You come to regret that now though, because you're absolutely certain you were not meant to see those pictures of her. And you feel terrible, because even knowing that, you couldn't stop yourself from looking anyway. You knew the serum had bulked her up, afterall you'd gotten glimpses of some of that due to her workout apparel, but seeing her bare really drove the point home of just how fit she truly was. And the way the water droplets gathered in the recesses of her defined muscles, god was it attractive. But you do your best to shake those thoughts away. Now was not the time to ogle, as she was surely panicking. Now was the time to be casual, if at all possible. 

   She's not sure how long she sat there mentally berating herself for getting you both into this mess before her phone dings. She's all too aware that it was a message coming through and her stomach twists in knots with the anticipation that it's most likely you responding to her photos. She takes a deep breath before picking up the device to read your message

   Jesus Peg, take a girl to dinner first

   Her stomach twists again, but this time for an entirely different reason. You didn’t sound upset that you had gotten them, and you certainly weren’t disgusted by her accidental implication that you’d be into another woman. In fact, though you were trying to be comical about the ordeal, it almost seemed as though you liked them. And the thought alone had her heart pounding in her chest

   Bloody device had a mind of its own, I am truly sorry

   No harm done. Besides, I’d rather get your nudes than anyone else's

   Oh my god, did you really just type that? And hit send?? You slam your head down against your desk with a groan and pray that it goes undelivered, or that somehow her phone spontaneously combusts before she can read it. However, you aren't that lucky.

   Her eyebrows raise at your admission, and she finds herself chewing on her bottom lip in contemplation. Should she take a risk? Surely there'd be no harm in it, if you reacted this well to an unsolicited picture of her naked then your reaction to a date request wouldn’t be anything she couldn’t handle.

Well then, how about we grab that dinner? I can pick you up at 6

[kerensilkiss]

Cater X reader who doesn't have social media?

Reader doesn't know anything about news or related to that, so he's like

"have you seen this about ___?" "Who?" "That famous guy" "am I supposed to know who he is?" JUST AN EXAMPLE LMAO

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐒/𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 ── ᡣ𐭩

↳ 661 words

↳ romantic . ݁₊ ⊹ .

↳ content | how cater interacts with an s/o who has no social media!

↳ HII STAR!! this is a perfect request for cater omg. anyways, enjoy!

♱ ˖° one of the very first questions that cater asked you upon your meeting was what your magicam handle was, you were already charming him so of course he had to get to know you. however, your only response was “what’s magicam?” the poor heartslabyul student nearly had whiplash from how fast he turned his head to look at you, his face was completely engulfed with shock. never in his life had he met someone with no social media, for him it was practically his life force, a way to express himself and show off all of his fun adventures at night raven. so just hearing that was an utter surprise, but he quickly bounced back and offered to exchange numbers instead. he wasn’t going to ditch his chance to get to know you, whether you had social media or not wasn’t going to be enough to drive cay cay away.

♱ ˖° and lucky for him, this lead to him forming a very loving relationship with you. your dynamic was odd to some others, considering how important social media was to your boyfriend and your lack of it made them very confused. but this worked out well for the both of you, now cater had the perfect person to gossip to and you had one of the sweetest guys in school as your boyfriend. his friendly attitude also translated well into your gossip sessions after school, but they were dates more than anything. specially for these dates, cater would convince trey to make a small plate of pastries because he knew you liked them and he himself would prepare a pot of tea to go along with. you need tea to spill it, right? either way, these gossiping dates become the highlights of your week as well as his own. he feel like he can be truly honest with his opinions as he recounts all these stories and news he reads, he can just be cater with you.

♱ ˖° he will always ask if you want to take selfies with him, and if you say no he completely respects it. but if you don’t mind your photo being taken, he is constantly snapping them throughout the day so he can post them on his magicam. you’re in potionology? you look so cute, let me snap a pic! you’re sitting at lunch together? honey, you’re adorable. let me take a photo of that pretty smile! he posts photos of you together or of just you all the time, his followers are never without an update about what the two of you are doing or where you’re going.

♱ ˖° cater is always keeping up with the trends, no matter what he is always aware of what’s popular at the time. which also leads to him catching up on the latest news, he is almost never in the unknown when it comes to celeb break ups, divorces, or affairs. at this point, cater is a walking news article when he comes to you with new information. he is very expressive about it too, he acts like it’s the end of of the world. but, you find it quite endearing that you’re the first one who gets to hear about whatever news he just found out about. he also isn’t afraid to back track a bit if you don’t understand or remember something he told you, he truly appreciates that you try to listen to every word he says. he knows he can talk a lot, and can be rather annoying at times, but he’s just happy you’re there.

“hon, have you heard the news about neige? it’s seriously so terrible…”

“who?”

“neige, neige leblanche. y’know, the celeb i raved to you about yesterday?”

“oh, that guy? i thought he just got broken up with?”

“no, cutie. you got your celebs mixed up, but it’s okay! cay cay can explain it again, if you’d like!”

“i’d be happy to listen, cater.”

@𝐯𝐪𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐝 ♱

[matchavellichor]

Hi, I hope your day is going well when you read this!! I know you said you were currently taking a slight break from writing due to school, and first of all, I'm wishing you the very best of your studies! But I thought I would send a request just in case you do resume writing fics in the future, but feel free to ignore this! This seems a bit plain, but I was wondering if you could write an ominis x fmc where mc is terribly shy and avoidant to no one but ominis due to her feelings for him? Over time, though, Ominis observes her personality when interacting with other people, becoming fond of her but is left conflicted seeing how nervous she is around him, leaving him to wonder if she hates him or not. Since Ominis can’t see MC staring at him or how her cheeks go red around him, we could perhaps have Sebastian take note of this and act like the typical tease-playing wingman to set Ominis and MC up? It’s a pretty fluffy request, but you can lead it down any road you want, whether it turns out suggestively or not.

A/N: hi!!! tysm for the kindness <3 uni is still kind of hectic at the moment unfort, but i LOVED this idea sm so i decided to write a lil something anyway. ty for the request, hope you enjoy!

Great Expectations

Ominis x f!MC - Fluff - 3k words

Summary: Urged on by Sebastian's insistence that the reason for MC's evasiveness is that she harbors a secret crush, Ominis decides to take Sebastian's advice and find this out for himself.

Tags: Miscommunication, Wingman Sebastian, Clueless Ominis, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Banter, First Kiss

"Some light reading?"

Ominis can sense the way she startles, nearly dropping the tall stack of books balanced carefully in her arms.

“Oh, uh…hello, Ominis,” she greets as she rights herself, voice oddly tight. “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

“Always am. The library’s practically my second home at this point,” he smiles warmly, making some attempt at small talk.

There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat to break the silence. “I uh, I hadn’t realized you were such an avid reader yourself,” he tilts his head, waving his wand over the topmost title in her pile. “Ah, and you have taste! Dickens is brilliant. I’d love to pick your brain sometime about—”

“I apologize, if—you’ll um, if you’ll excuse me,” she suddenly interrupts, eyes trained at her feet, before she’s brushing past him in the tight corridor of shelves and exiting towards one of the more populated corners of the library.

Ominis frowns, brows knitting together in confusion and what’s beginning to morph into genuine offense at this point.

“Was it something I said?” he mutters under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ever since they had become acquaintances, any attempts at amicability on his part had been met with brisk dismissals, curt replies, and her avoiding him like the plague. At first he thought her simply timid, but after observing her behavior with the likes of Sebastian or Garreth or any of her other friends, Ominis had been seriously considering some innate character flaw of his own.

He had thought he had made some progress in their relationship at the last gathering they had frequented, a weekend get-together in the Slytherin common room, but it was quickly becoming apparent that he’d been sorely mistaken.

Was he really so unapproachable? Dreadfully unlikeable? Did she simply have no interest in befriending him?

Ominis tries to pretend his ego isn't bruised by this notion, but fails miserably when his brain wanders to more woeful reasons as to why she would want nothing to do with him. His family’s notoriety and the rumors surrounding his person that are frequently pedaled around the castle undoubtedly have already reached her ears.

Filled with a strange sense of defeat, Ominis abandons any of his original plans of reading in favor of sulking in the common room alone. Less than two steps towards the library exit, however, and he’s bombarded by Sebastian.

“Ominis, you sly dog, don’t think I didn’t see you two warming up in the back shelves,” he grins, poking his friend in the ribs and waggling his brows.

Ominis frowns, swatting at the brunette’s hand. “Warming up is certainly not the term I would use. She despises me.”

“Despises you? Are you blind?”

“...Yes?”

“I refuse to believe you’re that blind,” Sebastian amends, scoffing. “Don’t tell me you really haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what? The way she can’t bear to spend longer than a minute around me?” Ominis grumbles. “Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“Oh Gods, you’re just as hopeless as she is,” Sebastian groans, deeply pained. “She doesn’t despise you, she’s head over heels, Ominis,” he leans in with an all-too smug tone. “Take it from a man who knows the ladies.”

Ominis turns his head over his shoulder as if in search. “And, pray tell, where is this man?”

He receives an indignant smack on the arm. “I’m serious! Trust me, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. I mean, why do you think she’s always so nervous around you?”

“She probably thinks I’m going to curse her or something,” Ominis mutters. “My reputation isn’t exactly the nicest, Sebastian. Are you forgetting who my family is?”

Sebastian barks out a laugh. “I’m sorry, Ominis, but anyone who takes even a second out of their day to speak to you will know you’re incapable of harming a lacewing fly. Trust me on this, she likes you.”

Ominis pauses for a moment, considering the possibility that had never before crossed his mind before. An involuntary warmth spreads over his skin, surfacing all kinds of unbidden feelings he doesn’t have much experience in handling. Noticing his contemplative silence, Sebastian peeks at the blonde.

“Oh, Salazar, you’re blushing,” he gasps, no small amount of delight seeping through his tone. “You know, for a while I was half-convinced you were incapable of it. Me and Garreth actually had a bet that were half-vamp—”

Ominis scowls, pushing Sebastian’s fingers away from where they were currently trying to prod at his flushed cheeks. “I am not blushing. Look, this whole notion is ridiculous, even for you, Sebastian. She can barely tolerate me, much less harbor some crush on me.”

“Fine,” Sebastian shrugs, feigning acquiescence. “Then flirt with her. See what happens, and if she truly despises you as you say, then no harm, no foul.”

Ominis sputters. “I will not flirt with her, don’t be absurd.”

“Why not? If you already believe she hates you, what do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? My already maimed ego? You’ve seen her in Defence against the Dark Arts, if we’re being realistic I’m probably in risk of breaking a couple bones as well—”

“Ominis, just try,” Sebastian groans, looking ready to rip his hair out. “If you don’t, I’m marching right back into that library and flirting with her for you.”

Immediately, memories of Sebastian’s past trysts with women and the sheer amount of crudeness in even his most tame chat-up lines come to mind. Ominis panics. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, we both know I would,” Sebastian grins, stopping in his tracks and turning back towards the library doors. “Remember that one boiling cauldron line Garreth taught me? I’ll go up and tell her you begged me to use it for you—”

“Stop, stop, alright,” Ominis grits, fisting a hand in the back of Sebastian’s robes to pull him back. He sighs. “I’ll….I’ll speak to her, alright?”

Sebastian claps a hand over his shoulder, pleased. “That’s the spirit.”

//

As much as Ominis would have liked to postpone the inevitable as much as possible, fate was not on his side. He had the misfortune of running into her while on his way to the Great Hall for dinner, and with Sebastian by his side, he would have no chance of escape.

After urging his friend on with not so friendly threats, Sebastian made himself scarce, though undoubtedly somewhere within earshot so he could listen to disaster unfold.

“Just the person I was looking for,” he greets with as much warmth as he can manage, though his nerves are broiling a storm in his gut. “Have you gotten in any good reading today?”

Once again, she seems startled by his presence. “You were…looking for me?”

“Well, yes. I was wondering if I might accompany you to dinner?” he smiles. “Would give me a chance to bore you with my fascination with muggle literature.”

“Oh,” her eyes widen, looking almost excited before it’s washed over with anxiety. “I’m sorry, I uh, I wasn’t…going to dinner.”

“Oh,” Ominis frowns, noting how close they were to the Great Hall. “Where were you heading then?”

“The library,” she blurts out and Ominis tilts his head in confusion.

“But the library’s in the opposite direction,” he nods over his shoulder. “And haven’t you just come back from there?”

“I–I have to go,” she says, suddenly swiveling in the other direction and brushing past him. “Apologies.”

Once again, Ominis is left perplexed, and increasingly hurt. The only thing the interaction has done is given him a bigger headache, her behavior irrational in the face of Sebastian’s theory. Ominis finds himself even more convinced she hates his guts.

As if on cue, Sebastian ducks out from behind a tapestry shielding an alcove, an almost pained sort of grimace on his face.

“That was…bad.”

“Understatement of the year,” Ominis groans. “Do you see what I mean? She clearly doesn’t like me, Sebastian. All I’ve done is made a bigger fool of myself.”

“She’s nervous, Ominis. She was blushing the entire interaction. Look, maybe try being more direct? Girls like confidence! Tell her you will spend time with her and that you won’t take no for an answer.”

Ominis blinks at him. “Are you trying to get my bollocks hexed off?”

“While that would be deeply amusing, no,” Sebastian assures. “Look, she’s clearly just too shy to let herself spend time with you, that’s why she runs away. You can’t give her a way out, hell, incarcerous her if you have to.”

Ominis looks genuinely concerned for any women that have had the terrible misfortune of being the objects of Sebastian’s romantic interest. “How you’ve not found yourself in Azkaban yet amazes me.”

“Oh, shush,” he scowls before suddenly snapping his fingers, metaphorical lightbulb lighting up his face. “I’ve got it! Remember how Sharp gave her detention this weekend for sneaking ingredients for Garreth? Just muck something up tomorrow in Potions, and done! She’ll be forced to spend a whole evening with you.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“It’s brilliant,” Sebastian grins, far too proud of himself. “Everyone knows detention is the best place to snog.”

Ominis chokes. “There will be no snogging—”

“Oh, got bigger plans in mind, have you? Ominis, you dirty little devil—”

The tips of his ears burning bright-red, Ominis pushes through the entrance doors to the Great Hall before Sebastian can get another word in, thanking Merlin she’d foregone dinner tonight.

//

While sprinkling some erumpent horn powder in Sharp’s cauldron during a practical demonstration was easier than he’d thought, actually having to go to detention the upcoming Saturday evening was not.

Pacing his dorm room anxiously while he counts down the hours until he has to make his way down to the Potions classroom, Ominis can’t help but be besmirched by his own stupidity at how he inevitably let Sebastian talk him into this.

Like the devil, Sebastian pokes his head through the door, not even bothering to knock. He plops himself down on one of the beds, eyeing the blonde with poorly-concealed bewilderment. “What are you so strung up for?”

“Not helping,” he glowers. “What if she runs away again?”

“Relax, would you?” Sebastian rolls his eyes, standing to walk over and muss the blonde’s hair. Ominis scowls and swats at his friend, but Sebastian is nothing if not stubborn, pulling at Ominis’ neatly folded uniform tie until it drapes messily around his neck.

“Perfect,” he grins, standing back to examine his work.

Ominis frowns, attempting with great futility to smooth his hair back into place. “I look like a delinquent.”

“How would you know?” Sebastian raises a brow. “You look great. Girls like a bit of a bad boy, you know. And after your stunt in Sharp’s class you’re certainly starting to build a reputation.”

“You were the one who told me to do it!”

“I told you to get yourself detention, not cause a minor explosion.”

Waving a wand over his wristwatch to check the time, Ominis’ pulse doubles when he realizes he has to be in Sharp’s classroom in a few minutes.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Sebastian is dragging him out the door, blabbering terrible advice as if he’s sending his friend off to a first date and not detention with a grouchy Potions master.

“—And most importantly of all, compliment her, Ominis. I know you’re not very expressive, but for the love of Merlin, tell her she looks nice,” he practically shoves the blonde through the common room door, adding a final, “have fun! Use the contraceptive charm!”

Ominis is promptly left alone in the dimly-lit corridor, a heat involuntarily rising to his cheeks, praying some greater force will strike him down before he has to humiliate himself any further.

//

The classroom is empty when he finally arrives a few minutes behind schedule, except for where he inevitably finds her scrubbing cauldrons in the back of the room. She tenses when he approaches, but doesn’t startle when he greets her this time. Ominis wonders if he can put it down as progress.

“Sharp asked me to tell you we’re not allowed to use magic,” she nods towards the stack of cauldrons perched on the workspace. “And, um that we’re only to bother him if someone’s bleeding, dying, or dead.”

Ominis nods, pointedly taking the space beside her and dragging one of the soot-covered cauldrons towards him to begin working.

There’s a tension between them that Ominis can’t ignore for the life of him, only the sound of scrubbing to cut through the painstaking silence. After a few unbearable moments, he clears his throat, remembering Sebastian’s advice.

“You look nice tonight,” he attempts, though his voice sounds oddly thick with nerves.

The sound of scrubbing stops. “Sorry?”

“I said you uh, you look very nice,” he attempts with more firmness, though his hands are white-knuckled around the edge of the table to stop himself from bolting from the mortification.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“What?” he asks perplexed, forgetting momentarily a crucial reason as to why the compliment would seem absurd coming from him. “Oh dear Merlin, no, no that’s not how I meant it all.”

“Very funny, Ominis,” she takes in a sharp breath, dropping the brush with a dull clatter into the cauldron before she crosses her arms and faces him, all timidness suddenly replaced by a glaring frustration in her tone. Ominis isn't sure if it's an improvement, but at least she’s talking to him. “Did Sebastian put you up to this?”

“Sebastian? What? Of course not,” he sputters, desperately trying to amend. “I— Look, I’m—I’m sorry. Can I start over? Please?”

She raises an expectant eyebrow.

“You don’t look nice,” he tries, trying to suppress the wince that washes over his features. His only consolance is that Sebastian isn’t here to witness any of it. “I’m sorry, no—that’s not—I meant, I’m sure you do look nice, not that I would…know, but,” he runs a hand over his face, certain that if she didn't hate him before, she certainly does now. “I meant, you smell very nice. That I can tell, you…you smell very lovely, actually.”

There’s a long pause where she simply stares at him before her frustration inevitably only seems to double. “Is this what you find entertaining?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re taunting me,” she seethes. “You obviously know what I feel for you and now you’re making fun of me for it, aren’t you? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“What? Salazar, no, that’s not it at all—”

“Truly hilarious,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “Very mature. Maybe try being more subtle—”

“That’s not what I’m—”

“You can stop pretending you want to hang out with me all the time now—”

“Will you listen? I’m not—”

“Next time, if you don’t feel the same way, then simply—hmpph!”

Despite the blaring alarm bells that should be going off in Ominis’ head for doing something so painfully impulsive to someone who could hex his entire bloodline in the time it takes her to take out her wand, his mind blanks out into a puddle of warmth as he crashes his lips to hers.

She freezes, mouth unmoving against his in the time it takes awareness to seep into her brain and for her to realize he’s kissing her.

To his relief, when the realization does set in, she kisses him back.

She seems to melt just as much as Ominis, her body instinctively leaning into his, hands going slack at her sides before they instinctively come to hold at his forearms where he’s cradling her face so she can’t pull away.

Ominis pulls him towards her, and then, urged on by some coiling heat inside of him he’s admittedly not too familiar with, he crowds her against the workspace. He nearly topples over several cauldrons in his franticness to deepen the kiss, muttering sheepish apologies through heavy breaths, but he’s far too consumed to feel embarrassed.

His lips on hers are clumsy and impatient, and maybe far too hungry for a first kiss, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her hands come up to thread through his hair, to drag down his scalp, and Ominis couldn’t stop the groan that leaves him if he had all the composure in the world.

He’s so far gone he doesn’t even care about all the soot they’re getting on each other, too preoccupied with trying to keep his knees from buckling, to press his body even more against hers as if it’s the greatest offense known to history that they’re not physically molded to one another. When he slots a thigh between her legs and she lets out a little noise against his mouth, he thinks he might just collapse.

Ominis skin feels hot to the touch, nerves prickling with want, with the urge to touch and taste and grind until he goes numb. She finally breaks the kiss, panting heavily against his mouth, eyes glazed over with just as much raw need. Though the loss is almost physically painful, Ominis is grateful for small mercies, because he was a few seconds away from tearing through her uniform top.

“You’re…” she swallows, trying to clear the breathlessness from her voice. “Uh, very committed to the bit, I suppose.”

Ominis can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

His shoulders shake, forehead dropping to meet hers, and when he glances back up he smiles, lips still raw and undoubtedly kiss-bruised. She returns his grin, until he can feel her smile against his mouth when he leans down to press his lips to hers again, because he simply can’t help himself.

They barely register the sound of the door to the professor’s office swinging open. Only when he clears his throat do they finally tear apart, and Ominis wonders if it’s possible to drop dead from sheer mortification.

Sharp lets out a long-suffering sigh, as if he’s accustomed to walking in on much, much worse by now and his hardly fazed.

“Just get the cauldrons clean,” he grumbles, grabbing a few texts on one of the adjacent tables. He hobbles back to the door, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “Bloody teenagers and hormones, don’t get paid enough for this shit…”

He ducks his head out before closing the door, pointing a stern finger in their direction. “And not on my tables.”

[mulletpermsicantlookaway]

The Jockification of Jeremy, Part 3: Chase Makes His Choice

(For Parts 1 and 2 and the earlier stories this is a sequel to, see the earlier posts.)

I ended up not seeing Chase for nearly two weeks. I had sent him one or two texts. He hadn’t answered them, but he’d read them. I finally sent: “Bro, we need to talk”, and he replied: “I can’t hear you when you speak jockinese”. That made me mad, as I’m sure he wanted, but I realized that he was just lashing out. I felt bad for him, but I still couldn’t make up my mind what to do. I could just give him the Cup and wait for him to start to turn, but I kept remembering Coach Sanders saying that I might not need it. What had he been trying to tell me? I tried to think it through: I hadn’t needed the Cup for myself. Why? Because I had made out with James and Steve, apparently. So, was he telling me that Chase might start to turn into a jock if we made out? Maybe that was what he meant, but the chances of that seemed slim, since Chase wouldn’t even look at me now. And then I suddenly realized that I was overthinking it; the problem was really very simple: was Chase in love with me or not? If he was, then he’d still be in love with me – even though I’d become a jock. And if he wasn’t, then our friendship was over, because the two of us had nothing in common anymore. So I had to find out whether he loved me. And that meant I would have to see him again, whether he wanted to see me or not.

I had thought about asking one of the bros to help. Derek, for example, could easily have just picked Chase up and carried him to me. But that was a stupid idea. Even if it worked, it would just make Chase mad. And this was my problem, not my bros’ problem. If anyone was going to pick Chase up and carry him around, I would be the one to do it; I was getting big enough.

I put everything into one last effort to persuade Chase to see me. I sent him this: “Plz. Gotta talk 2 u just 1nce more. And then will leave u alone if that’s what u want. Plz I need u.”

He replied: “I nu I shd hve blocked u. OK. Will meet. Where?”

“My place.”

My parents were happy to see Chase again, because they hadn’t seen him now for weeks and were wondering why we weren’t friends anymore. I don’t know if they noticed how uncomfortable he looked, but he didn’t linger downstairs. We went right up to my room.

“Okay, Jeremy, what’s the big emergency? What do you need me for? Because I’m not doing homework for you or any other dumb jock, just so you know that.”

“I didn’t ask you here to do my homework, bro, I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, but how well, bro? What’d you get on that last history assignment? A C?”

“A B Minus, actually. I know it wasn’t my best, but I had a basketball game and a wrestling match that week. Anyway, I’m getting my grades back up. I have to anyway. Anything lower than a C-, I get kicked off the team.”

“And that would be a tragedy, that would. What the hell happened to you, Jeremy? Why are you acting like this? I can’t stand jocks. I really can’t. I can’t even look at you. And it smells like a locker room in here. Do you ever wash your jockstraps?”

“Yeah, I do, but I’m a big boy now, and big boys sweat. It’s not a crime, bro.”

“Maybe not, but the stink in here is. Yeah, you’re a big boy all right, Jeremy. I’ll grant you that. You’re about a foot taller than I am now, and judging from how you look in the tank tops and shorts you wear even this time of year, you’ve been packing on the muscle. And the body hair, too.  Geez. Look at you. I guess you’ve turned into your own wet dream, eh, Jeremy? You always did have a thing for jocks. But I still can’t figure out how you turned into one.  Did those neanderthals kidnap you, brainwash you, and pump you full of steroids?”

“I don’t take steroids, bro. Steroids shrink your balls. I think even you know that.”

“Okay, I’ll concede on that point. Even from here, I can tell you don’t have shrunken balls, unless you’ve been stuffing rocks in your jockstrap. Geez, Jeremy, how do walk around with those? And what the eff happened to your dick? It wasn’t like that before.”

“There, bro, you can manage to look at me when you want to. Glad you’re impressed, but I didn’t ask you over here to discuss my package.”

“Then what did you ask me here for, Jeremy? If it wasn’t for me to do your homework or admire the size of your balls, then what did you want from me?”

“This,” I said, pulling him to me and kissing him.

He struggled a bit at first, but I held him firmly, and pretty soon he was giving back as much as he was getting. His tongue pushed hungrily into my mouth. A minute later, though, he pulled away. “Damn it, Jeremy,” he said. “Did you have to do that? You’re big, you’re dumb, and you stink. I can’t. I just can’t.”

I put my hand on his rigid cock, which was tenting his pants, and said, “This is telling a different story, isn’t it Chase? You want to know why I asked you over? To tell you that I love you. I think I always loved you. I missed you so much. And I’m pretty sure you love me, too. Am I right?”

“Damn you,” Chase said, starting to kiss me again. He didn’t come up for air for a couple more minutes. “Fuck. I hate this. You want me to say it, don’t you? Yes, I love you. There. I said it. I think I’ve always loved you. Damn it.”

“But bro, I’m big and dumb, and I stink.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Chase. “And I still love you, you big, hot lunkhead. Although I’m starting to wonder how dumb you really are. You seem to know how to push all of my buttons. Now shut up and let’s get back to work. And stop calling me ‘Bro’!”

We got back to work. For such a little dude with zero experience that I knew of, he gave me a thorough workout. Once he finally got to it, I mean, he just went nuts. It was as if I’d broken some kind of barrier down inside him, and now that it was gone, he couldn’t get enough of me. I couldn’t believe little Chase could be such an animal. When we finally finished, we were both sweating heavily. Chase said, “I’m sorry. I had to do that or I was going to go crazy.”

“You did go crazy, bro. And nothing to be sorry for. I had a great time.”

“I did, too. Damn it. Why, Jeremy? I don’t like jocks.”

“Could’ve fooled me, bro”.

“Yeah, I know. I guess I like this jock. I love you, Jeremy. You were right about that. Well, we’ve certainly had a night. Now are you going to send me packing? Don’t you have a freshman to stuff into a locker or something, or a game to play?”

“Chase, dude, I love you like crazy, but you really need to get over your hate, okay? I’ve changed. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but you need to be okay with that.”

“I know, Jeremy. I’ve just really been having trouble dealing with you as a jock. I thought I’d lost you forever, and it made me mean. I’m sorry. I know whatever changes you’ve been going through, it’s not your fault, and I haven’t been a good friend to you lately. But it’s hard for me to get used to. You really do smell like jock, you know, and now I’ve got that smell all over me. I feel a little queasy now, honestly.”

“I’m sorry about the jock smell, bro, honestly, I am, but I think you’re going to have to just live with it. I shower, like, every day. Sometimes more than once.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too. You’re right; I’ll just have to get used to it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s not so bad. Anyway, if that’s what I have to put up with, I’ll have to put up with it.”

“Bro, you’re sure you’re okay? Your voice is getting kind of hoarse.”

“Still a bit dizzy or whatever, but I feel fine otherwise,” he said, his voice cracking. “My throat’s just a little scratchy.”

I smiled, thinking Chase probably wouldn’t be needing that cup after all. “Bro,” I continued, “I know you’re not exactly interested in going out for a sport right now, but I just wanted to let you know that you owe Coach Sanders a huge favor.”

“Not sure I follow you, Jeremy. Why do I owe Coach Sanders a favor?”

“Because he was the one who told me not to give up on our friendship. Bro, I was so, like, sad that you weren’t talking to me that I went to ask his advice. And he was super nice and super helpful about it, and he made so much sense. And he told me pretty much what you said, bro, about you having trouble dealing with it that I had changed so much so fast. And I asked him to talk to you, and he said he would if I wanted, but that I shouldn’t, you know, underrate our friendship, and I could talk to you better than he could. And he was right.”

“Yeah,” agreed Chase. “He was right. I guess I do owe him a favor, then.”

“Yeah, bro,” I said, kissing Chase again lightly. “Anyway, it’d be great for you to talk to him sometime. He’s a great guy.”

“I’m sure he is, Jeremy. And maybe, maybe, if you value his opinion so much, I can persuade him to get you down to using ‘Bro’ every other sentence.” I pantomimed punching him in the arm and he laughed. “Sorry, Jeremy, but I couldn’t resist that one. It’s okay. But yeah, I’ll talk to him sometime, if it means that much to you.”

“It’s good to hear you laugh again, bro. I’ve missed that.” Then I kissed him again, and we got down to business for another round.

Chase ended up spending the night. It was pure ecstasy for us, because neither of us wanted to be away from the other. But the next morning, we had school, and the alarm was a rude awakening from our blissful night.

Chase said he felt great in the morning, but his voice was so hoarse he could barely talk above a whisper: “Jeremy,” Chase croaked, “I’m going to stink so bad at school. You think I have time for a shower?”

I kissed him again and said, “Don’t shower yet, babe. Please. You smell like me, and I want every guy at school to know you’re mine.”

Chase laughed, “Okay, Jeremy. I guess you marked me as your mate. Just for you, because I love you, I won’t shower until I get home tonight. Anything else you want?”

“Just one more thing, you ever worn a jock, babe? No, of course you haven’t. Here’s one of mine. I want you to wear it to school today.”

“Geez, Jeremy, I mean, that’s sweet, and a little gross, but how is one of your jockstraps going to fit me? It’ll be all stretched out from your monster cock and balls.”

“You’ll see,” I said. “Let me get it on you. You’d be surprised how well these things recover from being stretched out. If it won’t stay on you by itself right now, you just put a pair of briefs over it. Wait, I think I still have a few of my old ones that don’t fit me anymore.” So I positioned one of my used jockstraps over his package and then put a pair of my old briefs over it, and once I got in place, I said, “Now you’ll be able to feel that you’re mine all day long.”

“Ooh, that feels strange. Really strange. But it’s kind of nice. It makes me feel warm and tingly, all over. But I guess I’d better get dressed now.”

Chase kissed me again, and then he started pulling on his pants and shirt from last night. “That’s funny, Jeremy,” he whispered. “My pants are little tight.”

“Well, you’ve got a little extra material there now, bro. I’m sure your pants will stretch out a bit once you’ve had them on for a bit.”

We went to school together, but we didn’t have any classes together until after lunch, so I didn’t see him again until lunchtime. We ate lunch together. Chase was feeling fine, he said, but he was really hungry, and he got seconds, which he never did normally. He was clearing his throat a lot, and when he talked, his voice alternated between sounding hoarse and cracking. To me, his Adam’s apple already looked a little more prominent, but it could have been my imagination. He looked a little sweaty, too, but I said nothing about it.

“Jeremy,” he said, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying to get used to the jock smell, I really am, but I feel stinky and sweaty, and I’m really looking forward to a shower.”

“It’s okay, little bro. I just wanted to be sure you and everyone else knew you were mine.”

“Very cute, Jeremy. But I keep thinking your jock friends are staring at me.”

Chase had a point; some of them did seem to be staring, particularly James and Steve, who looked over several times.

“Don’t worry about my bros, babe,” I said. “No one’s going to mess with you now that you’re my boyfriend.”

But I was curious as to what James and Steve were talking about; they were clearly having a couple chat that no one else was in on.

After school, I had basketball practice. Before practice, I swung by Coach Sanders’s office to return the cup and thank him again. He was at his desk. I closed the door and said, “Coach, I wanted to thank you so much for helping me with Chase. I ended up not needing this, so I wanted to get it back to you.” I handed him the cup.

He said nothing until he had carefully put the cup back into the same file drawer he’d retrieved it from originally, and then he said, “So, big guy, how’d things go?”

“Awesomely. You were right about trusting our friendship, Coach. I think I’d been in love with him for a long time, and I told him so, and it turned out he was in love with me, too. Now we’re officially boyfriends, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“Love’s a powerful thing, Jeremy. I’m glad for you. So, Chase is dealing with your changes better now?”

“Definitely, Coach. And, if I’m right, he’ll probably be ready to talk to you about joining up in a week or two.”

The coach chuckled. “Big guy, if you were smiling any harder, I think your face would split. Okay, Jeremy, I can read between the lines. We’ll keep an eye on Chase and make sure he turns out all right.”

“Thanks, Coach. I owe you a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Jeremy. I owe you a lot, too.”

I didn’t see Chase again that night, but we texted. Other than his voice, he was feeling fine. The next morning at school, James lumbered up behind me, reached up, and clasped a meaty hand on my shoulder: “Sup, bro. Why don’t we take a walk to my office. It’s time for another counseling session.” He had one of those one-eyebrow-raised jock smirks on his face, so it was hard to tell if he was amused or irritated. I followed him to the most out-of-the way men’s room in the school. No one was inside.

“Haven’t been in here for a while. Brings back memories – sort of.” I looked at him, puzzled, and he sighed. “Never mind. It’s just that this place has seen a few interesting scenes in my life, bro, but that’s another story. If these walls could talk! I’m just glad I didn’t have to kick any nerds out of here this time. We need a little privacy.”

“What’s up, James? Why’d you bring me here? I’m confused.”

“You do seem to have that problem sometimes, bro. Were you a little dense before you changed, or did you lose a few IQ points in the process?  Anyway, the last time you and I talked, we were talking about your future. But you’re not a little bro anymore, not at all. You’ve turned out fine. No, it’s not your future I’m worried about. Steve-o and I noticed your little friend at lunch. What’s his name? Chase? So, what’s going on with your little friend, Chase, bro?”

“Something wrong with him, bro?” I asked, as innocently as I could.

“You do like to push your luck, don’t you? I’m still a lot bigger than you are. And, unlike some of our bros, I’m not stupid, and neither is Steve. I’m starting to suspect you’re not as dumb as you come off, either.”

“Your point, dude?”

“I’m getting there,” James continued with a glare. “Patience is a virtue, bro. I don’t know what all you know or may have heard about Steve and me and some of the stuff that used to go on around here. Let me just tell you that I have plenty of experience seeing nerds and geeks turn into jocks. I can recognize the signs sooner than most. Don’t hold out on me, bro. I’m not asking because I’m nosy. There might be more involved than you know about. So, give. What happened to Chase? Why is he starting to turn?”

“He’s my boyfriend, bro. That’s what happened. He and I had been in love since, like, forever, but he was having trouble with me being a jock. Anyway, we reconciled the night before last.”

James’s smirk deepened. “Oh, that’ll be fun. Too much fun. That is fucking awesome! I’ve got to say, bro, I suspected something like that. Look, it really wouldn’t be any of my business, except that I want to make sure your little bro Chase is okay. Protocol is, as you know, that we only hang around with other bros, so you and Chase were attracting some attention. You don’t need to give me a play-by-play, but he already looks like he’s turning fast. You did that just by making out with him?”

“Well, yeah, bro. I mean, we did it – a lot – that first night. And I did talk him into wearing one of my jockstraps. I think it helps. I, uh, wore that one of yours for over a week, I think.”

“Kind of hard to remember stuff from before, isn’t it bro?” said James softly. “It was Steve’s, by the way, not that it really matters. We knew it was Steve you really wanted to make out with. I don’t blame you; he is incredibly hot, after all. Look, bro, I know it doesn’t matter now, but you have to realize that we had no idea that making out with us was going to make you turn. We just wanted you to have some fun – and leave us alone.”

“Bro, seriously, it’s okay. I’m super happy with my life. I mean, I know I used to be different, but now I can’t really remember what I was like before. I mean, I remember my life and all the facts and all that, but I can’t remember what it felt like, you know?”

“Yeah, I do know, actually,” James said, almost in a whisper. “Your old life is like a dream you barely remember, and every day it fades a bit more, because you were always like this, and that dream, bro, it never happened.”

“Yeah, it’s exactly like that,” I said, excitedly. But James sighed; he was looking away from me toward his reflection in the mirror. His smirk was gone, and his face was utterly blank. I was a bit disconcerted, but I continued, “And Chase, well, I didn’t know what would happen, but I figured that, since we loved each other so much, it would turn out okay no matter what. But dude, we made out so many times that night, and by morning, I could already tell he was starting to change. So I figured, okay then, we’ll just be another hot jock couple like you and Steve.”

“Yeah, I suppose you will be at that, bro,” James said, his customary smirk pointed at me again. “Other people will start noticing soon. You’ll want to keep a close eye on him for now. And talk to one of the coaches, probably Sanders, the basketball coach. He was the one Derek talked to about you. Sanders was around when all this stuff started going on, and he must know something. I’ll bet Halvorson, the wrestling coach, does, too.  The football coach, you know, the new one, don’t go to him. He’s a great coach and all, but he doesn’t know anything about this kind of, um, special case.”

“All taken care of, bro. I had already talked to Coach Sanders about Chase, and I talked to him again yesterday before practice. He was the one who encouraged me to reconcile with Chase in the first place, and I’m glad I did.”

“Interesting, bro, very interesting. He actually encouraged you to reconcile with Chase? I’m surprised. Pleasantly, but surprised. I don’t know Coach Sanders, really. I’m not on the basketball team, and I’ve never really talked to him, but I’m glad he isn’t a homophobe. That was one of the problems with the old football coach. So, I’m assuming Coach Sanders must have some or all of the old football coach’s videos.”

“Yeah, bro, I watched one of those, and he said he had some of the old coach’s stuff, just not all of it. I asked him if the video would help Chase, and he told me it would, but I might need something special to help as well. But I ended up not needing it, so I gave it back to him.”

“Whoa, dude,” said James. “What the fuck! You don’t mean he actually still has…”  James leaned right into my face and whispered so softly I almost couldn’t hear him. “Does Sanders actually still have a cup? Is that what he gave you?”

“Yeah, bro, that’s what he gave me,” I whispered back.

I’d almost never seen James look anything but cocky, but whatever was going through his head had wiped the usual smirk off his face again. His eyes were as round as basketballs. “No shit,” he finally said, quietly. “Steve-o and I thought they were all long gone, along with the old football coach. And Sanders still has one?”

“Bro,” I whispered. “I know he told me not to talk about this at all, but I think he said they had very few left, so doesn’t that mean there must be more than one?”

“Holy shit,” said James. “Okay, bro, do not, I repeat, do not, say a word about any of this to anyone. Absolutely not. And don’t let on to Coach Sanders that you told me. The less you know about those things the better. Bro, I am so glad you didn’t have to use one of those on Chase. What you two did was a lot more fun, for you and for him, and if all goes well, little Chase will never know what hit him.” He paused. “We’re done with our discussion, bro, but, just out of curiosity, do you remember any of the video Coach Sanders had you watch?”

“Well, I remember that it was really good, and I enjoyed it, but no, I don’t honestly remember what it was about. Why?”

“Professional curiosity. I’m studying biology, not that I exactly bring that up at practice with the bros. But I’m curious about the process – if you follow me. I think, bro, that it’s not just one video that you watched. I think there’s more than one, and I’m not sure if we all see the same ones or not. But that’s just a feeling I have. I have zero evidence, and I can’t remember any more of the video than you do. I’ll be curious to find out if Chase remembers anything when his turn comes. Speaking of coming,” he said with a chuckle, “Make sure you get him to come as soon as you can, you know, after he’s done. It’ll help him finish adjusting. He’ll probably be super horny anyway, but it he’s not, get him horny, okay, bro?”

“Okay, bro,” I said with a grin. “That’ll be a pleasure. But what’s so bad about those cups, anyway?”

“Look, bro, forget about the cups. Just be very, very glad you never had to wear one. Trust me.” And with that he left.

To be continued

[pigeonp0st]

Wow, I just finished reading your most recent piece with Kara and it was really well done. You mentioned the idea of immortality in that and wondered how that could be used in a different piece perhaps. Kara (Plus Alex and the others) possibly finding out that reader is immortal and has been for a long time. (As a sort of headconnon or what not. I’d presume reader would be running a personally owned company, as big if not bigger than L-Corp. What with having a long time to amass wealth)

Kara Danvers X Reader

Summary:

Reader reveals she’s immortal to the super friends. Kara comforts her.

warnings:

Angst

Notes:

Thanks for the request! Sorry for taking so long. It being shorter is the sacrifice I’ve made to return to writing, but I hope you enjoy anyways!

——

It’s game night that the super friends find out about my immortality.

It comes out when Lena says she’s been looking into my company, wanting to buy it. She mentions curiously that it says I’m the founder, when it’s well known my company has been around for nearly a hundred years.

And, well…It comes out then, because you’ve stopped being secretive about it when it stopped being something you had to be secretive about…

They know now— of my immortality, and though I should feel relief at the being known, of the truth I’ve not done much to hide revealing itself, all I feel is discontent. Discontent and unsatisfied, unsatisfied because the agony and empathy in their eyes is lackluster. They know now, and even as they try to understand they’re incapable of it.

I am immortal, and yet I have lived a thousand lives in my one everlasting one. There’s so much devastation in every end when you’ve had countless of new beginnings. I do best in the in between where l don’t have to face either beginning or end. It’s in the start of something new that every fiber of my being screams for stop.

Getting used to something doesn’t mean it gets easier, in the same way grief often works. I am constantly grieving my lives, and it’s become a heavy burden they could never understand.

It hurts in a way I hadn’t accounted for. With the coming of Superman, the rise of aliens, the new acceptance of them—there’s a rise of difference, and in that alternative community. It makes you feel better, this new life. It’s given you more hope of being understood than ever before, but to be faced with your friend’s sympathetic eyes, it all feels lackluster.

Even more so when Winn makes a nerdy comment about wanting to know the truth about history. Everyone laughs, laughs and leaves me alone in the same instant.

I laugh along, searching for connection and finding none. Disappointment was the backside of the renewed hope this life has given me. I felt intensely that there was no point in explaining any of anything that had ever happened for me. To reject them that would allow me the dignity of being not understood on my own terms.

It is better to be alone by yourself, than to be alone surrounded by people after all.

Karas eyes meet mine. She’s sitting by Alex and Lena’s feet. Her and Lena the only ones not laughing, trying to lighten the mood. Lena gives me an apologetic smile, on behalf of the others. There’s connection there.

Kara…Kara just goes distant. Goes distant then, and then goes distant the rest of the game night. It’s when everyones leaving and she stops me, I understand, or accept really; it was because of me. What I said.

I’d been hoping I wouldn’t have to speak on it ever again, regret like acid still in my stomach.

“You…” Kara pauses, searches my eyes—for what, I don’t know. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She must sense the way this kills me from the way I wince, because she pulls me into a hug. A hug full of emotion. It shatters me in a way, because it feels like permission. Permission to fall apart.

I can’t, I’ve learned. Know now that if I start, I’ll never stop. All I can do is use logic as avoidance from my heart, and move forward with something resembling acceptance.

I pull away.

“Superman, you, all the aliens, the Meta-Humans, all of you have stretched the definition of what we call ‘humanity’, what we call ‘heart’, and yet still I feel like it escapes me.” It aches as I admit it—feels like a terrible, stupid thing.

Stupid because I have lived so long and yet still, here I am, so agonizingly affected. There are things I know, things I’ve learned, and they all mean nothing.

Kara shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed. She rejects it all. “That very thing inside of that feels different, alone in your experience, that is the very thing that actually connects you to humanity,” Kara says, her eyes soft and understanding.

Understanding in this, in this that she can understand. My heart quickens, I watch Kara, think of hope. Think of her.

Kara who has lost her whole world, her whole culture, who has taken her past and her aloneness and had become a hero, instead of something much darker. “Is there anyone like you, Kara?” I ask. It’s perhaps the question that has tormented her, the way it torments me— “is there anyone like me?”— but I say it like a gift. With reverence.

She is different, inexplicably so. It’s the best thing about her. Kara smiles shyly, looks down, fixes her glasses. “There’s you,” she whispers, “with an aloneness not anyone in this world could understand.”

There’s something about her saying it as it is that settles something inside of you.

“To feel so alone, and have it be the very thing that connects me, and in actuality makes me not alone,” l muse, somehow impressed. There’s not a life that has taught me more than the one with Kara.

There’s a gratitude inside me larger than all the life I’ve lived.

Kara grins, she pulls me in again. Hugs me tight. “I’m sorry about Alex asking to recruit you,” she whispers after a while. I let her words be the thing that has me pulling away, despite Kara’s pout at it.

I smile hesitantly, waving away Kara’s apology. “When Superman showed up it had me thinking about it, but my immortality has been taken advantage of before, and not being able to die isn’t as strong of a power as you might think,” I admit, “I’m not as strong as you’d think.”

Kara gives me a disbelieving look. My defensiveness looks like guilt to her, I know. It is. It’s guilt and fear. I’d want nothing more than to make this forever mean something, but I’m plagued by all of its consequences.

She lets me get away with the things left unsaid, thankfully. In my gratefulness I decide not to ask about her own prolonged life, despite my ongoing curiosity.

I know it’s a sensitive topic. There’s almost all of me that hurts for her, and then there’s a small part of me that thinks; I can live with her longer.

Supergirl, Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-el; my love.

I cough, adjust my bag over my shoulder, and step away. I know I have to before I kiss her in the dim lighting of her apartment, in the body that gets the honor to live alongside her. “See you tomorrow, Supergirl?”

Kara nods, eyes dark. She bites her lip, looks away with a flush. “Yep. One hundred percent. Lunch, right? Right. Yeah. I’ll be there,” Kara confirms, turning an even darker red at my responding eyebrow raise.

“Yeah,” I say, amused. “I’ll be there too. Wouldn’t miss it for my life.”

Kara laughs. Fills your heart for lifetimes with it. You leave with the hope of tomorrow, and the sound of her laugh.

[jeonqkooks]

problems downstairs | jjk (m.)

pairing: jungkook x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, smut; oral sex (m. receiving), dirty talk, light fondling, cursing obvi, i think that's it? oh and UNEDITED AS FUCK

word count: 2.1k

note: i need to learn how to write smut again, it's been too long and i am so friggin' rusty i apologize for this fr 😳 anyway. defiling the tongue tied bitches !!

‘tongue tied’ masterpost ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

When Jungkook slips under your shirt to innocently rub circles into your bare skin, he realizes his fatal mistake.

You instantly guide his hand to your chest and use it to fondle one of your breasts, like you’ve been waiting for it this whole time. His brain almost short circuits at the feeling of your tit in his palm, braless, soft and supple and he can’t help but give it another squeeze.

You moan against his mouth and though the sound is muffled, it sends blood rushing straight to his dick – the one that’s growing harder with every swivel of your hips on top of him, with every vibration that your whimpers cause against his lips, and with every second passing by that he has his fingers on your bare chest.

“Wait!” Jungkook abruptly pulls away and grips your hips to stop you from grinding against him. “I just remembered something! Hobi asked me to, um, pick him up from the airport tomorrow.”

You stare at him, frustration immediately creeping up your spine. “And?”

“So you know...” He shrugs sheepishly, hands resuming their soothing rubbing on your body – through your shirt this time – as if he can sense your mood starting to turn sour. “I have to get up early.”

You look at him blankly, your lips pursed into a hard line like the deadpan emoji. “You’re so full of shit.”

“W–what?”

“Hobi told me he’s extending his trip for another two days.”

He freezes underneath you and visibly pales. His eyes widen comically like Bambi caught in headlights, lips parting and closing as he thinks of what to say after you just called him out on his lie. You’d be lying if you said this wasn’t kinda cute – you think nearly everything he does is cute, but it’s also highly annoying when you’re trying to be upset with him.

“Why would Hobi tell you–”

“Why does that matter?” you huff as you climb off him, plopping onto the cushions and frowning. “Okay, I gotta ask. Do you not want me or something?”

“What? I– Why would you say that?”

It’s not like you’re forcing him to want to sleep with you; it’s only been a few weeks after all. Maybe he’s the kind of person that doesn’t take sex lightly.

No, that can’t be it. You’ve heard his one-off conquests through the walls before.

But even prior to your official first date, whenever you used to make out as a couple of neighbors who enjoyed each other’s company, he never made you feel like you weren’t wanted. Well, physically anyway.

Lately, you’ve been confused as hell by his behavior. He’d still be eager to make out with you, but the second that you hint at wanting to take it a step further, he’d come up with a dumbass excuse to get out of it. You aren’t exactly desperate for some action, but you also kinda are. It’s been a while and Jungkook has been making you very frustrated, sexually and otherwise.

Just like tonight, he was quick to shut it down when things became heated though you were certain you didn’t imagine feeling his hard-on. The boner is right there. His sweatpants aren’t doing a great job at hiding anything.

“Every time it looks like we’re about to actually do something, you find a way to dip.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you silently grimace in embarrassment. “If you don’t want to have sex with me, you can just say it.”

He jumps immediately, his brows furrowing at your words. “No, no! That’s definitely not it. I– Fuck. Fuck… I can’t tell you this.”

You huff out a breath, because this is not reassuring at all. When you make a move to stand up, he pulls you back down by your wrist with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset. I want you, of course I want you. I’m sorry if I haven’t made it clear enough,” Jungkook says earnestly, tugging you closer and maneuvering until your legs are thrown over his lap.

Your embarrassment dissipates by a fraction. “Then why does it feel like you keep pushing me away?” you ask. The conversation is happening anyway. You might as well get to the bottom of it.

But then a thought pops into your mind and you have to gasp.

Is it…? Could it be?

No.

But maybe…?

“Do you have… problems?”

Jungkook frowns, looking you over. “What problems?”

“You know…” You glance at his crotch before your eyes flit up to his face. “Problems… downstairs. The kind that needs, uh,  medical assistance.”

He tilts his head, the furrow between his brows deepening. You watch the cogs in his mind turn until they click into place. The flabbergasted look on his face when he realizes what you’re talking about prompts an unintentional cackle from you. It almost makes you forget the whole conversation at hand.

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Jungkook screeches and shudders in embarrassment, darling Bambi eyes blown out of proportion again. “I do not have any issue in that department!”

It takes a minute for you to stop laughing, especially since his face has turned so red, you could probably see steam rising from the top of his head.

I certainly wouldn’t know that, you think but don’t say it out loud. Instead, you ask him, “Then why?”

He looks at you and fumbles with his fingers, then scratches his neck, clears his throat a few times and so on, all things he does when he’s nervous. 

“If we have sex,” Jungkook starts slowly, shying his face away to preserve what little dignity he has left, “I like you so much I feel like I’m gonna bust a nut ten seconds in and you’ll think I’m a dweeb.”

It’s silent for a moment. He thinks you might’ve not heard him because there’s no way you would stay quiet after that confession. When he slowly turns around and your eyes meet, you start laughing again. Way to humble him.

“Jungkook.” You clutch his arm as you fall forward to rest on his shoulder, your body shaking with giggles as tears fill your eyes. Oh good, it’s so funny that you’re actually crying now.

“I knew this was gonna happen,” Jungkook mutters to himself but you catch it. You don’t mean to laugh at him, not really, but he’s just so goddamn cute sitting there with his pouty lips and reddened cheeks, admitting that the reason he’s been cockblocking you is because he’s too excited. This is definitely a first for you.

“Jungkook,” you say again with a smile once you’ve regained your breath, “You keep forgetting that I like you too. We’re literally dating! I don’t care if you don’t last long the first time.”

He glances at you. “Really?”

“Yes, dweebus,” you say with a teasing smile. “As long as you don’t make it a habit. I mean… we could probably get that first load out of the way right now.”

“What?”

“Well…” You gesture to the bulge in his sweats. “He looks like he wants some attention.”

Jungkook shakes his head a little, like a cartoon bunny, as if to reorient himself. God, he’s acting like this is the first time he’s getting a blowjob. “Now? Right here? On the couch?”

You bite your lip, placing a hand on his thigh. “Why not?”

Despite the embarrassment and the way he feels like a teenage boy again, his dick grows even harder at the look on your face. With your bottom lip between your teeth and your eyes gazing into his, he’s surprised that he hasn’t busted a nut yet.

“Fuck, okay,” Jungkook says. You peck his lips, getting up from the couch only to kneel down on his carpet, positioning yourself between his legs while you wait for his next move.

He lets out a nervous breath as he shimmies his sweatpants and boxers down to free his length and fuck, his cock is a glorious sight, and it definitely isn’t because you haven’t seen one in a while.

You take him in your hand, pumping slowly as he groans and throws his head back. “If I cum in two seconds, you’ve been warned,” he tells you.

You chuckle with a roll of your eyes. “Okay.”

You lick a fat stripe up the entire length of him and when you reach his tip, you give it a little kiss. “You have such a pretty cock, bun,” you purr, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Fucking hell…” Jungkook sighs breathlessly when you start taking him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around his tip and your tongue swiping across it to lap up his precum. There’s a faint sweetness to it that you didn’t expect, it tastes almost artificial – probably it’s because of how much sugar he consumes on a daily basis – and it makes you moan around him, the sound sending light vibrations through his dick and prompting more groans from the man.

As you continue to bob up and down his cock, taking as much of him as you can, your hand pumps the part that can’t fit in your mouth. You welcome the feeling of him stretching your lips and the pleasant taste of him on your tongue.

“You’re so fucking good…” His hand falls to your head and tangles in your hair, helping you glide over his length more smoothly but mostly he does it to keep from thrusting into your throat.

Your name escapes his mouth in a beautiful moan – deep and needy. You can feel yourself getting soaked already just by listening to bim. It’s exciting to say the least.

“Ah, ah, fuck–” Jungkook’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head when you hollow out your cheeks and begin to suck him faster. “I’ll cum if you keep going like that.”

Isn’t that the goal here? Silly bun.

His fingers tug on your scalp in a warning when you don’t seem to be stopping any time soon, warm mouth still moving in a relentless pace that turns his brain to mush. You only raise your hand to give him a thumbs up to encourage his orgasm.

Soon enough, he’s chanting your name like a broken mantra, face twisted in pleasure as he shoots his hot cum down your throat in thick ropes. It’s saltier now but still sweet, and still very much him – you could get used to this.

You continue your ministrations even after he’s finished blowing his load – only pulling away momentarily to swallow and grin at him but still pumping him in your fist, before diving back in to take his tip into your mouth again – and his hand has loosened its grip on your hair, heavy breaths slowly become more even and turn into soft whines from the sensitivity.

Before you pull away, you press one last kiss to the side of his dick. “Come here,” Jungkook beckons and you comply, an innocent smile on your lips as if you hadn’t just made him see stars with the force of his orgasm.

“Well, that was longer than I expected,” you chuckle.

“You’re a little minx, you know that?”

Your eyes crinkle and your tongue sticks out to tease him, prompting him to lean forward with a kiss to wipe that smug look off your face. When his tongue dips inside your mouth, he can taste himself faintly. Oddly enough, it makes his cock stir to life again. His arm around you trails down to your ass, where he gives you a squeeze, and slips under the waistband of your shorts to toy with your panties.

He’s a lot more brazen now, you note.

“Wanna return the favor,” Jungkook says, eyeing you with his darkened orbs. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and he looks so handsome, so much more relaxed and confident than before that you have to clench your thighs together to relieve some pressure.

You wouldn’t think that this is the same Jungkook who was tongue tied and twisted not even half an hour ago.

You brush your lips against his, but not yet kissing him again. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

Something switches in him.

Jungkook gives your ass a little pinch and stands, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, forcing a yelp out of you as you hold onto his back for support. When you see the muscles in his bare ass flexing with every step, you can’t help but reach down and give his cheeks a little squeeze, giggling as you do.

Oh, you have a feeling you’re in for a long night.

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 20.11.2022]

[hannarchive]

🎆 HANNArchive 1st Anniversary BTS Fic Recs 🎆

So today is this blogs’ 1 year aniversary 🥺 I actually just made this archive for myself to save the fics i like and might want to read again one day. I didn’t expect to get so many notes and followers just from my navigation post that I made cause i literally forget everything I’ve read immediately and i need the detailed tag-system lmao. Like, i can barely remember what i read yesterday. 🙃 But I’m happy other people are finding my blog useful as well. ✨

Anyway, so i thought i’d make a fic recs list. These are the same fics that’s in my 💖 tag, which is my personal favorites, but i thought i would make a list thats nicer than just going through the tag.

✰ Like real people do by @bangtanloverboys (3.6k) Tae x Y/N, friends/colleagues 2 lovers. Fluff, slight angst, soft smut. ⋆ This is such a comfort fic for me, I too am lonely and touch starved where’s my taehyung ):

✰ Hunt me down by @bonny-kookoo (series, ongoing) Alien!JK x Human!Reader. Fluff, angst, smut. ⋆ I just love her stuff, go read all her other alien fics while you’re at it - and all her other stuff too!

✰ Reconnect by bonny-kookoo (12.5k) Exes 2 lovers, Singlemom!Reader, Dad!JK, angst, smut.

✰ Ignorantly, yours by @ot7always (10.6k) Alpha!Jimin x Omega!Reader -Werewolf AU, Best friends 2 lovers. Smut, angst, fluff.

✰ Knot today by @kinktae (5.8k) alpha!JK x virgin omega!reader - Werewolf AU, roommates. Mostly smut, pwp, with som angst and fluff.

✰ Colours by @lovelytaes-blog (Series) Singledad!Tae x Artist!Y/N - Angst, fluff, smut.  

✰ (1.5k drabble +) sorry (not sorry) by @angelguk (8.1k) Roommate!JK x Y/N - Smut with sprinkles of fluff and angst.

✰ The Sadness of things by @lubdubsworld (Series) Alpha!JK x Omega!OC - Arranged Marriage AU. HEAVY angst, smut, fluff (Please check the trigger warnings) ⋆ Listen, this nearly killed me. I cried several times and even full on sobbed at one point. Broke my heart but it’s so good! 😭 Edit: Find all of the chapters here

✰ War of hearts by @btswrckd (Series) Mafia!Tae x Y/N - Arranged Marriage AU. Angst, fluff, smut. ⋆ I really love the characters in this - despite some dark themes it’s quite entertaining and endearing how everyone interacts with eachother.

✰ Strain by @evangelene (Series) Taehyung x Y/N - Hanahaki AU. Angst, fluff. 

✰ Summer nights and morning dew by @jeonstudios (11k) Alpha!JK x Y/N - Werewolf AU. Fluff, angst. ⋆ This is so cute!!! 

✰ Out of the woods by @angelicyoongie (Series) WolfHybrid!Joon x Y/N - Fluff, angst, smut. 

✰ Nude by @btssmutgalore (Series) Fuckboy!Tae x Y/N - Smut, fluff, angst.

✰ Summer Nights by @marginalmadness (Series) RabbitHybrid!JK x Y/N - Romance, fluff, smut. 

[st4rgzer]

NOW PLAYING…

↳ WELCOME TO NEW YORK (1980 TV) MATT STURNIOLO

genre: fluff, with a touch of angst

cw!: cursing, fem pronouns

summary: in which the reader is, half ready, to move to new york after booking her first major gig

a/n: this is the first track and i hope ill release one every weekend, maybe more, thank you for reading!

after 7 years, no, all my life working my ass off, going to every audition I can get my hands on, reading too many scripts a day, I finally got an audition.

And the best thing, it wasn’t because of the triplets! me being friends with them, and dating one, had made it incredibly difficult to make my own image, be my own person, even though I love them, I want people to know me for me, not know me as “matt’s girlfriend” or, “that girl that hangs out with the triplets”.

The only problem about getting a major gig, it’s in New York, and it’s going to be a pretty long time rolling, so I’d have to move there, at least for a year. That means leaving thee triplets at home. Leaving Matt home, and its not like NY is next to LA or Boston, 5 hours on plane. And it´s already difficult when they have leave for LA.

“babe, c’mon, just, come, spend the night here and in the morning we can drive you to the airport” Matt wined, pulling me towards him on the sofa, he had been trying to convince me not to leave early all day, and that they were closer to the airport so they could be the ones to take me there.

“well…maybe…” I sighed, the airport anxiety making me doubt wether or not to stay tonight, well, they are closer to the airport than me…fine, I sleep better with him anyways.

“yes! see i always win” he says lifting his arms up in victory, earning a laugh from me, he may be very persistent but it was sweet to see how he celebrated when he finally won.

He tugged me towards him and I laid my head on his chest, closing my eyes in a moment of peace before I had to worry about the move.

I nearly fell asleep when his hands started caressing my hair and detangling all the knots, slowly putting me in a trance, then I came to the realization that my bags were still in my house, and sighed, taking his hand away from my hair gently and sitting up.

“I just remembered my suitcase is still in my house, we have to go get it before anything” I kneaded my forehead and breathed deep, then I felt Matt’s hand on my back.

“relax ok, I can take us there in a minute, don’t worry about anything, the important things are already being shipped to your flat and the flight leaves at 10 am, enough time to sleep in a bit or have breakfast.” he said stroking my shoulder reassuringly, I grabbed his hand and placed it on mine, sighing as I backed myself against his chest once again, grateful I had an organized boyfriend opposed to the mess I was with this kind of stuff.

We pulled up to my driveway, I fiddled with the keys before finally opening the door. I went up to my room to get my big suitcase, them I realized a staircase and a big suitcase wasn’t a good match for me, I yelled Matt’s name but I saw him already going up the stairs, probably cause he knows me too well.

“thank you” I said with a sly smile. Grabbing the other end of the suitcase to at least help a bit, though he took all the weight.

We got into the car, the sun was setting and the weather was perfect for reminiscing and being nostalgic.

I laid my head against the damp car window , I started to think if this gig was going to be my big break. Even though I’ve wanted to be an actress since I was a young child, I never liked change, I despised it even.

This was going to be a big change, I had the last month to think about it and get used to the idea, but still, the thought of me and Matt breaking up because of long distance…

I felt a hand be placed on my knee, snapping me out of my thoughts, my mouth curved up into a slight smile, I placed his hand in mine, he rubbed small circles on my knuckles, and pulled it closer to him, placing a soft kiss to them.

“I’m so happy for you, do you know that?” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me with genuine joy. I tilted me head slightly and pursed my lips together.

“Do you think we’ll- survive the long distance…?” I looked down, guilt lingering in my voice, It was my fault I was moving to NY, I took the job, if the relationship went down the drain…I wouldn’t help to think it was my doing.

“What? That’s stupid, of course we will, Its not like you’re moving to a whole other country, phones exist, planes do as well” He insisted, tilting my head up to meet my line of view.

“trust me, okay? I’m a professional at the whole moving stuff…” He saw I was still unsure.

“baby I wouldn’t care if you moved to a whole other continent, I’d still book the flight every weekend to come see you” He said, gently moving a strand of hair out of my face, he wanted me to look at him, and I did. I half-smiled at him, feeling a bit more sure about the move thanks to his pep talk.

I realized I didn’t recognize where we were heading to, turning confused to Matt as he kept his eyes on the rode.

“Matt, where are we going? As far as I know, your house isn’t in a forest” I shook my head when he didn’t respond, scoffing as I laid back into the carseat.

As we parked in a rocky spot, he got out and went ‘round the car to open my door, what a gentlemen.

“What? are you gonna murder me out here or…?” I laughed as I got out of the vehicle, closing the door behind me. I was shut up as he placed a hand on my cheek, pulling me closer, and planting a sweet kiss onto my lips.

“oh?” I grinned, resting my hands over his shoulders, he grabbed one gently and led me in front of the car.

“ok, so, you know how I decorated my room all foresty?” He finally spoke, turning so he could make eye contact with me, I nodded.

“well, that’s cause the woods, mountains, they help calm me down, ease my anxiety and worries about things. After our first argument I came here, to clear my head. I come here a lot, and…I thought maybe it would help you a little? at least give you some peace of mind for while…”

He said, sweet words spewing from his mouth, I could’ve melted then and there. God, he was thoughtful. I smiled at him so widely, pecking his lips gently, I then peppered his cheeks and forehead with some more, he was right, this WAS giving me peace of mind. There was a slight fog surrounding the trees, and a soft breeze.

“thank you, Matt, this means a lot, like, really” I sighed as he opened his arms and held me, I closed my eyes at the smell of his cologne and the soft fabric of his plaid flannel.

“anything for you, lovely. I just wanted to give you a good afternoon to end with before the exhausting week that awaits you” He said kissing the top of my head and resting his chin there.

Hours passed. We were crossed legged, sat on the ground, watching the sky get darker and darker, contemplating as the stars slowly appeared.

My head was rested on his shoulder, his arm intertwined with mine, and his head laid back on the front of the car. It was simple and sweet, but better than anything I could’ve asked for.

It was silent, the comfort of our company being enough substitute for meaningless conversation. He sighed, contempt, we both knew the night was coming to an end, as I still wanted to get in at least 9 hours of sleep.

“do you think we should go now? its getting a bit late” he said stroking the palm of my hand.

“mhm, it is” I hummed, I gave him one more kiss before getting up and grabbing the makeshift blanket beneath us.

We drove to the car humming songs on the radio, his hands always resting either on my knee, my thigh, or my hand.

As the car pulled into the garage, Nick and Chris’s voices were heard, I think they were screaming something along the lines of “fucking finally”

We both looked at each other and sighed, holding in a laugh as he turned the doorknob, we were greeted with an angry blonde haired boy and a hyperactive Chris.

“where the fuck were you guys?! we wanted to do a going away movie party for tonight!” Nick yelled, he breathed and tried to calm himself, me and Matt were delighted watching the scene unfold.

“I took y/n somewhere.” he smirked slyly at him. Nick scoffed, he wasn’t too mad, after all, they were going to see me just next week.

After some more banter and such, Matt and I headed up to his room. He had his hand intertwined with mine and wasn’t dropping it anytime soon.

“m’lady” he said with a country accent, that always earned a chuckle out of me, opening the door for me, following behind. I sighed, letting myself fall onto the soft sheets of his bed.

He laid down next to me, as routine, I placed my head on his chest, he wrapped his arm languidly around my waist, pulling me close.

“im tired” I yawned and felt the vibrations from his chest as he laughed.

“of course you are, we’ve had a busy day, huh? He said kissing my hair softly, rubbing small shapes on the exposed skin of my waist.

I nodded, closing my eyes, sighing, I grew more tired every heartbeat of his I felt from his chest, the lullaby of his heart clearing my mind.

He felt I drifted off, he kissed the top of my head once again and whispered goodnight.

“I love you.”

“i love you too” I mumbled.

I recounted the previous moments in our day, everything from the starbucks he bought me when picking me up, to watching the sun set in his favorite place, with his favorite person.

Im scared of new beginnings, but New York can’t be so bad, right?

…

‘welcome to New York’ The big sign I was met with read, people were hustling and seemed like they had somewhere to go, I could here sirens blaring and people yelling “taxi!” I smiled. Everyone here wants something more. I guess I maybe could get used to this.

taglist: @dwntwn-strnlo @iha8you @lovelysturniolo @gabbylovesreading @hedgehogperalta @iloveneilperry @stvrni0lo @sturniolol @stvrniolo @sturniololoverr @oneirophobic (nicole idk if you wanna be added or not, tell me if you want me to take you off😭) @gaytoadwithapopsicle (same for you)

reblogs and likes are appreciated!

[written-in-flowers]

Hi, keep up the amazing work, I really love your hotd-posts! I really want to request something fluffy (and a lil angsty?) for Aegon, I just want to read about him being both miserable and happy.

So imagine rumors spreading across the castle after a servant walks into a noblewoman's chambers, only to find Aegon embraced and fast asleep on her chest. It is not exactly helping when Aegon later practically begs his mother to arrange for her hand in marriage. Everyone either assumes it is to protect her honor, although Aegon is not exactly known to respect the dignity of the many women he takes. Perhaps the lady gave the whore prince an unforgettable night unlike any other, what other reason could there be? Turns out nothing dishonorable happened. Aegon just stumbled in tipsy into her chambers, they drank together for a while and Aegon ended up drunkenly crying his heart out and falling asleep in her arms while she comforted him.

I feel like he is so deprived from love that just a crumble of care, love and nurturing is enough to have that man on his knees lol. Thank you so much again for your work and I hope the idea sounds OK <3

A/N: I used young!Aegon because I imagine him having been more vulnerable at that age, but nothing sexual happens anyways. Idk if this is gonna go how you expected, but here you go hun <3

***

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but...what?"

Nerves swirled around in your stomach as you sat before the queen. She stood a few feet from you in her gown of green and gold, a golden headband keeping back her tresses of brown curls. A regal queen. A graceful woman. A mother. You knew partly why she'd summoned you to her chambers so early in the morning. It'd been because of the young prince, Aegon.

"My son, the prince," she said more firmly, "He wishes to marry you instead of his sister. Why is that?"

You nearly told her 'You answered your own question, Your Grace,' but quickly held your tongue in. You'd done enough damage letting the boy climb into your bed. You wouldn't do yourself any favors insulting the royal family on top of that. Sighing, you answered:

"I suppose because he thinks himself in love with me."

Queen Alicent huffed, "And why would he? Did you give my incorrigible son a night he'd never forget?"

"In a sense, I suppose."

"Lady Y/N," she stepped forward, "If my son...If my son forced himself on you, you may tell me. Whatever transgressions or shame my son has brought onto you will stay within this room. Do not feel you have to hide anything."

"I am not, Your Grace," you nearly laughed. "Prince Aegon never touched me. I swear by all the gods, he did not."

"Then what happened?"

"Well...He'd come into my chambers after the welcoming feast. I saw him stumbling around and looking a bit lost. He...He fell onto my bed. I planned to go tell his guards, but nobody was there. But then..." you weren't sure if you should tell her. It'll be frankly, quite awkward, if you did.

"But then what?"

“He called me ‘Mother’.”

She appeared stunned by this. You continued, “I told him I wasn’t his mother, obviously, but that I’d have someone go get you so you may take care of him. Then he said...He said not to bother. He said that his mother didn’t love him anyways, and that wouldn’t care what happened to him anyways.”

It was quite sad. You’d stood there in your bed chamber, preparing for a night’s sleep, when your door opened. You thought it’d be your handmaiden with tea or one of your household, but no. It’d been the young prince who came sauntering into your chambers. Knowing his reputation, a pang of shock did hit you for a moment. You’d heard what he does to women and girls in his service, and you worried you might be next. Yet, instead the prince slumped down onto your bed. 

‘I can’t find my room in this damnable castle,’ he’d exclaimed. ‘May I stay here, Mother?’

‘My prince, you must leave. Your mother’s chambers are just down the hall-”

‘Ah, she doesn’t care anyways. She’ll just scold me for being drunk, tell me how I’m ruining the family image and reputation by carrying on how I do, and I don’t...I don’t want to hear it tonight.’

You pitied him. Perhaps the boy hoped to escape his princely duties in his cups instead of performing them. You’d seen how he was during Lady Laena’s funeral this morning: bored, indifferent and disinterested. Admittedly, you felt the same, but didn’t show it as blatantly. You’d only been invited because your family is one of the minor bannermen to House Velaryon; your family said it was expected. You hardly knew Lady Laena except in passing at gatherings, but you still paid your condolences and remained respectful. It was unbefitting a prince to get drunk at a gathering of a dead relative and make a fool of himself. It was even more unbefitting for him to be passing out on a lady’s bed in the middle of the night. 

‘I’m sure your mother cares deeply, my prince.’

‘I assure you, my lady, she does not. She’s made it clear on many occasions what a disappointment I am to her and my father. The man has had sixteen years to name me heir, and he never has. Why? Because, look at me. I’m...this...’ he gestured idly around, face half buried in your pillow. 

You’d gone over to him, making sure to keep your distance the entire time. He smell of strongwine and salty air. He didn’t even remove his cloak from his body when he laid down. You pushed strands of wavy blond hair from his face. It appeared quite unruly compared to the sleek blond locks of the rest of the Targaryen clan. 

‘Despite what she might say, your mother still loves you. A mother’s love is something that is unconditional. I’m sure she says those things not to hurt or criticize you, but you try helping you see the error of your ways. She is only helping you so you don’t fail in life; yes, there is the matter of your image and having to uphold your family’s reputation, but those are things that greatly impact a person’s life unfortunately.’

‘It’s all she cares about...because of Them...She’s never once asked me what I desire or care about. Nothing I’ve done has ever been enough for her. It never will be. I’m always doing something wrong in her eyes. No matter what it is.’ 

You’d spent most of the night listening to the prince’s personal problems; the sort of problems a sober person never says out loud. You weren’t sure what exactly to say other than comforting things. Your heart went out to him. You had your own insecurities and problems, which you felt comfortable airing out to him. Considering how he could barely stand without falling, you allowed him to stay in your room. You helped him out of his cloak and boots, gave him water, and let him lay in your arms. It felt nice having someone to hold, and warm your cold bed. Nothing truly transpired between either of you except long talks about parents, duties, insecurities, and uncertainty of life. He told you about his betrothal to his sister, whom he had nothing in common with and did not want to marry. You told him about the lordling your family has promised you to, who once ate butter thinking it was custard. It never occurred to you that you, an unwed woman, should not let Prince Aegon, an unwed man who is known to take what he pleases, be in your bed. 

That is, until the next morning when your maid found Prince Aegon passed out beside you. You’d stammered the story to her, but the damage was done. Aegon shuffled out of your room, clothes and hair still messy, talking about how he’d make her see reason. What he said to her, you’re not sure, but you knew now what claim he’d made. 

“He said this to you?” she asked, stunned and saddened. 

“I’m afraid so, Your Grace. He did not linger on the subject for long, though. He was drunk. I’m sure it was the strongwine talking.” 

You wouldn’t tell her what else he’d said. Those words were between you and Aegon. “My son told me something interesting, Lady Y/N.”

“Your Grace?”

“He bargained for the betrothal,” she said, eyeing you up and down. “He said if I broke off his betrothal to Helaena, he’d stop drinking. He said he’d stop drinking, stop whoring, stop shirking his duties and be what the realm expects him to be. He said he couldn’t see himself being a better man without someone who makes him want to be good in the first place.” 

“And what did you say, Your Grace?”

“I told him I’d consider it.” She stepped closer to you, “Tell me, Lady Y/N, if my son marries you, would you help him become his best? Your family is well known for their piety and abstinence. Your parents wouldn’t agree to a match if Aegon continued to be as he is.” 

‘To be honest, Your Grace, I hardly knew Aegon before last night. I still do not truly know him, but I can see him.”

“Him?”

“The person inside.”

The boy who wants to be held and told that he’s loved no matter his actions. The boy who drowns his misery with wine. 

“I cannot promise to change him overnight, Your Grace. People like your son cannot give up their vices right away, but I will be there for him. I shall be there in his lowest moments to lift him up and hold his hand through the most difficult parts. As his wife, I will perform the duties expected of me and more."

The Queen continued studying you for a moment, then nodded quietly. "The King and I will think on this. You may go now, Lady Y/N."

You bowed to her and let her lady escort you out. Nervousness made you walk on shaky legs despite your best to keep a steady stride. Neither of you did anything wrong. You'd only comforted the prince when he needed it. Had he truly said he'd change if he married you? You doubted that. Boys often say ridiculous things when in the euphoria of infatuation. You're sure Her Grace would see that and deny the marriage. You don't have to worry much.

...But, should she allow it, being queen wouldn't be so bad. Influencing Aegon to change can lead to you influencing him to do other things as well. Such as bending laws to your family's benefit or getting them higher positions in the world. It might not be bad at all.

Perhaps you would give Aegon a special night time visit...

[madaboutmunson]

Wishin' And Hopin'

Telepathy (Prompt A2 ) Summary: In which Eddie realises he might have some residual power from The Upside-Down and plans to use it in the best way he knows how, to impress the guy he's had a crush on for months

Word Count: 2740 @eddiemunsonbingo

AO3 Link ******************************************************************

Healing from the aftermath of The Upside-Down was a struggle. There was no denying that, but two very awesome things happened due to that epic shit fest.

Larvae and Germs of the jury I present to you:

Exhibit A: Getting to spend a lot of alone time with one disgustingly handsome Steve Harrington, who basically looked after me like he was my sexy nurse.

Exhibit B: Some juvenile stage telepathy.

We’ll get back to that fine specimen of Exhibit A later.

Let us first deal with Exhibit B.

So, at first, it was just kinda weird. I was half-watching Wheel of Fortune with Wayne while brainstorming some campaign ideas, and I could hear him repeatedly shouting a word of the answer. Honestly, I love him, but repetition in the same monotonous tone was getting right on my last nerve, like a smoke alarm that needs new batteries. Except no beep, just  “World” over and fucking over. 

So, I, well, okay, not my finest moment, but I might have lost my cool and said a little loudly, “IT’S ON TOP OF THE WORLD!!”

He clutched his pearls and recoiled into his corner of the sofa, all wide-eyed and slack-jawed and had the cheek to say, “Jesus Christ, Eddie. Ya nearly sent me straight to the pearly gates!”

“I was helping you with the answer you were evidently struggling with!” 

“Eddie, there ain’t a single song that left the beauty of Karen Carpenter’s mouth that I don’t know. Just ‘cus I don’t blurt out the answer to ruin it for the whole trailer park!” “Ok! Alright! So I can’t say the full answer, but you can keep repeating one word of the answer repeatedly. Like that wasn’t going to annoy the fuck out of me. You’re deliberately bein’ an antagonistic asshole, Wayne!”

Then he just looked at me. Like how he looks at those Canadian geese when they get too close to him at the park, “Eddie, I didn't say a word.”

Now I rolled my eyes and gave it the whole raspberry award at his performance, which did almost have me going, by the way, but the way he just continued to stare at me and look me over like I’d just fallen out of the sky. I knew he wasn’t lyin’. That’s when I started to get scared. I thought I’d slipped into one of those Vecna vision things.

“What did you hear, Ed?”

“You were sayin’ ‘World’ over and over.”

“I was saying the answer, but not out loud, Ed. Just in my mind.”

“Ok, well, that’s ridiculous. How could I possibly hear what's going on in your mind?”

“Fuck if I know. What am I thinking now?”

“Are you serious right now? I’m on the edge of sanity here, and you are making out like I’m Luke Skywalker or some shit? That's it. I’m going to bed! You know Steve doesn't pull this shit when it’s his turn babysitting me!”

I grabbed my crutch and started hobbling over to my room, and he started up again, this time with ‘Discombobulated.’ 

I turn round, and he’s wide-eyed, staring at me, gulping down his beer. I was just about to give him a piece of my mind when he pulled the beer from his lips with a gasp and said, “Now, if I was drinkin’, there ain’t no way I coulda said that word. For the record, I can’t for the life o’ me say that word out loud anyways. But I can think it.”

“Fine, let's play your silly game, old timer. Do it again. This time with me watchin’ your lyin’ ass!”

He knocked back his beer again, and I was ready for his lame-ass ventriloquism when I heard him clear as a bell “Bill”. I hobble over to check he’s not talking out of the side of his mouth or some shit, but he wasn’t

“Bill?”

“Yeah! It's a miracle, Eddie! You can read minds!”

“OK, don’t alert the Pope just yet. It might be some creepy shit left over from that messed up place we were stuck in.”

“We should practice!” He said as he frantically pulled me back to the sofa.

“Who the hell is Bill, by the way?”

“It's not a he. It's a what. I was saying, ‘Remember to pay the telephone bill.’ “

So we tried all different things for a few hours every day for the next few nights when he wasn't at work, but all I could ever get was one word, which had to be quite an intense thought. Fleeting ones just didn't hit my radar. So I guess if my telepathy was a developing human, it would be in the butt shuffling to the almost crawling stage.

I tried it around town, and boy, do the people of Hawkins have a lot of fucking issues! Ha! The ones that look like a curse word would knock them dead are the worst of the lot!

So, the moment you’ve all been waiting for back to Exhibit A!

So naturally, when my rugged Florence Nightingale came a-callin’, I had to try it out. I am only human. Who wouldn’t wanna know what is going on in that pretty lil’ head of his underneath that voluminous mane?

So, I started with something small. I put on a scary movie. He jump-scares pretty easily for a guy who’s fought freakish things from other dimensions in melee range. When one of the characters went to the basement instead of out the door, I could hear a faint ‘always’.

“God, they always do that, don’t they? It’s so dumb, right?”

He turned to me with that ediblely cute half-smile and said, “Weird, I was just thinking that!”

“Great minds think alike, I guess? But we are kinda both watching the same thing.” 

His puppy dog eyes flick up to the ceiling because, apparently, that is where all the answers are for Steve. His thinking face, urgh, stunning! Don’t get me started! He gave a shrug, nodded and went back to watching the movie.

After a while, I got a much louder word, ‘Pizza.’

I can’t make it too obvious, so I try to get up and head to the kitchen, and he’s on it like butter on a biscuit, “You hungry? Sorry, Eddie, I should have made something before the movie. I won’t be long.” Then I got “Eat,” so I knew I was on the right track.

“Hey, uh, save you cookin’. Why don’t we order a pizza?”

“Pizza? I mean, yeah, I could go for it, but I thought you said last week you didn't wanna eat anything you couldn’t see prepared, in case the government put trackers in it?”

He was right; I did say that and meant it. But who in their right mind would deprive this stud muffin of his cheesy treat, huh? Not me, that's for sure, because I know what happens when Steve gets happy.

He smiles big, and his honey-flecked eyes cast down and back up, “Thanks, Ed. I’ve been thinking about one all week, but it's a waste on my own.”

“We lucky for you, Steve, you have the gift of my presence this evening, so you don’t have to worry about that, and if we don't finish any, I know Wayne will snaffle it when he gets back.”

Then he let out one of those sweet little laughs he does, and I had to wait for him to turn his back to me so I could clench my fists and wrinkle up my nose in some weird kinda cuteness aggression.

Then I heard ‘Hot.’

So when he asked me what kind I wanted, I said, “I dunno, I’m feeling like a little spice could really hit the spot tonight.”

That earned me a hip pop and a finger gun, wink combo before he turned back around to order, twirling the cable around his finger, and I got a picture-perfect view of that ass for a minute or so. 

Then, until the pizza turned up and the entire time we ate it, the word didn't change. ‘Hot’, that's all he’s thinking about.

I figured it might be too spicy for him, so I grabbed two yoohoos from the fridge and set one in front of him without asking this time.

“Oh, thanks, but I’m good Ed. I still got some beer left over.” 

I thought maybe he didn't wanna show that the spice was getting to him, but I left the drink there all the same.

The pizza is long transferred to the kitchen, and we were well into Steve’s movie of choice at this point, Ghostbusters. I can’t get much of anything for a while, but he seems fully absorbed in the film, laughing along and quoting some of the lines. I loved that movie, but I’d have given my other nipple to have Steve be my personal reenactor of the film for the rest of my days. 

I got up to take a leak, and I could hear ‘Hot’ again. So, on my way out of the bathroom, I collect a table fan, put it on the coffee table, and switch it on. The room didn't feel that warm to me, but I knew Steve ran like a furnace. You only had to be within a few inches of him to luxuriate in that fucking man-heat of his. 

Look, I know that's weird ok, but as someone who runs fucking cold, I’m into it, alright? So just keep your opinions to yourself.

My prize for cooling down my summery prince? A fucking confused frown! He took the remote and paused the movie, “Do you want me to get you some shorts or something rather than the fan? They tend to be a little quieter and less expensive to run.” He made a joke, and I laughed embarrassingly hard at it.

“You don’t feel warm in here?”

“No, man. Are you ok? You feeling ill?” Then his hands are on me. Well, okay, he was just checking how warm my forehead was, and my pulse, but facts are facts.

“No, I’m good, man. So good. I just thought you looked warm.” Then he blushes. It was as if someone had crushed red roses onto his cheeks. His pretty little pout dropped open, and for the first time in a long time, he actually looked awkward. I would have consoled him immediately, but I got distracted because he ran his hand through the side of his hair, and I wouldn’t miss a beat of that move, not even if my knees were on fire.

“Well, I’m not. I-I can explain that. I, um…yeah…I kinda tried some of Robin’s moisturiser on my skin because she said it made it look good, and it's probably just making me look shiny. I’ll just…yeah…I’m just gonna go wash my face.”

Then I got a new word, ‘Fuck’

And I still can’t tell you what possessed me to do so, but when he got up to leave, I grabbed his arm, “Don’t do that, man, you look great. It's, uh,  not shiny at all. Your skin is as perfect as it always looks. I just read you wrong, that's all.”

Then he’s staring at my hand, and that word comes back again ‘Hot.’

And then, okay, maybe because I’m touching him properly for the first time, not a nudge in the ribs or the brush of the back of my hand. Usually, he’s the one touching me for medical purposes, obviously, but I’m not a moron. I’ll fucking take that as a win. Thank you very much.

Or maybe it's the way he looked right in my eyes. I don't know, but I caved. I spilt my guts. The quality control between my brain and mouth had gone out to lunch.

“Then why do you keep thinking ‘hot’?”

His eyebrows nearly shot off his face, “What?”

“You! You keep thinking the word ‘hot’. I can kinda read thoughts, well, just words. Well, just word, actually.”

“You-you…What? You can read my thoughts?”

“No, it's not as advanced as that.” Then, I explained everything that me and Wayne had been practising.

“Shit, do I need to call everyone? Is it upside-down stuff?”

“I dunno, maybe, but I don’t feel unwell, and nothing else weird has happened. Wayne is still okay, and we’ve been trialling it for a while now.” That seemed to take him out of panic mode and into something more relaxed.

“Huh. So you can hear a word but don’t have the context, right.” Then he stops, squints, and tilts his head with a big smile, “That's why you ordered the Pizza. That's why you picked a spicy one, the drinks and the fan! Ok, ok, that makes sense now.”

“Yeah, sorry for not telling you. I just wanted to try it out, and maybe that was desperately underhanded of me, and I shouldn't have, but…”

“You wanted to impress me?” He raised his eyebrow at me, and honestly, the sofa could have consumed me whole, and I wouldn’t have noticed because then I was stalled, and the engine wouldn’t turn, “Eddie?”

“You just do so much for me, and most of the time, you guess what I want or need without any help, and I thought, maybe I could give that back to you, you know? I thought it would be cool.”

He could have killed me with the next smirk and head shake he gave me before shutting off the fan, settling back in his seat, and unpausing the movie. I felt like I’d gotten away with it and shuffled back, too.

A few minutes later, I heard ‘You.’

When I glanced at him, he was frowning hard at the TV screen. The word silenced as he turned to me with a beaming smile, “If you get it, tap my arm.”

“OK, sure. That could be fun.”

‘Are’ Tap.

‘So’ Tap

“Stupid?” I had blurted out at the same time as that word of the night came crashing back into my head

‘Hot’ ………….tap

Steve’s face fell, and he scrambled to get up, “Sorry Eddie. Shit. I just thought. You know what. I don't know what I thought, ok. I’m-yeah. Fuck! I’m just gonna go.”

I rushed to scramble after him, but I couldn’t seem to get my usual motormouth going because my whole brain was mush due to a demi-god calling me, ME,  hot! Fucking hell, fellow perverts, I tell you this. If, at that point, I had been an able-bodied man and hadn't been on a one-way journey to the floor. Steve Harrington would have been out that door, and I probably would never have seen him again. But I’m not, and he’s a fucking superhero, so naturally, he just caught me in his stupidly perfect sculpted arms that were trying desperately to break free from that uptight polo shirt he loves to wear.

“I-I-I-I thought you were gonna say stupid. I mean, think. I mean….you know what I mean. What I mean is I didn't mean what you said was stupid!

He just blinked at me as he set me to my feet, still holding me upright, looking over me, checking I was okay.

Then, instead of letting me go, he stared right into my eyes, and how I didn't end up back on the floor again, I don't know. I can only imagine it was because his goddamn thick, taught, tanned thighs were enough support for both of us.

‘Kiss,’ I heard and stood there like a gormless idiot.

‘Kiss’, and until that point, all the words I’d heard had been just a flat tone, but this one shouted in my head. So I put on my big boy pants and tapped his arm, even though my mouth felt like the desert.

“Now?” I croaked out, and he nodded in response.

So, I did what any red-blooded human would have done in my situation. I attempted to climb that man like a tree, failed, then with his assistance tried again and succeeded, and gave him the kiss I’d been storing up for months.

Now, now be good, fair readers. Avert your fucking eyes. The rest of that evening is all mine. Let’s just say he liked that kiss. 

A lot. 

He was very appreciative. 

Many times. 

So much, in fact, he’s still walking around our house mentally shouting for them five years later.

[wexhappyxfew]

31. pinky swear from the touch prompt list please!! really i’d love this prompt for all three pairings but maybe carrie and dougie?

- @parajumpboots 💜💜

HI PERI!!!!! ( @parajumpboots ) 🥹 thank you so so much for stopping by and dropping this wonderful little prompt in - it was so fun to fill and write, especially for carrie and dougie!! they’re so fun to write and play around with in context! :) thank you again and please enjoy! <3

you pinky promise?

(a/n): this can be seen a bit as a part 2 to THIS piece i wrote a little while back, but they don’t have to be read together at all, so! please enjoy carrie and dougie and their antics hehe :)

Day was fading to night and she was still feeling like she'd been run over by a truck.

Everything ached, her head was woozy, her throat dry and scratchy, her nose running like it was something fierce, and everything just seemed so loud and in her face. It had been only a matter of time before she would get sick with something like this - even as a kid in school, she'd catch anything that ran through that building, whether from other kids or the seasonal changes of the weather.

And now, she was here, trapped in a cot in the Med-Bay, listening to distant screams from people in Triage or others in the sickness wing launching up lunch. Curled on her side, she stared lazily up towards the window where the sunset was starting to dance across the sky, a beautiful array of colors flickering across, mixed with clouds and nightfall, the blue and purple hues dotting with stars.

At least the sky was having a grand old time.

"How ya feeling, Bergie?" Carrie stiffened for a moment and then shifted, glancing up and over her shoulder to see Dougie. Dougie. Surprise-surprise.

"Okay." she answered, before turning back and resting her swimming head against the pillow and staring up at the sky again, "Queasy." She heard Dougie let a puff of air leave his lips in a response for laughter before a chair screeched against the floor and was pulled up at her side. Slowly, she looked towards him, sat in the chair, lighting up a cigarette and letting the smoke blow upwards.

"You serious?" she murmured.

"Ah, c'mon, just for a sec." he said, talking around the cigarette on his lip, as she rolled her eyes and adjusted onto her back, looking towards him.

"Just a sec, huh?" she said, "I bet even if I could pay you the largest sum of money in the world, that thing wouldn't leave your lips."

"Since when did you become so concerned with me and this cigarette?"

"Because I feel sick enough as it is, Dougie, and you're lighting it up in front of me." she said with a deadpan stare and he raised his hands in defense and then popped it off his lip and stubbed it out.

"Better?"

"You're a real sweetheart, ya know that?" Carrie murmured and he made a face, which she mocked back, "So. What's up?"

"Figured you wanted to hear about Lieutenant Bradshaw nearly throwing me overboard." Dougie offered rather expressively as his eyes grew wide and he held out his hands, "I promise, if you want to have a laugh, I am more than willing to offer it."

"At your own humiliating expense?"

"Precisely." Carrie laughed and then sighed, before smiling slightly.

"Well, go on, then," she urged him on, bringing the blanket up over her form a bit more, "you've got me invested now. There's no backing out."

"I can never back out of these sorts of things, can I?"

"Dougie. Story. Now." Dougie smirked and then leaned forward against his knees, before chuckling.

"Well, first-off, she called me Bergie I don't know how many fucking times-"

"That's because, uh, hello genius, I'm usually the bombardier here, alright-"

"Anyway," Dougie said, sending her a look, which made her smile slightly, "after calling me Bergie, I started making jokes back, ya know, try to give the feel that you probably give Lieutenant Bradshaw, when she basically has to hand the fort over."

"So you're saying I'm funny." Carrie said, with a soft smirk his way, "Thank you for that." Dougie looked to her and for a moment, they just watched each other, before they both broke out into laughter.

"That's a bit of a stretch, Bergie-"

"No, it ain't, you said it with a straight face!" Dougie looked to her and raised a brow and she raised her own back.

"Fine, yes, I realize that you usually try to get people laughing and I figured Lieutenant Bradshaw would appreciate it, so…." Dougie shrugged, "whatever makes you sleep at night."

"Asshole." Carrie murmured, before grinning, "So, what she'd say?" Dougie leaned back in his chair and then smiled wide.

"Well, we landed, right?" he said, "Bes is well, to be the nicest I can be, looking at me like I just bet on a losing horse, and then Lieutenant Bradshaw comes down from the cockpit and chews me out. Pretty sure Bes and Francis got front row seats to my funeral on that one." Carrie let out a bark of laughter and cough rather wetly, which wasn't the most pleasant sounding, but Dougie seemed to hardly care less, as he shook his head with a chuckle.

"God, she went 'Why do I have you doing Bergie impressions in my ear, Douglass! We're here to drop bombs, not put on a show for rich-fucks!'" Dougie said with a laugh and Carrie let out a string of laughter, her head falling back, just as the sight she got in her head,

"It was bad, I gotta admit."

"You really outdid yourself there." Carrie said with a snort, "C'mon, show me it." Dougie looked at her and raised a brow, and with what strength she had, she reached forward and punched his shoulder.

"Your impression of me, asshole," she said, "c'mon, I know it oughta be good enough for 25,000 feet in the air, huh?" Dougie looked to her and his face softened for a brief moment, before he gathered his bearings.

"'This shit tastes like it was cooked on the goddamn barnburner you call an engine!'" Dougie said, in a ridiculously accurate, rather high-pitched voice that made Carrie wheeze to the point all she could was cough wetly, and had to recover.

"I do not sound like that." she managed out, wetly coughing again and pointing a finger at home, "But that is absolutely something I'd say."

"See?" Dougie said leaning forward, grabbing the cup of water at the side of her cot and handing it to her, "No wonder I pissed off Lieutenant Bradshaw so much, she probably thought I was trying to make her lose her mind." She took the cup and drank some water down slowly, and then smiled.

"Got that right," Carrie said with a laugh, before catching his gaze, and placing down the water, "that or you hang around me far too often." Dougie smirked, watching her for a moment as it grew quiet between them. But then he shrugged and she looked away and he scratched his neck.

"Listen, I don't want to bother you much more, you're not feeling great so…." Dougie made to stand, but Carrie looked up at him, before reaching out and grabbing at his arm.

"It's okay," she said, her grip loosening on the sleeve of his A-2, as she realized how suddenly desperate she looked for him to stay (she didn't want to come across like that good Lord), "I'm not exactly tired yet, so….don't feel you have to go." Dougie looked down at her and then smiled softly, before she let go and he settled himself down into the chair again.

"Well, you better heal on up quicker then if I decide to hang around a little while longer, got that? I think Bes was gonna sucker-punch me in the nose of Silver Bullets," Dougie said, "she missed you." Carrie smiled warmly at the thought of Bessie and pulled the blanket tighter around her form and nodded.

"I can promise you, right now, not focusing on the fact I feel like shit is probably the best thing for me," she said, in a slightly joking tone, but genuinely honest one as well, "but I promise, alright?" Dougie watched her and then sent her a look.

"You pinky promise?" he asked her, holding out a pinky towards her. She stared between his pinky finger and his face and felt her shoulders loosen.

"Fine, yes," she said, looping her finger through his and smirking, "you just miss me out there in the chow line messing with your coffee that bad, huh?" Dougie looked at her, pulling a face in her direction.

"Where the hell would you even get that idea?" Dougie said, "And plus, when you do mess with my coffee, and let's just say it isn't entirely detrimental, adding more cream or sugar isn't exactly a negative in my sense."

"It's going to clog up your organs with shit." Carrie said and Dougie raised a brow.

"And here we are. Back again to Bergie Achterberg being so wonderfully concerned with my health," Dougie said, "you wanna write to my Ma? Ask for my birth forms too now, huh? That or you really are trying to get your karma out on me? Clogging up my organs with shit, huh?" Carrie watched him and then unlooped her pinky and sat back against the bed.

"Clogging up your organs with sugar and unhealthy stuff, Dougie," she said, before pulling the blanket up more, "must I repeat it?"

"Please do." Carrie cracked an eye open and watched as Dougie started chuckling and she did her best to hide her smirk.

"You absolute asshole."

"Oh c'mon, you love it."

Both her eyes opened and she looked over at him for a moment. They lingered in silence for a moment - somehow it always seemed to happen. One of them saying something that sent them both, separately reeling in a sense neither could quite compound in their minds. Especially when it was supposed to be something casual, something that rolled off the tongue and was in fact normal to say to friends.

But whatever was going on in this war and between them, it wasn't normal.

And something like that made them go silent.

Carrie watched him for a moment, as he seemed to smile, more to himself than her, and then looked at her.

"Get some rest, Bergie." he said softly, before leaning forward and patting the edge of the blanket where her you could see her legs outlined by the fabric, and then stood, "Need anything?"

Carrie looked at him rather quietly, suddenly feeling like a child again, watching him stand and ready to leave, except in a much more pleasant manner than anyone at home had ever been like. Because at home, it had been people leaving without explanation or well-wishes.

"Just some crackers maybe? Please?" she asked him quietly, her voice sounding more youthful than anything else in the past few days. Dougie smiled at her, that gentle grin rising on his face and he nodded.

"I'll be back, alright?" And she watched him give her a smile, before wandering away, finding a nurse and engaging in conversation.

And after that. He came back. With crackers.