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utterlyotterlyx · 13 days

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The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Two

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - some angst, mentions to past trauma, fluff

Part One

The crescent moon scars peered out from the neckline of your nightgown, still raised and angry, threatening to split open in the hope of having their former partners restored.

It wasn't often that they caused you pain, and if they did, you had learnt to live with it, but there was a knot twisting around the muscle there and every movement was causing you to hiss and wince. After you had managed to lift yourself out of bed, you stood braced against one of the posters of the frame, eyes closed and inhaling deeply to halt the contractions pulsing around the area and shooting down your spine.

A gentle knock pulled your attention, the swirling pain striking hard and threatening to send you crumpling to the ground, "What's wrong?" Azriel appeared at your side, no doubt hearing the deep breaths and audible whimpers from the other side of the door.

Azriel's room was across the hall from your own, a silly decision on Rhys' part when you thought about the complicated relationship you shared with the Shadowsinger. It wasn't odd for you to enter your room at any point of the day to find him splayed across your bed or sat by the window, he'd always liked the comfort of your room more than his own.

"There's a knot in my shoulder, I can feel it moving," Azriel nodded in understanding and led you to the bathroom at a pace that was comfortable to you, helping you to sit on the edge of the tub before moving to your medicine cabinet.

Azriel knew where everything was in your room, he knew exactly where you kept the expensive ointments and where you kept the cheaper ones that Cassian would 'borrow' from you unknowing to the fact that you knew full well that he took your things. All you needed to do was mutter what you wanted and his shadows would slither back and tell him, moments later he would return with the item and a warm smile on his lips.

Soon enough Azriel had returned to you, tub in hand and glancing to your clothed back, "Do you mind if I lower it a little?"

Shaking your head, you caught the straps of your gown before they fell too far and exposed your chest to him. Azriel's touch feathered over the scar, and he could clearly see the muscle spasming beneath the skin, you entire body convulsing along with it. It was usually Mor that tended to you in these situations, but you didn't mind Azriel helping at all, you had seen the most gruesome parts of one another. An angry muscle was nothing.

The cream was cold against your skin but you leaned into it and the owner of its appearance, Azriel's fingers worked meticulously, applying pressure in just the right place to bring you untold relief but also a surging amount of pain. Azriel apologised softly as his fingers worked their way into the muscle, rolling small circles into the skin and wincing with you as you hissed in pain.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry," his shadows had flowed over your shoulders, hugging themselves around your neck and purring softly in your ear.

Azriel always tried his best to be mindful of your loss, going as far as to tuck his large wings behind him as much as possible when you were around despite you telling him that it wasn't an issue. It was obvious how much you missed them from when you looked at his wings, or Cassian's, or Rhys', even Feyre and Nyx weren't safe from your gaze.

A few more minutes went by of Azriel's fingers rubbing into your skin and you weren't in pain anymore, it had floated away in the abyss and you exhaled from your mouth as his hands came to rest atop your shoulders, "Thank you."

"Of course," he glanced about the bathroom, "Do you need me to do anything else?"

"I should be fine, thank you."

The touch of his fingers were still on your bare shoulders and you could feel his gaze trailing down the thick waves of your messy morning hair to the large scars carved into your shoulders. Warmth spread across your skin as his digits lay unmoving on you and you turned your head to the side to capture his gaze, “Is everything alright?”

Pulling him from his trance, Azriel cleared his throat and took a step backward, bumping into the jagged edge of the tub with a dull thump, “Fine. Everything is fine,” it didn’t go unnoticed by you how his shadows had restrained his wings, pinning them behind his back, but before you could tell him to stop, to not hide from you, he had spoke, “I should go. Rhys is sending me on a mission with Nesta.”

You stood, pulling the thin strings of your nightgown back over your shoulders as you faced him, “You and Nesta?” Your voice echoed in the large bathroom, rattling against the windowpanes that were begging to be opened to allow the sweet sonnet of Velaris to reach you, “Why both of you?”

“I can’t say,” he couldn’t say? Or he didn’t know? “I just wanted to come and say goodbye.”

“And to tell me to watch my mouth whilst you’re gone?”

Azriel smirked, “That too,” he wound his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, swaying softly with you in his arms, “I’ll be back soon.”

Cedar was consuming you and you swayed with him, eyes fluttered closed and enjoying the contact of his arms around you, “Be careful,” it was all you could say to make him aware that you cared, he knew that too.

Pulling back from you slightly, he looked down on you, running his thumb along the curve of your jaw, “Always am,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, where your hair met the skin, and paced from the room, his shadows fighting to stay back for one more moment with you.

It was no coincidence that Rhys had decided to send both Azriel and Nesta on a joint mission, the two people closest to you suddenly being ordered away from the Night Court. Away from you. It was unsettling to say the least. Rhys had been keeping a wary eye on you since the morning Eris had left a few days ago, he had noticed how Eris had lingered around you that night at dinner, how the High Lord had unknowingly dressed in the same colours as you, and he didn’t like it one bit.

It felt like punishment, to force you into solitude for aiding Eris at that meeting. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy spending time with the rest of your family, or that you didn’t like them, it’s just that Azriel and Nesta understood you in the deepest way possible, from the intricate ticking of your mind, to your wit, to the abuse you had suffered and the darkness that lingered inside of your soul, tainting it with its inky mist.

The entirety of Prythian, whilst they knew of you, wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a crowd if it weren’t for your telltale eyes. It was always something that had bothered you, why exactly were you so hidden, like forbidden fruit born from a poison oak. To look at but never touch, to never be intrigued by, to never interact with unless they wished death upon themselves.

You were the last resort, the one Rhys would call upon if there was no other option. At first you believed it was because he truly wanted to keep you out of harms way, to protect you and the future of the court, but as time ticked away, it became glaringly obvious that protecting you wasn’t the reason for it at all.

Rhys was supposed to be the most powerful High Lord that Prythian had ever seen.

What would people think when they saw you, his lesser than sister unworthy of any true title, possessing power that even he found unfathomable?

Sure, Rhys could mist a portion of an army away with a lift of the finger, but you could decimate entire battlefields without even blinking if you so wished it. It wasn’t information he wanted to be common knowledge, so it wasn’t.

The reflection in the mirror was the perfect rendition of the mask you had worn your entire life, soft, elegant, naive, unknowing, it disguised the raging wildfire that consumed you daily, that begged to be unleashed, to devour the world in your fury and conform anyone who stood against you to ash.

A practiced smile fell onto your lips, your hands were neatly folded atop your form fitting plum purple skirt, and your shoulders dropped with a sigh. In that moment, as you stood before your reflection, dressed in fitted fabric of onyx and purple, did you realise how much better you looked in red.

The library had always been your sanctuary, perhaps that was the reason you and Nesta had become so close. She too sought out the comfort that only the library could provide, maybe it was the smell of worn parchment or the faint aroma of oak from the sturdy shelves, maybe it was how the light trickled through the stained glass windows or the comfort of the deep seated armchairs. Whatever it was, it definitely owned a part of you, of you both.

Nesta had found herself idly glancing at the titles on the shelves, it was the week after she had been Made, and one of the first moments she had left her bedroom since finding herself in Velaris. The eldest Archeron sister knew little of you, so little in fact that she didn’t realise you were Rhys’ sister until you told her.

You’d found Nesta in one of the many hidden pews of books, clutching a particular title between your fingers, she had looked awful back then with her hallowed cheeks and sickly pale skin, and she had commented on your inability to announce yourself, and you had told her that she better watch how she spoke to you in your home. Of course that meant that you would become close friends.

Silence swirled about you, a room that was usually rife with Nesta’s sharp humour and chatter about the books you had swapped with her was nothing but a wistful memory.

The library was off limits to everyone bar you and Nesta who came and went as you pleased, other members of the inner circle had to ask for special permission to enter the sanctuary you had made for yourselves. It was an uninterrupted space, a place of harmony and exploration.

Which is exactly why you scowled when you saw Lucien sat in your usual seat with his legs propped atop the vintage coffee table, sifting through pages of a random book he had removed from its perch without giving it much attention or care.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here, Lucien?”

Lucien glanced up at you then, cocking his head to the side and examining you. His mechanical eye whirred, filling the space, as his gaze narrowed in on you, “You look better in red,” his eyes moved to the space behind you which led to the open hallway with walls adorned with various portraits, namely one of yourself that Rhys had commissioned before the happenings of Amarantha, midnight purple wings and all; Lucien silently beckoned you inside with his stare and you closed the doors behind your entrance with a soft click.

Floating to the nearest open seat, a plush black armchair opposite him which homed a red wine velvet cushion, you waved your fingers and the atmosphere fell dense, “You can speak freely,” a shimmer clung to the air like speckles of glistening starlight, and Lucien knew that if anyone were to enter in search of you that they wouldn’t see anything but an empty room before their eyes.

Glamoured.

Lucien was by no means an unpleasant male to look at, he shared so many aspects with Eris, the elder brother than you could see in Lucien’s fire red hair and russet eyes, in his chiselled cheekbones and golden skin, even in the distant surveying glint in his eye. You didn’t know much about the Vanserra brother that resided in your city, but from what Feyre had told you, Lucien was trustworthy, one of the few males in the land she would always be able to count on.

Reaching into the back pocket of his deep brown briefs, Lucien held a piece of parchment before your narrowed eyes, turning it over in his fingers whilst contemplating whether or not to give it to you. Lucien knew little of you, only fragments of you from what Elain had told him in passing, but he had a feeling that you were much more than what you appeared to be. Such was obvious from the subtle notes he picked up from watching you converse with Eris a few evenings prior.

The parchment was rough under his touch, calloused paper that was singed at the edges. Lucien hadn’t dared to open it when it had appeared under his mug that morning with your name intricately scribed onto the folded surface, instead awaiting for his own note to appear, which it had moments later with strict instructions to make sure the note reached you no matter what.

“This is from Eris,” you sat up straighter in your seat, the once unbothered and passive stare now replaced with one of excited intrigue. He smirked.

Lucien held out the parchment to you, and you were ashamed at how fast you rose from your seat to claim it from your fingers. It smelt of him, of autumn pine and cinnamon, the same scent that had lingered on your skin since the morning he had left.

You sent him a sidelong glare and tried to keep your features as trained and neutral as possible, holding it lax in your fingers like you weren’t itching to flip it open and read away, “You know that Rhys would nail your balls to the wall if he knew you were giving this to me?”

Lucien hummed, grinning at you, “Yes. But something tells me that he’s not going to find out.”

Damn Lucien Vanserra and his keen eye, and damn you for allowing a sliver of your true nature to shine through for him to see.

Deep down you were a young girl in love with the idea of fated mates, of true love and happiness, of bright tomorrows and forevers, and it taken a lot of darkness to try and squash that hope that lingered within your soul. Centuries of believing that your power and name made you unlovable, to be feared only.

“What makes you think that?”

Lucien cocked his head to the side, looking you up and down, confirming to himself that there was no way that you would tell a soul, not even Nesta, “That hope I just saw in those eyes,” he rose from his seat and approached your position, “Perhaps it’s time for you to wake up,” he spoke in a tone that indicated that he knew something that you didn’t, many things actually.

Casting his gaze downward at the beautiful cursive rendition of your name, he spoke, “Write your response and will it back to him, it will dissipate into ash in your fingers and float to him in the wind.”

“Why have you delivered this?”

Lucien shrugged, “So many questions,” his voice trailed off, shoving his hands deep into his pockets he stepped toward the door, “Because y/n,” he turned from you, talking to you over his shoulder, “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever seen Eris be so openly kind to, do you know how hard it is for him to apologise about anything?”

Then he was done, and the moment he stepped out into the hallway the glamour dropped and you shivered at the sensation of it.

The portrait of you stared at him and he stopped before it, drinking in the beauty of the starlit backdrop and your wildfire ringed orbs that cut through the darkness like a beacon of enveloping safety. Lucien glanced back to you, noting how you stood in the room peering down at the parchment, turning it over in your hands and thinking about whether or not it was a good idea to indulge the new High Lord, “Life has its challenges, y/n. It’s up to you to decide if they’re worth the struggle.”

He spoke from knowledge, of his own truth, “Were they worth it to you?”

Lucien smiled fondly, no doubt casting his mind to his beautiful mate that breathed life back into his weathering essence, “Very much so.”

It had taken a lot of back and forth mental arguments to bring yourself to open Eris’ note. There was a delicious foreboding about it all that made it all the more tempting, Rhys would lose the reigns of his consciousness and submit himself to his own darkness if he knew.

But Lucien was right, there was no way that you were going to tell him.

With your heartbeat thundering in your chest, you slipped your thumb between the fold and flipped the note open.

Eris’ writing wasn’t as you thought it would be, you were expecting messy handwriting with little personable tone to the words, but how wrong you were, how wrong you were when you could hear that sultry whisky deep voice linger in every neatly curved word you read.

I apologise for putting you in the position of keeping something from your family, but I had to speak to you, and this is the only way I can.

Allowing your gaze to linger on the words, the paper rustled in the breeze from the open window, like Eris had sent the element to give you a little nudge. Reaching for a pen, you scribed your reply, watching the paper engulf in contained flame and the ash dance away in the wind, just as Lucien had said.

It’s not just yourself that you’re putting in danger. Poor Lucien for becoming entangled in another scandal.

A moment passed, and another piece of parchment appeared in your lap doused in his scent.

Any danger is worth even a mere second of your time.

Even if it means pissing off the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history?

Even then. But we both know that Rhysand isn’t the most powerful, don’t we Fawn?

Butterflies pulsed in your stomach at the name, you were by no means a fawn, but the sincere softness of it made your heart clench.

If you’re alluding to yourself then I’m afraid you’re severely mistaken, High Lord.

The paper vanished, reappearing again moments later and you could have sworn you could see Eris tucked away in the office of Fir Manor, dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and forest green briefs, hair tousled and smirking into the air with a quill resting between his digits.

This is perhaps the one and only time where I will happily be mistaken… and please, it’s Eris.

Do I not threaten you?

Should you?

You thought about it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that wished to be feared or appear as threatening, it was the role you had grown into, the one you had always played with little say in it, and it was like he knew that.

No, I shouldn’t.

The paper vanished and you waited a stretch for it to return, confiding yourself to staring at the starlit skies beyond the window and wonder where exactly Nesta and Azriel had been sent off to.

Where would Rhys have sent them? And why couldn’t Azriel tell you about it? Did he even know himself what the aim of his mission was? Did Nesta? Why had he chosen the two people closest to you and knowingly left you without someone to lean on?

I see the mask you wear. I see what it’s done to you. You’ve worn it for so long that you feel lost within it, as though the mask has consumed your light. I want to tell you to let the fire burn, to be yourself is the greatest gift you could ever give.

Who knew that the fox could speak with sentiment?

And, like you could hear the earthy chuckle through the inked words, you could practically hear him say,

There are many things that you don’t know about me, Little Fawn. Perhaps one day I’ll let you close enough to find out.

The ghost of his voice lingered around you, like faint whispers of a lover at sunrise.

No, you wouldn’t tell Rhys, or anyone for that matter about the oh so wrong pit burying itself into your gut, or about your nerves prickling with flaming desire.

Blood and loyalty be damned.

Authors Note

Hope you love this x

Feedback is, as always, appreciated

Taglist

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aernx · 9 months

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under the rearview 𖧷 （ 엔하 ）

[❕] secret relationship w enha maknae line · warnings jealousy in jungwon’s part · genre · fluff, minor angst?, university au · not proofread （hyung line ver ）

001. KIM SUNOO （김선우）

It’s the nth time they asked, yet your answer remains the same. You and Sunoo were just friends, nothing more, nothing less. Well for them, that is. But in reality, you two far exceeds the label of “friends”. It’s been nearly three months since you both started dating and watching your friends remain clueless towards your intwined hearts, made everything more exciting.

Sunoo was your crush friend since high school. With his perfect looks and personality sweeter than the dose of sugar in a candy bar, it was extremely hard not to catch feelings. Not that anyone can blame you, Sunoo’s charms were irresistible.

After endless years mastering the art of pining and denial, you finally mustered the confidence to confess. Much to your surprise, the feeling you held for him did not remain one sided.

Stolen glances across cafeteria tables, intwined pinkies in between lecture halls, you and Sunoo were good at keeping it under the rearview.

Always so cautious, but it makes everything better, more thrilling. Sneakily hiding behind staircases, biting back the smile that crept on your lips as he enters your line of sight.

One day maybe. One day you’ll be able to tell your friends. But right now, you feel content on what was going. Just you and Sunoo, overlooked under the blinding lights, hands joined in the darkness where the shadows loom.

002. YANG JUNGWON （양중원）

Maybe it was an impulsive decision. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it. Hell it was your idea, you wanted to keep you and Jungwon’s relationship private. And you regret every second of it.

You get that Jungwon was popular—hell you are even popular too. But you didn’t think he would be that kind of popular.

There was a difference between you and him. If any guys dared to approach you, you were quick to turn them down. But Jungwon? He’s different. He’s too kind to shoot down girls like that. Especially when that girl is the student council secretary.

As the council president, it was his job to deal with countless of students, and that was no issue for you. After all you yourself knew better. As his vice, it was also your job to attend such matters.

But you knew something was wrong when the secretary never once spared you a glance in meetings, or such. Her eyes basically glued to your boyfriend as he presented the important matters in hand.

You felt like rolling your eyes. Hell maybe you did. Sure maybe it’s not her fault—she didn’t know any better. You had no reason to hate her.

It’s not her fault she developed a tiny little crush on Jungwon. I mean the whole university probably did at some point. But you didn’t like it. Maybe it’s your fault you decided to keep it private. But you didn’t want your relationship spectate any unwanted attention. The council was already busy as it is, there was no need anymore unnecessary stirs.

But once you informed Jungwon of this matter, you knew you did the right thing. He understands, because that’s who he was. You took notice of the way your boyfriend set boundaries with the secretary you were wary of. After all their relationship were just bound to student council matters, nothing more. Unlike you and him, who’s hearts beat in sync in between all those meetings, amidst the busyness of the council. Because you knew he always got your back, and you always got his.

003. NISHIMURA RIKI （西村力）

You loved it. You loved every second of it. Seeing his eyes searching yours in the midst of the crowd, seeing his friends tease him for having a crush on you while in reality, you were already his.

He loved seeing them completely oblivious with the fact. It’s funny, really. Maybe it’s a bit childish, but that’s just how you and Riki has always been. Light and carefree was the motto of your relationship.

You wanted to keep things easygoing, slow. You both weren’t ready for the others to know just yet. Though, it’s not like you both were trying hard to hide it. Your friends and him was just a bit blind. If one were to pay attention it would be all too obvious.

The way his eyes lights up everytime you pass by was hard to miss, even for a blind person. The sight of you itself made him giddy to the heart. Sure maybe it’s a shame that he couldn’t show you off. That he couldn’t shove the smirks of his hyungs’ face, a clear look of triumph displayed on his features as he tells his hyungs how he got the girl.

It’s a shame, really. But deep down, you both think it’s more intimate. No one knows about what’s happening under the bleachers. No one knows the way you sneak him in your dorm room in twilight, where the moon shines its brightest. No one knows the way his heart is in your grasp, fingers fully intwined, as he held you close, not willing to ever let go.

perma taglist ❀ @1-800shutthefuckup @astrae4 @chaerybae @haechansbbg @ja4hyvn | nets. @enhanet @hyfenet @kflixnet @k-labels

#kflixnet #enhanet #k labels #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #jungwon x reader #niki x reader #sunoo x reader #enhypen drabbles #enha x reader #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #riki x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 15 days

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Hi! I was wondering if I can request bayverse Donnie who’s dating a roller derby girl (reader)? Like sometimes she’ll come into the lair after the derby and she’d have bruises and other non-medical injuries and Donnie likes how strong she is and her strong ass legs 😚 also can it be fluff hc’s?

Donatello With A Roller Derby Girlfriend (Fluff)

Bayverse!Donatello x reader

A/N: FYI, I know nothing about roller derbies, so I’ve not gotten into too much detail. Also SOMEONE PLEASE GET ME OUT OF CLASSICAL YOUTUBE. I’VE HAD HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR THREE DAYS NOW😭😂💜

Warnings: None💜

Well, first you had to explain to Donnie what roller derby is. Though he may be a genius, he has not spent a lot of time on understanding sports. Well, other than martial arts and basketball. So for once, Donnie would actually be kind of blank on the topic.

Once he knew what it was, he would stocked. His girlfriend does roller derby? Bro, that’s so fucking cool!

He will even get into it, just for your sake, getting to know the rules. A deep dive onto the internet, before letting you know everything he had learned. Not that it wasn’t things you knew already, but you would let him talk. You were happy that he found an interest in what you did, and he was happy to show you he showed interest.

Donnie has always liked your strong limbs. Especially your lower half. Not to be crude or anything but, damn. Those were firm as fuck! He would let those legs choke him! But your strength also made it a little more fun to spare with you. Not that he would make it hard for you at all, but he did enjoy you pushing back a little, and giving him a small challenge.

But the bruises he did not like. No no. Especially not when he realized how many you would get. There was this one time you came down to the lair, directly from a roller derby, and Donnie was more than shocked to find a large bruise on your leg. It took some time to convince him that you were in fact okay, and that this was normal, although bigger than what you were used to be. But even then, Donnie needed a moment to calm down.

Donnie will try to make it to your roller derbies, hiding somewhere in the shadows where no one can see him. Only you know that he is here. And afterwards he would yell and scream about how good you were, making you smile and blush like never before.

Donnie would probably play around with your rollerskates when you weren’t looking. He wouldn’t put them on. Well, he couldn’t even if he tried, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to play with the wheels and make them spin.

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mobbu-min · 2 years

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☆ cat, kitty, cat (3) ☆

summary: In which an alchemy lesson went wrong, and your favorite housewarden is turned into a kitten. Now your tasked with caring for him.

a/n: finally finished all the dorm leaders! I had a bit of trouble writing for idia, so he might be a little ooc ^^: also he was incredibly hard to find photos for, like i struggled so much. on another note, someone recently requested a vice housewarden version, so that will come out soon, but also we hit 700+ followers a little while ago! Im incredibly happy and over joyed, really thank you all!

So i'm thinking about doing a little event. I'm at a crossroads between doing one of those alphabet prompts or just regular prompts. with both, i think i'll include different genres (like fluff, yandere, angst maybe nsfw???) but those are all just thoughts.

if you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them! it's greatly appreciated :)

included: Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

!warning! cursing, ooc!idia? my horrible attempt at a country accent

*you can find the other parts here! -> one, two

Vil Schoenheit <3

This was it.

The moment you were going to meet your demise. Overblot after overblot, you stayed strong and survived. The boys that bullied you for being magicless wouldn’t even come close to the dread you faced. Nor did Grim’s rage when you ran out of tuna.

No, the pure rage you were about to face made all those things minuscule.

You wished you could go back in time and stop yourself. Stop yourself from doing the unthinkable. How you wished you weren’t that naive.

But no, you couldn’t.

You had to face the fact that you accidentally followed Neige LeBlanche back on Magicam. Had to acknowledge your misdoings. And most importantly, giving in and liking his top post. A cute photo of him in a flower field holding up a little puppy. You couldn’t resist. He tempted you with his ridiculously charming smile and bright eyes.

And now you had to face the rage of the one and only housewarden of Pomfiore, Vil Schoenheit.

You could picture it now. Standing in the garden of Pomfiore, the sun’s glow basking the four of you in golden light making the shadows all the more ominous. All the more formidable. You could see Vil’s picturesque frown, red lips in a straight line. Eye makeup done to perfection. Rook’s amused, yet unforgiving, smile. Lastly, Epel’s sad frown, blue eyes glimmering with tears.

You could feel the poison he’d give you slid down your throat. And it won’t be an ugly death, no a death that Rook would praise, a death Vil would be proud of. You’ll lay on the grass, head tilted to the side taking in the setting sun for the last time.

But it won’t be the last thing you’ll see, no, you’ll be blessed to see Vil’s face, pretty eyes and soft locks touching the skin of your cold face. His hands softly holding your chin and with the softest voice, he’ll whisper, “You should never go against your Queen.”

And that will be it for you.

Nothing more than another victim to Neige’s looks and Vil’s unbridled hatred towards the other.

Opening the doors to Pomfiore, your suspicions were only confirmed. No one was in sight. Not the overdramatic students that attempted to fight you and no harsh glares sent your way from the more stuck up ones. Not even Rook, who always greeted you with a hug, was there.

I guess this is the end. You sighed, shaking your head with a heavy heart.

The further you walked into the dorm the darker it grew. Lights slowly dimmed until you were following the lit candles down the hall, up the staircase, down another hall, ultimately ending in front of Vil’s door. Gulping, you leaned your head against the door, hearing nothing by silence.

Maybe I should just turn back? Yeah, my death can wait. Patting yourself on your back, you turned around to leave. But fate had other plans for your poor soul.

In an instant a hand dragged you through Vil’s doors. Another clamping down on your mouth to prevent your scream from alerting others. The door shut with a harsh bang. Panicking, you squirmed in your captor's hold. But he was strong and easily prevented you from elbowing his chest.

You froze the moment lips brushed against your ear. A low whisper echoed in your ear. “Welcome, my trickster.”

Immediately, you slouched in Rooks hold and did the first thing that came to mind.

Licking his hand.

He instantly retreated his hand. A gleeful, amused chuckles escaping his lips. Fixing your sweater, you glared up at him and asked, “Was all that really necessary?”

“Why of course, trickster! I find the way people tense up and squirm quite beautiful.” He winked.

Shuddering, you shoved him lightly and muttered, “You sure are weird.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.”

“Hey, Epel.” You waved, pushing Rook away from you. Sitting on Vil’s stool for his vanity, you asked nervously, remembering why you came in the first place, “S-so what’s gonna happen to me?”

Epel looked at you in confusion. His lips puckered lost at your question. Tilting his head, he mumbled, “What’cha mean?”

Playing with your fingers, you whispered, “W-well about my misdoings?”

Again, Epel looked at you like you grew two heads. Glancing at his lap, then to you, then his lap again, he said confused, “I don’t think ya’ did this?”

“Did what?”

Rook stood beside Epel and held out the fluffy kitten towards you. Irritated violet eyes stared at you. Its small body rocking from Rook’s movements. Its fluffy tail swaying languidly.

“This, my dearest trickster!” Rook said dramatically, bringing the calm kitten up to his face. Squishing it against his cheek, “Our dearest Roi de Poison has turned into a kitten!”

Like glass, you fell to your knees and grasped your shirt. A relieved sigh escaping your lips. Realizing that you’ll get to live another day. “Oh this is so much better than I originally thought.”

Vil came saunting towards your lap and looked at you expectantly. Chuckling, you softly scratched behind his ear. He purred in response.

Epel came to sit beside you and asked, “what in tarnation was goin’ through ya’ head?”

Settling Vil on your lap, you chuckled softly at his content purrs. Shrugging your shoulders you answered “I thought I was going to die.”

Epel made a noise of surprise and worried.

“I know. But it’s not my fault I liked one of Neige’s posts. It was too cute.”

Everything seemed to stop. Silence enveloped the room. No more purrs. Epel’s wide eyes stared at you in shock. Even Rook had nothing to say, but alas you stayed oblivious and continued to talk.

“I thought Vil was gonna have my head for not only liking his post, but following him back on Magicam, haha! I sure do have a- guys, why are you staring at me like that?”

A low hiss caught your attention. Looking down at Vil, you smiled nervously at his narrowed eyes and claws. “Haha, Rook, come get– AHHHHHHHH!!!”

“Oh! Seems like Roi de Poison is angry!”

“Ya’ think?”

“GET HIM OFF ME!!!!”

☆☆☆

⋆ Epel and Rook at to pry, and I mean pry, Vil off your face. He was seething, Rook was laughing, Epel was tired and you were crying. You left with a red scratch up face and an ice pack to help the swelling.

⋆ Vil is your stereotypical cat. Aloof, prissy, high maintenance, knows that he’s better than everyone, basically he’s just himself. And he’s just so fuckin pretty and fluffy. Literally, his fur is so soft, so silky. His is a warm white, with really soft light brown accents on his face, tips of his tail, ears and paws. And the prettiest violet eyes that practically allude mystery and confidence.

⋆ After Vil’s anger, he finds himself hanging by you a lot more. You’re warm and soft, and your hands even more so. Also he knows for a fact that you’re the one making sure Grim looks his best, because Grim sure as hell isn’t putting any extra work into his appearance. So he trusts you to keep up with his new maintenance.

⋆ It’s so much work, and I mean so much work. The water has to be perfect, the towels need to be freshly washed, etcetc. Anything he does for his regular self, needs to be done to his cat self. No you can’t argue, no you can’t give him to Rook to do it for you. He wants you to do it, and only you.

⋆ Don’t even entertain the thought of feeding him tuna, especially tuna from a can. Vil will stick his nose in the air and swat at the food. In the end, you’re like ‘and what am I supposed to feed you, Vil? I’m not exactly made out of money.’

⋆ He comes back an hour later with his credit card in hand and dumps it on your lap then goes to sit on his ledge near the window. His eyes blinked expectantly at you. In the end, you’re buying high quality meat for not only him by for yourself and Grim (or any food really)

⋆ And don’t even think about even setting him on the ground. He vehemently refuses to set foot on the ground. Vil will claw at your arm and clothing to prevent it. Hissing like a madman (mad kitten?) he makes it look and sound like your murdering him.

⋆ In the end you either hold him in your arms, cradling him like a baby, or he’s wearing little booties that you bought/made for him.

⋆ He may walk with those on, but he still refuses to sit on anything other than your lap. And you can’t say otherwise.

⋆ He’s one the few cats that will allow you to dress him. Vil loves the way you coo and gush about how adorable he is. He’ll proudly wear whatever you bought/made for him. Not only does he get to feel like his normal self, but your whole attention is on him and solely him.

⋆ Doesn’t nap a lot, but when he does: Do Not Disturb Him.

⋆ Vil also makes you sleep when he sleeps. Especially during the night. If you have a bad sleeping pattern, he’s fixing that. Vil will sit on your chest or stomach, make himself comfortable and will not move. If you attempt to move him or get up, he’s sticking his nails into your skin as a warning. He wants you to get sleep, it's the least he can do after everything you’ve been doing for him.

⋆ Overall, Vil displays the very typical cat behavior but he gets a pass because he’s pretty (and he’s paying your food bill)

“No wonder you look tired all the time. The time you sleep is outrageous. Hmm? Grim keeps you up? Well why don’t you just sleep here? We have an extra room. Or would you perhaps prefer to sleep alongside me? (chuckles) Spudling, no need to get so flustered. I was only teasing you~”

Idia Shroud <3

“Hey! Ortho! You called me buddy?” You said, walking into the Ignihyde dorm. You shivered at the cold air blasting through the ac. Rubbing your arms, you walked towards Idia room, knowing that Ortho was probably there with his brother.

Knocking on the door, you waited patiently before saying softly, “Idia? Ortho? Is it okay for me to come in?”

Shuffling could be heard on the other side. Ortho’s voice was the only voice you could hear followed by the scampering of paws. Frowning, you knocked again. “Ortho? Buddy, are you alright?”

“Yes! I’m fine! You can come in!” He called.

Opening the door, you walked in casually. Taking note to help Ortho to clean up Idia’s mess. Leaning against a dresser, you watched Ortho who was currently looking underneath the bed. His hands stretched out trying to get something from underneath.

Crouching down behind Ortho, you asked, “So…whatcha reaching for?”

“Idia.”

“What?”

His answer was blunt, straight to the point. A very Ortho response.

Sitting on his knees, he tilted his head and pointed to the bed, “Idia’s under there. Take a look.”

You stared at him questionably. Ortho’s not one to play pranks, and when he does, his pranks are harmless. Shrugging your shoulders, you leaned down to stare into the dark abyss. Slowly your eyes adjusted to the darkness. It smelt bad, but you ignored it the best you could and held your breath.

Seconds ticked by. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Just as you were about to come out for air, a swishing of a tail caught your attention. Staring harder, a pair of bright yellow eyes stared at you in fear.

Without thinking, you caught the creature before it could scamper away. Coming back up you took a deep breath of air and held up the screaming kitten.

“Big brother!” Ortho exclaimed in delight. Taking the kitten from your hands, he cradled Idia in his arms. Murmuring how scared he must have been and how he shouldn’t run away like that.

You merely watched Ortho snuggle into the kitten with amusement. This isn’t the weirdest thing that has happened during your time in Night Raven Academy. You could only assume it was an alchemy assignment gone wrong. Though this was so much better then last week when Ace turned his entire arm into a crab claw. You still had bruises from that.

Reaching your hand out, you scratched Idia behind his ear, “Damn, Idia seems like your an anime heroine for once.”

He meowed in response.

☆☆☆

⋆ Idia, much like his human counterpart, hates being around others. He’s so incredibly shy, but this time it’s so much harder because he’s so quick to hide underneath couches and beds. It’s a miracle he hasn’t gotten smushed.

⋆ That being said, you and Ortho take turns watching Idia. Idia feels comfortable enough around you that he won’t immediately be running to the hilltops.

⋆ Taking care of Idia is definitely the easiest. Besides his hiding problems, he’s not incredibly clinging or high maintenance. All he needs is a place to stay low, food, and a screen.

⋆ Like Leona, he’s pretty long, and like Riddle, he’s incredibly fluffy. If there’s one thing, Idia has over the others, is the fact his eyes look like they glow in the dark. You’re positive that’s not how cats should work, but at the same time cat’s shouldn’t talk (i’m looking at you, grim) nor should they have fiery ears and tail. And no, that's not only a jab at Grim, but also at Idia. Idia’s ears has the fiery flames like Grim and his tail has a little flame at the tip. Grim won’t admit it, but you know he’s jealous.

⋆ You know those pictures of cat’s fitting in the smallest of places? Yeah, that's Idia. In cups, little cracks in the wall of Ramshackle, your shoe to prevent you from leaving. Anywhere that’s empty, expect Idia to be there.

⋆ He sleeps a lot during the day. So he’ll hang out in your sweater or bag, but he much rather prefers to stay in your room.

⋆ During the night, he’s a menace. You know he’s trying to be quiet, but he fails miserably. He’s constantly knocking things over, falling from high places, jumping onto your stomach. It’s a mess, but you can’t really get mad at him. Not when he looks up at you with the widest golden eyes that screams ‘Please don’t be mad.’

⋆ Kitten Idia pretty content with affection. He loves when you scratch behind his ear or when you cuddle him close to his chest. Idia’s purring so damn much, it’s all like damn okay, touch starved much?

⋆ Definitely the chillest kitten you could have. Though beware, he hates bath time. Even more than Grim.

“S-stop staring at me like that. Y-your making me nervous. Huh!? You m–mean that I was…i was…cute! (quietly passes away)”

Malleus Draconia <3

It was calm.

Something that you were having increasingly difficulties in finding these past few days. Staring up at the starry sky, you sighed blissfully. Even though you weren’t familiar with the constellations and such in the dark abyss, you still found beauty in it.

“Is that what Rook means about finding beauty within things?’ You asked out loud. Taking a seat on the grass, you let yourself flop down. Fingers intertwined with the thin threads of grass. Inhaling the cool night air. Admiring the sparkling night.

It was perfect. You felt at peace.

Meow

You blinked, once, twice. You waited for the noise again.

Meow

It was closer this time. Turning your head to the right, you watched as a small black kitten emerged from the thick foliage of the bushes. Said kitten looked all around until its pretty green eyes settled onto you. Jumping, the kitten meowed again and rushed towards you. Falling a few times in the process.

Sitting up, you caught the kitten in time before it could fall onto its face again. Holding it at arm's length, you laughed softly at the kitten’s meows of delight. “And who are you?”

Bringing the kitten closer, you admired its silky ebony fur. Holding its paw between your fingers you melted at its little pink toe beans. The kitten purred in happiness.

“You’re the cutest thing imaginable. Yes, you are.” You cooed softly, cuddling your cheek against its tiny head. The kitten proceeds to nuzzle its nose with yours. You practically squealed in happiness. So cute!

Setting the kitten on your lap, you laughed as the kitten got comfortable on your lap. Staring up at you with its mesmerizing emerald eyes. Scratching behind its ear, you murmured softly, “Y’know, you remind me of someone I know.”

It blinked.

“His name is Malleus. He has black hair like you and the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen. And I mean, pretty pretty. No joke.” pinching its cheek, you murmured playfully, “But he’s not nearly as cute as you.”

The kitten meowed.

Closing your eyes, you fell back on your back and brought the kitten to your chest. Letting it rest on you. Pawing at your chest, the kitten soon settled on you and purred softly.

“I think I’ll call you Malleus Jr. How about it?”

Meow

“Fufufu, I thought the term jr. was given to a child?”

Looking up, you smiled at the bright magenta eyes that twinkled with amusement. “Good evening, Lilia.”

“Hello, little one. I see, Malleus is keeping you company.” Lilia mused, taking a seat beside you. Petting your head, he chuckled, “He was so eager to find you that he disappeared.”

“Lilia, you make no sense.” you breath out, slowly getting up and setting the kitten between you both.

The kitten proceeded to stumble towards Lilia’s outstretched gloved hand and purred loudly. An amused smile on Lilia’s youthful features. Glancing up at you, he grinned, “My child, you really are as oblivious as the rumors.”

“Rumors?! There’s rumors about me?” You gasped, your hand covering your agape mouth.

Chuckling, he nodded, “Tons, but that's not why I’m here.”

“No no, Lilia you gotta tell me now. You can’t just say stuff and not spill.” You pouted.

Placing a finger to his lips, he smiled, “How about we talk about it over a cup of tea?”

Stretching out your hand, you nodded your head, “Deal.” He shook your hand, and you asked another question, “So why are you here?”

“To retrieve Malleus of course.” Lilia said simply. His eyes twinkled in bliss. Pointed to the kitten that suddenly clung onto your hand, he said, “But it appears Malleus has no intentions on leaving his human any time soon. Ah, young love.”

“Wha- Malleus?”

Green eyes glossed over with wonder. With a nod, Malleus jumped onto your lap and made no signs to move.

Sighing, you stared at Lilia and deadpanned, “You’re paying kitten support.”

“Fufufu, why of course~”

☆☆☆

⋆ Okay, I am biased when I say Malleus is probably the best kitten to take care of.

⋆ He’s calm, full of curiosity, incredibly gentle, just really really sweet. Like he’s ten times smaller than you, but still treats you like he’s at his regular height. He’s careful not to hurt you with his claws, careful not to jump too hard on you. Its like he’s the one taking care of you and not the other way around.

⋆ Also, he’s really pretty. He’s like in the top three of prettiest kittens (vil and leona following behind) As mentioned, he has black fur because obviously, with the shiniest, brightest green eyes. Just down right beautiful. Also strands of fur that stick up on the tips of his ears that swoop up that emulate his horns. The cutest.

⋆ He’s ecstatic that he gets to spend time with you. Since he’s a kitten, he gets to go places with you that he normally couldn't. (much to sebek's dismay) Malleus attends class with you, sitting at your side or on the desk. He loves lunches, because he gets to experience what it's like to be a regular student (as regular as you can be as a kitten), to see you, the braincell trio, plus Jack or Epel, all goof around and talk about how hard a test was. He loves seeing your large smile and laughter. Also that head scratches he gets from Deuce or Epel is a plus.

⋆ There's never a dull moment with Malleus, you soon find out. Because this boy is so full of wonder and curiosity, that you can’t help but indulge him. Malleus loves to sit in the basket of your bike, he loves the way the wind pushes through his fur. Most of all, he loves the way your laughter sounds so joyful and bright.

⋆ Malleus, although likes to walk with you, also loves to sit on your shoulder and stare at everyone. Seeing everyone’s emotions and expression. Since every reaction he seems to get in his regular form, are ones of fear and total obedience. So it’s intriguing to Malleus to see all these different emotions, ranging from happiness to despair to rage to nonchalance. Malleus grows a deeper fastiation with humans after.

⋆ He doesn't really take naps, but will if you want to take one. Loves to cuddle into your side or chest.

⋆ Malleus in a very simple way to put it is incredibly gentle and curious. He wants to know so much more about the world, about the people around him and most importantly you. That he’s willing to drink as many kitten transformation potions to be able to experience what it's like to be a regular student and to be able to experience the warmth of your hands on his head once more.

‘My child of man, what do you think of going to Briar Valley with me? Hm? ‘Why’ you ask? Well, to put it simply, I learned a lot while I was a small kitten and that’s because of you. You allowed me to experience the highs and lows of a normal student life. I only want to repay you by allowing you to experience more of the world. Afterall, this campus is quite small.’

#vil x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #vil headcanons #idia headcanons #malleus headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst hcs

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shmaptainwrites · 3 months

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — James has a huge crush on his labmate, the only question is how long will it take him to ask her out? (Answer: it's longer than you think)

WARNINGS — cancer mentions, patient death from cancer, drugs, alcohol (don't be mistaken this fic is tooth-rotting fluff)

NOTE — Okay this fic has come up from my compulsory need to elaborate on anything Canadian so if you ever wanted to see James at McGill, this fic is most definitely for you! Also I guess it's indirectly mentioned that reader was raised in Quebec, but obviously doesn't have to be "Quebecois" for this to work

Pronounciation — Jian = Chyehn

James chewed on the inside of his cheek as he walked up to the Stewart Biological Sciences Building on McGill campus. For some reason, it was so much more intimidating now that he was actually a student. During the tour he had his mother’s reassuring hand on his back, his father’s words of comfort that he would most definitely be accepted when he applied.

Now that he had made it, he had to prove he belonged, but it could have been worse. His friends at Harvard and the University of Toronto had told him so. He was getting the best of both worlds, a prestigious school and, hopefully, not as much pressure as the rest of them.

Without loitering any longer, he made his way inside and looked around to find the right lecture hall. It couldn’t possibly be that hard, could it?

After his first semester James had realized he’d made a few mistakes. One was living in a French speaking part of town without knowing a lick of the language, but that one was the easiest to deal with. The others were more in the realm of the amount of sleep he was getting and underestimating how much content the professors could shove down their throats in 14 weeks.

He was more than happy to return to New Jersey for the holiday break to rest and recuperate before going back to the winter wonderland hell that was Montreal, but this time he was confident he would be more prepared.

And for the most part, he was. He got enough sleep, partied responsibly (except Fridays, he partied hard then), always submitted his work on time and maintained his good GPA, making up for his poor fall semester. What he didn’t expect, however, was a distraction.

When you walked into the room James watched you curiously, he thought maybe he’d seen you somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it. Besides, you were much more interesting than watching his sample boil for another five minutes.

You came and took a seat next to him, taking out your safety goggles and lab notebook from your bag before shoving it under the table.

“You’re sample’s boiling over,” you said, but James didn’t register you were talking to him at first, still looking at you in a slightly dazed manner before you physically pointed to the beaker, making his eyes go wide as he frantically turned down the heat and removed it.

“It’s a wonder you passed the lab safely quiz,” you teased and James blushed.

“Good thing I don’t want to be a chemist.”

“Oh, and what do you want to be then?” you asked, preparing your own sample for boiling.

“A doctor,” he shared with a little more confidence.

“Any specialty in mind or just a doctor,” you said, doing air quotes over the word.

“I’ve been shadowing some of the researchers in the Life Sciences Research Complex and I think oncology might be a good fit for me.”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t have to boil cancer cells you should be fine,” you assured him.

“What about you?” he rolled on the balls of his feet as he continued his experiment. “Or are you all talk?”

“Pfft, you think I’d be here if I was all talk?” you asked. “No, I want to be a medical researcher.”

“Maybe you should do some shadowing in the LSRC then.”

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick to my job there.”

“Your job?” James looked at your wish surprise. “Aren’t you like 18?”

“Almost,” you smiled.

“How did you manage to get a job there? They barely let undergraduates in the labs, let alone be responsible for anything.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” you assured him. “I just do cataloguing for now, but it's a good experience.”

“Still,” he raised his brows, “you must be like a prodigy or something.”

“Again, no,” you shook your head. “Just someone who goes after what she wants.”

There was a comfortable pause where you both took down your distillation set ups and began working on the filtration portion of the experiment.

“So what’s your name, anyways?” you asked, looking over at him. “Hey, look, clamp it this way,” you demonstrated and he followed your lead, seeing how much more stable the glassware was afterwards.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’m James.”

You told him your name and continued your work again in silence.

Chemistry labs quickly became the favourite part of James’ week.

Ever since that lab, James began to see you in all his classes. On more than a few occasions, he’d had to steal notes from his friends on account of forgetting to pay attention. It became an easy thing to tease him about, so his friends began calling him heart-eyes, because who was he kidding, he had a crush.

“Get your head out of your ass, heart-eyes, I am not giving you my notes again,” his friend, Carlo, shoved his arm and whispered harshly as he could see him getting distracted.

“Sorry,” James shook his head and began scribbling down what he had missed, his eyes darting back and forth from the board and back to you.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Pierre asked him after class. “Don’t you talk all the time in the lab?”

“More like I stare at her and she says stuff to make it not awkward,” he cringed at his own actions. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time I’m with her I can’t string together a sentence, and– Jesus Christ you should have seen my face last week! Full on red, like I can’t even be subtle about it!”

“Yikes,” Jian grimaced.

“It’s bad, I know,” James assured.

“And this is why we call you heart-eyes,” Carlo patted James on the back.

“Yeah, say it a little louder, maybe she’ll hear you,” James said sarcastically.

“Who’ll hear you?” the group of boys heard a voice behind them and all their eyes went wide as they spun around and saw you.

“No one!” Jian was quick to answer in the least nonchalant way possible, making the rest of the group, especially James, stare daggers at him.

“It’s not no one,” Carlo attempted to save face. “Just… this girl back in uh New Jersey that James’ got the hots for,” he gained confidence with every word of the sentence before adorning a smug smile on his face and patting James yet again on the back.

“You’re afraid a girl in New Jersey will hear you?” you looked curiously at James but he just stared blankly at you. “So you call him heart-eyes?” you instead turned your attention to his friends and they nodded. “That’s cute, maybe I’ll call you that too.”

“Sure,” was all a red faced James could get out before you excused yourself to head over to work.

Pierre was trying very hard to keep a straight face while you walked away and James slapped both Carlo and Jian upside the head.

“What the hell was that! Could you not have been more obvious, Jian? And Carlo, a girl back in New Jersey? Now she thinks I’m pining for someone else!”

“On the plus side, maybe she’ll think all your blushing around her is a circulation issue,” Pierre shrugged.

“You guys are the worst,” James shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, continuing to walk along the path to one of the libraries.

“No, we just saved your ass,” Carlo caught up with him. “However terribly, but if we didn’t say anything you would have stared at her with your mouth open like a trout.”

“Carlo does have a point,” Jian agreed, “At least we bought you a little time to get your act together.”

James sighed, “You guys have too much faith in me.”

“You said that when I started to teach you French and you’ve come a long way with that,” Pierre said.

“Yeah, sure I went from saying nothing to being able to say Je m'appelle James et je ne parle pas français.”

“And what a handy sentence that is when you don’t speak French!” Pierre grinned and James couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head.

“Okay, I’ll try and get my act together and ask her out…and learn more French.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlo patted his back. “Now let’s go get a drink and relax.”

“Maybe after we study for our physics midterm?” James nudged his friend and Jian nodded his head in agreement.

“Fine, I guess if we have to,” Carlo sighed.

“Not everyone is naturally good at kinematics, Carlo. Take pity on us mere mortals who have to study,” Pierre responded, eliciting a chuckle from his buddies.

James was quiet as he thought to himself. If he could get a B on this physics test, maybe there was hope for him getting his act together after all.

—

Summer break rolled around faster than James had expected. While Jian went back to Richmond, Pierre over to Quebec City, and Carlo to Chicago, James was left alone in Montreal, working to help pay his tuition for the next year. Being an international student was no joke.

He would have gone back to New Jersey, but the positions he applied to in Montreal paid more so it wasn’t a hard decision to make.

His parents would come visit him for some time in July, but for the most part he was alone.

On late nights, he’d make his way to the McDonald’s in the neighbourhood, not knowing enough French to go anywhere else nearby. At least there, most of them spoke enough English to take his order, and if not it was really easy to point to the menu.

“It’s already done?” he asked.

“Give us some credit, hein. We knew you were coming, we had it ready.”

James chuckled and handed him the money for the order, exchanging it for the bag which he took to a table and sat down.

As he was pulling out his fries from his bag he heard the chime of the door and looked up curiously to see who was coming at this time of night.

He stopped what he was doing when he recognized you, watching as you dug through your purse and spoke to the cashier in French. You both laughed about something James couldn’t quite catch and a little while later, after you had paid they handed you a bag and an ice cream cone when James heard you say something about ‘deux cuillères’ taking the utensils they gave you and turing straight towards James’ table, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down.

“I thought you lived in New Jersey,” you said.

James was still stunned that you had noticed him and couldn’t find the words to speak.

“Hey, heart-eyes?” you waved your hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” he nodded, distracting himself by pulling out his burger from his bag.

“So why aren’t you in Jersey?” you asked.

“Work. I got a job here, it paid better.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully while eating some of your fries. “And all your friends?”

“Back with their families, unfortunately for me,” he nodded. “W-What about you?”

“Oh, I live here,” you shrugged. “In this neighbourhood actually.”

“You live here?” he asked.

“That’s what I said,” you nodded.

“And so that’s how you know French?”

“Every kid in Quebec learns French, it’s kind of a non-negotiable,” you shared. “I gather that’s why you’re eating here.”

“Yeah, Pierre didn’t manage to teach me enough before he left,” he sighed and started to eat his meal.

“I could teach you if you want. I’m taking a little break this summer so I have some spare time,” you offered.

“Oh, I don’t want to-,”

“James, you’re gonna have a shitty summer if you don’t say yes.”

He couldn’t argue with that, it would be nice to communicate more with the people who lived around him.

“Okay, sure, but I’m warning you, I’m a terrible student.”

“I used to tutor one of my siblings, trust me it can’t be worse than that,” you laughed.

You chatted a little more, finishing your meals but not before you handed James a spoon.

“So this is cuillère then?” he asked. “I-I overheard you talking to Jean.”

“Yeah, your pronunciation isn’t bad either,” you nodded. “Here.”

You pushed the ice cream cone between you and began to eat it with the spoon. James had a bit of a sweet tooth and wouldn’t be one to refuse dessert so he began to share the ice cream cone with you.

“So, are you missing your girl in New Jersey?” you asked and James cursed internally, trying to come up with a lie to tell you.

“Um, no not really,” he shook his head. “I don’t think we would have worked out anyways.”

“Oh, so are your friends still calling you heart-eyes?”

He nodded his head, thinking it was better not to say anything in case he gave himself away.

“It’s good that you recognized you wouldn’t work out before you asked her out,” you said, “Couple guys wanted to go on dates with me this year, but just didn’t seem like the right fit. Plus, I don’t really think I’m looking for anything like that right now.”

James nodded his head again, silently eating the ice cream.

“Ever been in love, James?” you asked.

“That’s a really loaded question to ask someone you cornered in a McDonald’s at 11 P.M.”

You ignored his response and continued,

“I haven’t, it seems like such a big thing, how would you even know if it was love?”

James looked up at the ceiling, silently asking God to not let him say something stupid,

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first.”

“So you have been in love,” you confirmed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I…I don’t know. Maybe I have.”

“That’s not a very straightforward answer.”

“Then maybe I haven’t. I feel like if it was love, you’d figure it out, eventually.”

You pursed your lips and nodded your head.

“I hope I get to fall in love,” you smiled softly to yourself. “Seems nice.”

“Yeah,” James agreed. “It does.”

—

A few years later…

“So how did it go?” Jian asked, as they sat around James’ small living room.

“It…could have been better,” James sucked in some air through his teeth, recalling a recent memory from earlier that afternoon.

“What the fuck James! You scared the shit out of me! I could have broken the hemocytometer, do you know how much that shit costs?!”

“Sorry!” James quickly apologized and dropped his books down on the nearest surface to help you clean up, making you look up again at him with disdain.

“In the BSC? Really? Now we have to resterilize and all the specimens I have in there are as good as compromised.”

“Shit,” James muttered under his breath, he was usually so much better in the lab, but the second he was with you he became a bumbling mess. “I-I’ll take care of the BSC, I’m so sorry.”

You sighed and removed your gloves, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’s not just boiling water we’re dealing with anymore, James,” you said a little more calmly than before. “You’ve gotta be more careful, okay? I’m not losing my job over this.”

James nodded his head and went to grab the things to sterilize the biological safety cabinet and grab the new specimen from the fridge. So much for trying to get a job at LSRC to impress you.

“I was not built to be a researcher,” James shook his head.

“I mean, it’s not that big of a screw up, you fixed it eventually, didn’t you?” Pierre asked.

“Yeah, but not until after a thorough amount of embarrassment.”

“I thought girls found clumsy guys endearing,” Carlo commented.

“Not when the girl is determined to become the leading medical researcher on the continent,” James sighed. “Maybe taking this job was a bad idea. From what I can see she hasn’t even changed her opinion on dating, she hasn’t been with anyone these past three years.”

“Do you hear that?” Carlo removed his feet from the coffee table and placed them on the ground. “You’ve been in love with her for three years and haven’t done anything about it.”

“Who said I was in love with her? And sure, maybe I haven’t made a move, but I learnt French!” James tried to defend himself, pointing to Pierre.

“That’s not as good of a comeback as you think it is,” Pierre shook his head.

“I know,” James hung his head low and sat on the couch between Pierre and Jian. “We’re gonna graduate in a year and she’s not gonna know I’m in love with her.”

“So you are in love with her?” Jian looked over at his friend sympathetically.

James leaned back and used the heels of his palms to cover his eyes.

“He’s gonna have a meltdown, don’t ask him that,” Pierre shook his head.

“God, I do love her!” he exclaimed like he was just finding it out for the first time himself.

“What did I say,” Pierre sighed.

“Can I make it stop?” James looked over at his friends who all shrugged. “I am so screwed.”

“This time, I think we agree with you,” Carlo took a sip of his drink. “Good luck, man.”

James squeezed his eyes shut, he would definitely need it.

—

The year passed to graduation and James was still sitting on his feelings. It was much too late now to say anything. You’d already been accepted to a graduate program through your work with the LSRC and James had passed his MCAT with flying colours and was on his way to medical school at Columbia.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was going to miss Montreal, the city had grown on him during his time there and a part of him wished he could stay.

His friends were also ready for the next stages in their studies, all going to different places across the continent to get their other degrees, with, of course, the promise to stay in touch.

James didn’t know what the next little bit of his life had in store for him, but he hoped regardless of where he ended up, maybe he’d be able to make up for his missed opportunities.

The years of medical school, once started, passed faster than James expected them to, and by the end of it, much to his own surprise, he’d also gotten married.

You were almost all but forgotten in the back of his mind, but time continued to play its games.

Medical school turned into a specialization in oncology, and a divorce. Then residency and a marriage. Then a second divorce. Then another marriage and more recently a position at a hospital in his hometown, on the board and a well respected oncologist and a few new friends…and a third divorce.

“House, I’m not asking you to let them all sleep in your apartment, it’s just a dinner for one night, we’ll be out and about for the rest of the time that they’re here,” James sighed.

“Can’t you just cancel?” House asked. “Divorce seems like a pretty good reason to get out of a reunion.”

“See, the thing is, I’d rather not be miserable and see my friends instead, and they bought their tickets months ago. Please, House, I’ll do the dishes for a week.”

“A month,” House said.

“Two weeks,” James negotiated and House nodded, so they shook on it.

“Good, now that I’ve done you a favour, you can do me one,” House smiled, but the kind of smile that was conniving, like he had something up his sleeve all along.

“I paid you in chores for my favour, who says I owe you anything?”

“Unless you want me to call your friends and cancel for you, you’ll do it,” House continued to walk the hospital’s hallways hobbling with his cane.

“What is it?” James sighed, catching up with him.

“We have a patient and he doesn’t speak very good English, but he does speak French. You went to McGill didn’t you? Must have picked up some of the love language.”

“Unfortunately for me in this case, I did,” he nodded.

“Perfect, come with me now,” House motioned with his head to the patient’s room and James trailed behind him.

When he entered the room, House motioned for him to begin speaking. James hadn’t spoken a lot of French since his undergrad so he was definitely rusty, but he supposed it was better than nothing and began to explain that he would be helping with the translation.

“Erm, Bonjour, je suis Dr. Wilson, je vais aider Dr. House avec la traduction.”

The man looked at James strangely before saying.

“You’re an anglophone, but you speak French like you’re Quebecois.”

“I um did my undergraduate in Montreal, I learnt how to speak there,” James responded back in French.

“Hmm.”

James could tell this wasn’t going to be fun. Some of the French held quite a bit of hate towards Quebec, who knew why, but his accent definitely wasn’t going to help him in this situation.

House got James to ask some routine medical history questions and a few things about his symptoms all the while James had to filter out all the insults that were coming his way with regards to his “poor use of language” and “unintelligible accent”.

When he could finally leave the room, James let out a string of French curses under his breath, still thinking in the other language.

“House, why can’t you just get a proper translator?” he asked. “I’m terrible at this.”

“Cuddy said something about making a big purchase recently and being currently unable to do so, especially since you put that you speak French in your resume. Bet you’re regretting that one now.”

“Yeah,” James nodded his head. “Big time.”

They began to walk towards the elevator to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when James decided to inquire more about Cuddy’s big purchase.

“Oh, she said something about money this, medical research that,” House shook his head, “You know I stopped listening the second she wouldn’t give me what I wanted.”

“She hired a medical researcher,” James said aloud, chewing on the words, “I wonder who she-,”

His train of thought was cut off when he saw, near the elevator, a face he hadn’t seen since graduation day at McGill.

Quickly, unable to think of anything else to do, he ran into the administrative area and hid crouched down behind a photocopier.

House watched his friend curiously before walking over towards him and leaning against the copier asked him if he’d gone insane.

“No, I just, um, remembered I needed to copy some patient files,” he lied.

“You don’t have any with you,” House said.

“I faxed them from my office,” he lied again.

“I think I need to go get Foreman, clearly you’re having a neurological breakdown,” House said.

“Can you just stop making it obvious I’m here?!” James exclaimed in a whisper.

Unfortunately for him, as you were walking past, his harsh whisper made his location obvious, causing you to look down and see his familiar face.

“Oh my God, heart-eyes, is that you?” you asked with a smile and James pressed his lips in a thin line and nodded. “What are you doing down there?”

James became speechless and suddenly he was an eighteen-year-old back in his chemistry lab.

“He’s checking to see if we need more toner,” House said, lying for his friend, but James knew that was all he would get out of him. “Well, that’s my cue to leave, you guys have fun.”

You reached down and offered James a hand, helping him back into a standing position.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” you commented. “Like since we were-,”

“22,” James filled in and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you bit your lip before asking him how he had been.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I-I’m assuming you’re the medical researcher Cuddy hired?”

“That would be correct,” you smiled.

“Why did you choose to work here? I thought you were some big hotshot in Canada?”

“I am a big hotshot, which is why I wanted to come to a teaching hospital. I thought maybe it would give more opportunities to teach other people what I know. It’s a win-win. I get to do what I want to and the hospital gets grant money from my research,” you explained. “It looks like you got where you wanted to be too, Mr. Oncologist.”

“Actually it’s Dr. Oncologist,” he joked and you laughed, making his cheeks go red after hearing the sound.

“I missed having you around, James. We should catch up sometime,” you suggested.

“Yeah sure,” he nodded. “I-I’d love that.”

You excused yourself, needing to go introduce yourself to a class of medical students, waving goodbye to James, leaving him stuck in his tracks for a few moments before he could gather his senses again and head downstairs for lunch.

—

“We could have rescheduled if this was too much, man,” Carlo watched James as he brought a large roast to the table for them to eat.

“See? What did I tell you,” House rolled his eyes and James gave him a disapproving stare.

“No, I wanted you guys to come, we’ve been planning this for months. I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of it,” he assured his friends. “Plus, we know how hard it is to nail down Pierre, I swear you are always travelling. Every time we talk you’re in a different country.”

“That’s the life of a parasitologist,” he shrugged and helped James by beginning to cut the roast.

“And Jian, how’s the wife and kids?”

“They’re good,” Jian smiled. “Mei started first grade in September. Becky and I are both up for promotions at the hospital, so I can’t really complain. Although I think Carlo can.”

“Seriously it’s not that big of a deal,” Carlo groaned, “Sure yeah, pharmaceuticals are more flashy than biophysics, but that doesn’t mean that my research wasn’t better.”

“Well if it was better why did William get the award?” James asked and Carlo just flipped him the bird.

“Didn’t we go to school with him?” Pierre asked.

“We did?” James raised a brow.

“Yeah, for a year, from Toronto, huge stoner. Hated being there and did literally no work, but still managed to get honours,” Jian explained.

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” House commented and James rolled his eyes.

Just as they continued to dish out dinner, House’s pager went off and he sighed, excusing himself from the table while practically threatening James to leave him some food.

When House left, James’ friends saw their opening and began their personal line of questioning.

“Hey, James, are you really okay?” Jian asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” James asked in return.

“You’re getting a divorce,” Pierre said. “Seems like a pretty good reason to not be okay.”

James shook his head,

“Yeah sure, it’s a shitty situation,” he admitted. “Did I imagine myself at this point in my life with three failed marriages? No, definitely not. Can I do anything to change it? Also no, and right now I really wouldn’t want to change it.”

“Can we ask what happened?” Carlo queried.

“She cheated on me, then left me,” James said simply.

“Forgive me,” Pierre said. “But you seemed a lot more upset when we talked over the phone last week. What changed?”

James looked down at his plate and cut into his roast, thinking about what Pierre had said. It was true, even earlier today he was sulking about, that was until he ran into you.

“I swear,” James started, “if you guys make a big deal about this I will murder you all,” he used his knife to point at all of them and they nodded, swearing their silence. “I’ve got heart-eyes again.”

“You met someone new?” Jian asked and Carlo shook his head.

“No, he re-met someone old. Tell me, did your hospital recently hire a medical researcher?”

James nodded his head and the table was about to erupt into a loud chorus of comments when James gave them a look and they all restrained themselves.

“James, I’m being dead serious when I say this, but you should have married her,” Pierre insisted. “I never saw you look at anyone else the way you looked at her.”

“Probably explains the three divorces then, doesn’t it? I was still in love with her the whole time,” James sighed. “It’s going to come up eventually, seems like a pretty big indicator that I’m not good at relationships.”

“Who knows, maybe she won’t care,” Jian offered.

“What was it like when you saw her again?” Carlo asked, looking for any opportunity to tease his friend.

“How do you think it was? I could barely talk, I was a nervous wreck, and blushing like crazy,” he shook his head at the thought of it. “I could literally feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I feel like a middle school girl every time I’m near her.”

“Who knows, maybe she still thinks you have circulation issues,” Jian shrugged and the table laughed.

“What I would give to stay here and watch this play out,” Carlo sighed and leaned back in his seat.

“Knowing James, you’d have to be here for ten years before he made a move on her,” Pierre raised a brow and James threw a piece of potato at him.

“If you ever do get the guts to ask her out, call us. We’ve made bets on this,” Carlo added.

“Real comforting, guys,” James ate a bite of the roast. “I thought this was supposed to be my pity party.”

“Not anymore,” Jian shook his head. “You’ve got heart-eyes.”

This time around, James thought maybe he didn’t mind the nickname as much as he used to.

—

“I would think they’d get you your own office at this point,” James commented as he entered his office, seeing you sitting at his desk, eating a pre-packed lunch.

“Beats me,” you shrugged and continued to eat.

“So you’ve decided that invading my office is your next best bet?”

“Oh hush,” you waved him off with your fork.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to come to a safe place after being verbally assaulted by House’s patient,” he sat on the opposite side of the desk and leaned back in the chair.

“Verbally assaulted?” you asked. “By a patient who isn’t even your own?”

“He doesn’t like the way I speak French,” James rolled his eyes. “I’m translating while they’re treating him since the department used all its money hiring you.”

“What can I say, hotshots cost a lot of money.”

“You know, you could do the translation, probably much better than I can,” he noted.

“I could, but you probably need the practice more than I do, chèri,” you scrunched your nose in a cute mocking way and James could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks yet again. “You still keeping up with that posse of yours?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, they all flew in to visit a few days ago, we’re gonna go out tonight,” he said. “Do you…maybe want to join us?” he suggested.

“I don’t have plans, as long as they’re okay with it I’d love to come,” you smiled.

“Oh trust me, they will definitely be okay with it.”

—

Later that night, James was drinking deeply from his glass while he watched his friends stare blankly ahead at you. If he looked anything like they did all those times his words were caught in his throat, then he hoped to spontaneously combust right then and there.

“Heart-eyes, I thought you said they were okay with me coming?” you leaned over and whispered to him.

James put down his glass and nodded his head.

“They are okay with it, right?”

Snapping out of their daze, the three men nodded their heads and finally began professing assurances that everything was fine.

“It’s just… you said James invited you?” Jian asked with furrowed bows.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He mentioned you guys were in town and getting together tonight and asked me if I wanted to join.”

James bit down on his tongue trying not to say anything, but also gave his friends a look to shut up before they gave anything away. He knew what was running through their minds, they were wondering how the hell he’d gotten the guts to ask you to come, but there was one fundamental difference between tonight and any other time he could have possibly asked you. This wasn’t a date, therefore, there was no pressure.

“Maybe you could tell them what you’ve been up to since they last saw you?” James suggested.

“Oh, um, well, I got my master’s degree and doctorate at McGill, both for research in cancer biology-,”

“Cancer biology?” Pierre interrupted. “I don’t remember you mentioning you were interested in that.”

“I-I wasn’t initially,” you admitted. “Just after spending more time in the LSRC and a few other irrelevant things I decided it was the best fit for me to focus on.”

“You and heart-eyes make a pretty good pair then,” Carlo raised his eyebrows suggestively and took a sip of his drink.

“I guess we do,” you chuckled. “As long as he leaves the research to me. We all know what he’s like in the lab.”

“I resent that,” James protested only before saying, “but I do deserve it.”

“It’s a miracle he hasn’t had a medical malpractice suit,” Pierre added.

You asked the boys about where their various careers had taken them and how they were each doing. The conversation stayed pretty normal until the topic changed to relationships, starting with Jian’s wife and family back in Vancouver and Pierre’s husband who was currently in Australia doing research on some massive insect.

“What about you Carlo?” you asked. “Anyone special in your life?”

“Nah,” he waved his hand.

“What about the mom of the kid who pet sits for you?” Jian asked.

“That kid charges me per animal, per size. If I were to date his mom he’d probably charge me for dating her too, and I don’t think I can afford his price,” he shook his head and the table laughed.

“James, you’ve been quiet,” you said. “Nothing to share?”

James nervously took a sip of his drink and looked over at his friends for help.

“James hasn’t had the best luck in love,” Pierre settled on.

“Oh, haven’t found anybody, that’s not a big deal,” you assured him. “I haven’t either.”

“Well,” Carlo said in a high-pitched voice. “It’s not exactly that he hasn’t found anybody.”

“So there’s someone-?”

“I’m divorced,” James blurted. “Three times. Or soon to be three anyway.”

“Oh,” you paused and tried to think of the right thing to say, but for the moment settled on nothing while Pierre changed the subject.

After the visit was over, James offered to walk you to your car and you accepted. The walk started off in silence, but you decided to break it.

“You know, I hope you find the right person eventually,” you said. “It’s unfortunate things didn’t work out three times.”

“Yeah,” James nodded in agreement. “I-um, do you ever think about that conversation we had, in the McDonald’s by my apartment?”

“Sometimes I do,” you admitted.

“Looking back on that, I wonder if we ever really loved each other. If we did this probably wouldn’t have happened. We would have fixed things, worked on ourselves instead of just…giving up.”

“So I guess you still haven’t fallen in love yet?” you asked, but he stayed silent. “Whoever it is, I’m sure things will find a way to work out for you.”

“The moment may have passed on that,” he said with his hands shoved in his pockets and looking down at the ground.

“You never know, James. Sometimes life has a funny way of surprising you.”

—

James watched as his colleagues and a few of the students from the university left the lecture hall while he continued to sit in his seat, watching you walk up towards him.

“Don’t you have patients or something?” you asked. “You’re at all of my lectures.”

“Doesn’t it seem appropriate for an oncologist to attend a cancer biology lecture?” he asked as you sat down next to him.

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “Doesn’t explain why you weren’t taking notes though.”

James looked down at his empty hands and cursed a little internally.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I don’t mind the staring, it reminds me of school.”

“You noticed?” he asked.

“You weren’t very subtle,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, not one of my strong suits,” he blushed, embarrassed.

“Do you wanna go grab lunch before your break is over?” you asked and James nodded, standing up and offering you a hand to get out of your seat.

You went to the cafeteria, running into his friend House who managed to get his food paid for by James, yet again, before leaving to go back up to his office and work on another differential diagnosis with his employees.

“Did all the guys get back home safe after their trip?” you asked, digging into your food.

“Carlo and Jian are back home, Pierre went to go be with Ollie in Australia.”

“It must be hard not living near them.”

James sighed and nodded his head. “It’s a balance. When they’re being annoying, it’s great that they don’t live here and when they’re not, it sucks.”

“Spoken like a true friend,” you chuckled.

“What about you? Do you still keep in touch with people from school? During any of your degrees?”

“Not really,” you shook your head. “After my undergrad I became so laser focused on my school I didn’t pay attention to relationships that much outside of my family. Starting to regret it a bit now.”

“Kind of hard to have a good conversation with cancer cells,” James said sarcastically and you shook your head. “Do you like it in New Jersey so far?”

“Not as much as back home,” you admitted, “but it is nice to have a friend here.”

“Yeah, Jersey is…an acquired taste,” he settled on, making you laugh, but your laughter was cut off by the sound of his pager, and he looked down to see what the message was before quickly standing up. “Sorry, I have to-,”

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “I’ll pack up your food and bring it to your office.”

“Thanks,” he nodded and you waved goodbye as he ran off out of the cafeteria and to the oncology floor to go help one of his patients.

—

James didn’t find himself walking around the campus often, but when he did it was usually because he had to clear his head. With everything that was going on in his life, in addition to the circumstances of this case, he was taking it harder than normal.

He had left his coat in his office as the hot New Jersey sun was already beating down, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes following his feet as he took his steps forward.

He didn’t notice you sitting on a bench as he was passing by. Curious as to his state, you stood up and went to meet up with him.

“Hey James, are you okay?”

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts almost instantly. He stopped to look up at you, seeing the concern reflecting in your eyes.

He took his hands out of his pockets and motioned for you to walk with him.

“I lost a patient today,” he explained. “He was 11.”

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

“In med school you learn pretty quickly if you don’t find a way to deal with what you face every day the result is never good,” he said and you noticed him chewing on the inside of his cheek, “but it was just too sunny outside. How could it be sunny on a day like this?”

You didn’t say anything initially, only intertwining your hand with his and giving it a light squeeze which he returned.

“You know, I think it’s probably okay, every once in a while, to let yourself mourn your patients. Just like everyone else. You have a uniquely difficult job, James, and no one would hold it against you if you need a minute to adjust.”

James stopped walking and you followed his lead, only to have him let go of your hand and pull you into a tight hug. You easily wrapped your arms around his neck while his arms were around your waist.

“You’re a good doctor, James,” you mumbled. “I know, even if you don’t quite believe it right now, you did everything you could to help that young boy and make him more comfortable.”

You could feel him nod his head, clearly not trusting himself to say anything at the moment.

Neither of you wanted to let go, but you knew that you both had work to get back to. James had other patients he was responsible for and you had some work to do in one of the hospital labs.

So silently, hand in hand, you accompanied each other back to the hospital, grateful for each other’s company.

—

“I swear, if I stay there any longer I’m going to go mad,” James whispered to you under his breath as you walked along the halls of the hospital with him to help him run some tests for a few patients.

“What was it this time?” you asked, huddling in closer, waiting for him to spill the beans on why living with his best friend was becoming unbearable.

“He keeps pranking me,” he began to explain and you could see how frustrated he was just by his hand movements. “Last night he thought of the genius idea to put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping and-,” James stopped himself, realizing he’d divulged too much, just as your eyes went wide.

“Oh my God you didn’t wet the bed did you?” you asked in a chuckle and James quickly covered your mouth saying,

“Shh! The whole hospital doesn’t need to hear you!”

You couldn’t hold in your laugh, muffled by James’ hand over your mouth and his cheeks were a bright cherry red.

Eventually you pulled his hand away and said,

“You definitely need to get out of there. That’s criminal.”

“Exactly what I’m saying,” James agreed.

“Hey, why don’t you come over to my place tonight?” you suggested. “We can watch a movie or something together.”

“That sounds like exactly what I need right now,” he nodded his head. “What time?”

“Come over at eight, it’ll give me some time to get snacks and get ready.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he held out his hand and you took it shaking it firmly.

Later that evening while James was getting ready, House watched him curiously.

“I still don’t believe that you blowdry your hair,” he said loudly over the sound of the appliance.

“Believe it or not, I do,” James responded.

“It just seems so pointless, your hair is messy anyways,” he crossed his arms and James gave him a look.

“My hair looks fine, yours on the other hand could use a trim and about a billion other things,” James retorted.

“So, is this a date?” House asked, changing the topic.

“No, it’s not a date,” James shook his head. “It’s an opportunity for me to get away from your insanity.”

“Are you sure it’s not a date?” he asked.

“What makes you think it's a date?” he finally gave in and turned around to face his friend, turning off the blow dryer.

“Well if you asked her if you could come over, probably not a date, but if she offered…” he shrugged his shoulders.

James shook his head, he didn’t want to allow himself to believe it was true, because if it was, he’d probably overthink things and make a fool of himself.

“It’s not a date,” he reiterated and House stopped pressing, seeing as his friend would not be reasoned with.

James finished fixing his hair and grabbed his keys and a coat before stepping out of the door.

It didn’t take him long to drive to your house and when he knocked at the door he heard shuffling inside before the lock clicked and you opened it.

“Hey! You got the dress code memo,” you joked, pointing to his McGill sweater and then back at yours.

“I thought you might like a blast from the past,” he smiled and you invited him inside.

As he entered he noticed the array of pillows on the couch, blankets draped over arm chairs, and books piled on every surface possible. To top it off, the house was currently only lit by lamps allowing a warm orange hue to fall over the space. It made James’ shoulders relax and he could even feel his nervous heart rate slow.

“Do you like it?” you asked. “I am by no means an interior decorator, but I tried to make it feel cozy so it’s nice to come back to after long days at work.”

“I do like it,” James nodded. “A lot. It feels like a home.”

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I was going for,” you smiled. “You’re the first guest I’ve had here, you know?”

“Really? No fancy dinner parties with the hospital board?”

“No, not yet,” you chuckled. “Unfortunately, this guy in the oncology department keeps taking up all my time.”

You grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch.

“But don’t worry, I don’t mind.”

After he took off his coat, you both sat down next to each other, James extending his hand along the back of the couch and you naturally sat right up next to him, leaning forward to grab the remote and turn on the movie.

“What did you pick?” James asked.

“Just some random horror movie,” you said. “I heard it’s really cheesy.”

“We’ll see about that,” James raised his brows and grabbed the popcorn from the table, putting it in between you both.

You pressed play once you were both settled and tossed the remote to the side of the couch, curling your legs up and waiting in anticipation for the movie to begin.

It didn’t take long for the horror plot to begin, jumping right into the satanic murders and supernatural deaths. Just as you had predicted, it was cheesy, but that didn’t stop you from being startled whenever something popped up unexpectedly on the screen.

Both of you were lulled into a false sense of security during what seemed like a quiet part of the movie, then, all of a sudden, the killer jumped into the frame with a loud change in the soundtrack, causing you to shriek and move towards James, also feeling him jump slightly from being startled.

You both looked up at each other and laughed at the ridiculousness of your collective fright.

“You’re supposed to be the calm one,” you elbowed him.

“I know it just-Jesus!” James found himself inadvertently closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you as if it would give him some protection from what was on the screen.

You laughed again and leaned closer into his side, patting his leg to assure him it was safe to open his eyes again.

“You must enjoy torturing me, that’s the only explanation for this,” James looked over at you and you shook your head.

“Come on, heart-eyes, you think that lowly of me?”

James couldn’t stop the smile that creeped past his lips, “No, of course not.”

“Good, that means I still have the upper hand,” you moved your head to look back at the TV, but not before James tickled you in retaliation for your words.

It took a moment, but you eventually surrendered and moved your focus back to the movie, still feeling a little warm from your laughter.

You grabbed some of the other candies and snacks from the table, holding a gummy bear up for James to try and he did without so much as a second thought.

“Still have a sweet tooth I see,” you offered him a different candy which he ate again and nodded.

“You don’t want to know how many cavities I’ve had.”

“Here,” you handed him a wrapped treat. “This one’s special from home.”

“Maple candies,” he smiled. “They don’t make ‘em like they do in Montreal.”

“They were your favourite, right?” you asked.

James looked over at you again curiously, “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did,” you shrugged. “Oh wait, look,” you pointed to the TV before grimacing and covering your eyes, but still peeking through your fingers. “Ew!”

James just smiled at you, finding it harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss you, the thought bringing a warm sensation to his stomach.

He settled instead on doing what he’d been doing forever: staring at you with heart-eyes.

—

James tried to fight a yawn as he grabbed one of the many books on the shelves in his office, taking it to his couch and sitting down next to you.

“You don’t have to do this, James,” you told him. “You probably have to be back tomorrow morning, you should go home and rest.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “You look in here for that article I was telling you about and I’ll start proofreading.”

There were many papers and files strewn around the couch, you couldn’t remember when you first came in, but James never seemed to mind when you worked in his office instead of your own.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I feel like I brought a tornado in here.”

James looked up from your paper and nodded his head.

“Now hush and let me read.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckled, opening the medical journal he had handed you, flipping through the contents until you found the article title he had mentioned.

James had a pen in his hand, scribbling down annotations on the side, correcting a few typos and grammatical errors.

For the most part, he was able to follow along, but at one point, the words became so incoherent he tapped you to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“What does this say here?” he asked. “I-I don’t know if my eyes just stopped working, but what does stirring in sugar and eggs have to do with this trial treatment?”

“Oh my God,” you grabbed the paper and looked at it closer. “I must have accidentally copied some of my mom’s cookie recipe on here before changing documents. What in the world is going on with me?”

Maybe it was the exhaustion settling in or some other things James couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he felt himself letting out a chuckle that grew a little longer, and longer until it was a full blown laugh.

It was an honest mistake, and arguably not that funny, but you’d be hard pressed to convince him of that in that moment, and instead, seeing the silliness of the situation, you joined in.

Eventually, when the laughter died down, you and James both leaning far back against the couch, he turned to you and apologized.

“I’m sorry, I should probably read this when I have a bit more sanity.”

“Don’t be,” you patted his leg. “I can always use a good laugh.”

With your heads still turned to face each other, you suggested to pause the work and resume it another time, to which James agreed.

You both continued to sit there in silence, looking over at each other and James caught a glimmer of something in your eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure it was still there. It was a soft look, a little dazed, like you were happily daydreaming about something far off. It took him a moment to realize it, since he had been the one giving that look, he’d never really had a chance to see it for himself.

You had heart-eyes.

And more importantly, you had them while you were looking at James.

With a sudden boost of courage, fuelled by lowered inhibitions, he started by asking,

“Have I ever told you why my friends call me heart-eyes?”

You tilted your head a little, following his lead and sitting up straight.

“Wasn’t it because of that girl you had a crush on that was from here?”

James opened his mouth and then shut it, shaking his head.

“There was never a girl from Jersey,” he admitted.

“Why would they say it was a girl from Jersey if there was…” as you said the sentence you slowed down, the realization dawning on you.

“All the staring makes a bit more sense now?” he asked.

You blinked a few times, “I just thought you were really awkward,” you said.

“I was, but if the staring didn’t give it away the blushing really should have done it,” he chuckled.

“I thought you had a circulation issue!” you exclaimed and James burst out laughing, of course you did. “God, James, why didn’t you say anything?”

James shook his head, “I could barely string out a coherent sentence when I was around you. Makes it a little hard to say anything.”

“Makes me wish I had said something,” you said, feeling your own cheeks heat up at the admission.

“Y-You would’ve said something?”

Now it was James’ turn to be surprised.

“I think most of the time it comes on gradually, maybe you won’t even know it at first. That’s what you said to me, but that eventually, if it was love, I’d know it.”

You reached out and held James’ hands in your own.

“I should have said something. I could have said something. We could have had so much more-,”

“James,” you whispered, interrupting him and he stopped. “Shut up and kiss me.”

James wasn’t going to waste another second, removing his hands from your to instead gently hold your face, bringing you closer to him so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since he was 18 years old.

The dim light of his desk lamp, the papers crumpled beneath and around you, the way you moved closer and slid into his lap, his hands now on your hips and your fingers snaking through his hair, it all melted into one and if you let yourselves imagine, just a bit, the lamp became a light in the library; the papers became unfinished homework assignments and lab write-ups, and you hadn’t missed a second of the time you could have spent together.

Your kisses soon turned slow and repetitive and neither of you wanted to pull away, living in the moment like it was your last.

“When…did you realize…you loved me?” you asked between kisses, moving away from his mouth, instead letting your lips find their way across his jaw and up to his temple.

“Our last year of school,” he paused your kisses so he could kiss you properly again. “Carlo said something and-,” he shook his head and sighed. “I realized I was going to leave without you ever knowing how I felt and even though eventually I thought maybe I’d stopped loving you and started to love other people…I just kept trying to fill that space that only you fit in.”

“First year of my master’s for me,” you rested your forehead against his. “Suddenly you weren’t there anymore and I really wished that wasn’t the case.”

He tilted his head up to meet you in another kiss that was far too easy to melt into. Neither of you had any complaints and you knew you’d never get tired looking into his heart-eyes.

@cuntyvicodin

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #dr wilson #dr wilson x you #dr wilson x reader #wilson x reader #house md #hate crimes md #greg house #james wilson fanfiction #james wilson fanfic #james wilson/reader

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bettyfrommars · 7 months

Text

nightmare!eddie x reader

a Nightmare Factory blurb

I had several smut blurb requests to do with Eddie working his magic to give us a wet dream, including one from the lovely @jo-harrington that I will probably do something with separately, and it's literally all I could think about today, so I spit this out.

18+ONLY, somnophilia, smut, unprotected sex, squirting, reader receiving oral, pet names. Okay so, this is somnophilia because reader is actually asleep, but it's also...a dream. This is a consensual relationship, and they've been together for a while at this point (for those following the story, this is a time jump). It's a wet dream, but there is also evidence that they really had intercourse. wc: 1.3k

masterlist

authors note: I've decided we are going to jump around a bit in theis series because the non-linear way is more fun, I think. I still have a Headless Horseman Eddie coming soon, but this one felt very important xoxoxox

-------

Eddie got to work early that day and threw a sheepish grin down the hall at Kevin before plopping down in his chair for the group safety meeting to do with falling from extreme heights in dreams.

He hadn’t been able to see you in weeks and—my god—he missed you so much it made his heart hurt.

You’d been keeping your nightmare boyfriend a secret from your family and friends, but it was hard not to mention Eddie when you’d made sure his face was a fixture in your life. It started out as a few sketches when you first woke up, trying to keep his image fresh, but then it progressed to paintings and even a few sculptures. You had a whole journal full of notes and different ways Eddie had appeared to you, dating back to before you ever knew who or what he was.

“Last night, he came to me as ghostly whispers that swam in my head, and sang to me a haunting melody.”

You weren’t afraid of anything anymore, especially not your nightmares. Being chased by a masked killer? It was just Eddie, strolling by to say hello. A glimpse of a shadow monster behind you when you stood at the bathroom mirror? It’s just Eddie, coming around on his way to another job. A clawed hand grabs your ankle from under the bed? Of course, it’s Eddie—-he wants to tell you a story about something that happened at work before he forgets.

Two months ago, things had become more intimate between the two of you. There had been some yearning kisses before that, a bit of hand holding, but it was always a gamble because he said he didn’t want to mess up and get “taken off your route” completely, as if he were delivering newspapers or soliciting magazine subscriptions.

That afternoon, you took a nap, and woke up in the throws of a wet dream so fierce, you were barely able to touch yourself before you were cumming so hard it made you shake. When the wave subsided, you rolled over and looked at the ceiling with a smile spreading across your face: “Eddieee, was that you?”

You took that as a sign that he would return that night, and so you slept naked, ready to tempt him. The anticipation made it hard for you to drift off to sleep at first, but it wasn’t long before you felt his calloused hands moving up your thighs.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, waiting for you to acknowledge him. “Did you miss me?”

You moaned, still half asleep, but cognizant of his presence in your dream.

Your lower back bucked off the bed when his tongue sank between your legs, making your cunt throb.

“Damn, I love how wet you get for me,” he kissed your inner thigh and ran his nose along your slit, darting his tongue into your aching hole. His tongue was…longer than you remembered, and you could feel it fill you up and twist inside of you like a big snake on the run.

You whimpered and twitched, making him smile against your engorged pussy as it dripped for him and only him.

“You came so hard for me earlier today,” his whispers were far away but also right at your ear. One mouth sucked at your nipples and licked them while the other latched onto your core—as if there were two of him. “I need to taste it this time.”

Under your closed lids, your eyes moved from side to side and your jaw went slack as a long groan escaped.

You were close, and Eddie knew it.

He could feel your arousal bloom in his mouth, and he rutted it in the air of the celestial sphere the two of you were existing in.

Your whole body stiffened as you came, gasping, hips bucking up to meet his mouth, to let him suck every last drop from you.

“God, I’m so crazy about you,” he mumbled against your slit as he lapped you up, licking all the way back and teasing there a little bit.

You could feel your eyes fluttering open and you worried that you were waking up, “no no no no…” you repeated, becoming aware of the infinite blackness around you.

You saw Eddie’s head pop up from between your legs. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Eddie,” you breathed, relieved. You wanted to put your arms around him, to spread your legs wider so that he could be inside of you, but your limbs had minimal strength. “Where are we this time?”

It looked like you were floating in a dark night sky surrounded by a sea of bright, blinking stars. It felt like you were on your bed back in your room, but there was not a trace of anything familiar.

With a grin still wet from your gift, he crawled up on top of you to plant a few sweet kisses on your face. “We’re in the same astral plane with the rest of the soul suckers and the sex demons. I’m doing my best to lay low, so the head Incubus doesn’t know I’m here.”

Talking to your boyfriend and kissing him was great but you were suddenly hit with another blast of horniness so strong it made you clench.

“I need you, Eddie,” you whined against his mouth, finally able to move your hands up to undo his belt. “Inside of me this time.”

His clothes were off in a split second, as if he’d never been wearing any to begin with. Your hole gripped at nothing when the tip of his hard length rubbed against it.

“That’s it —fuck—just like that,” he held your hips up and sank in deep as your eyes fell closed again. You drifted in and out of the astral plane as he made you his with long, slow strokes first, hitting that perfect spot inside each time.

You chanted his name as he worked his fingers in the right spot, just like you'd taught him to the last time you were together. "You're doing so good, baby," you hushed. At one point, you felt like you were being lifted off the bed—becoming weightless—while he kept a steady pace.

He hesitated abruptly, pausing there, and you managed to open your heavy eyelids to look at him.

His expression was a serious one. “I’m about to cum, baby, but I wanted to tell you that I think I…I think I…”

But he couldn’t finish the sentence and your head rolled back as he continued, cursing at how good it felt.

Your second orgasm hit with a sense of release you’d never felt before, and you cried out, trembling, as sunburst exploded at your core and a velvet whip cracked.

“You’re cumming…all over me…oh my god,” and the sight of your release spraying onto his cock made Eddie pour himself into you on the spot, stuttering as your walls milked him, each of you babbling incoherent words of worship to the other.

In the aftermath, he took you in his arms from behind to spoon you close. He could feel your breathing change, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before you left dreamland through the magical door.

“I think…” he started again, brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. “I think I’m in love with you.”

—---

You took your time waking up, guiding yourself through another orgasm as the remnants of the dream lingered. As always, you tried to hold onto the feeling of him for as long as possible, gasping his name as you came again, and your head lolled from side to side on the pillow.

Once you were fully awake, the all too familiar sadness set in; the realization that he wasn’t really there, with you, like you wanted him to be.

Your spirits soon lifted when you felt his seed drip down your leg on your way to the bathroom, elated at the realization that you had successfully kept a piece of him with you.

One day, you’d figure out a way to keep all of him.

#Eddie Munson fic #eddiemunsonseries #eddie munson fanfic #the nightmare factory #nightmare!eddie #somnophilia #Eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #smut #eddie munson x afab reader

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powderblueblood · 5 months

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER FOUR — HOT SKIN and a HALL PASS

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summary: rules, you've recently learned, are for breaking– sanity is also, apparently, relative. after making a statement in the cafeteria, you play hooky with eddie in main street vinyl. content warnings: MINORS DNI tension you would need a chainsaw to cut through, farm-to-table snarking, do they even know they're yearning, nancy wheeler i'm sorry i shittalked you again (it will get better i swear) word count: 4k

Dear reader, do you ever feel like you’re completely losing your grasp on reality?

You’ve cruised through life almost seamlessly up to this point. Yours is a well-oiled machine, one you painstakingly built yourself. But do you ever feel like you’ve spent so much time constructing something so carefully that it doesn’t make sense to you anymore?

Like you can’t see the forest for the trees, or the treason for the thrill.

Do you ever want to light your whole life up in flames, just to see what’s really fireproof?

“So, which is it?”

You’re standing at your locker, making a bad job of touching up your now-flaking under-eye concealer when a voice rings out from the other end of the hall. It bounces off the cool metal of the lockers, the tack of the linoleum. It makes your shoulderblades go tense.

“Has little Lacy been hiding a pair of brass balls this whole time, or is she on a suicide mission?”

You’d roll your eyes, but your face is aching.

“Showing up with me this morning would have been one thing, but sitting yourself at my little table of outcasts? At lunch? The most important social event of the day?”

Munson lets out a low whistle from where he leans, a couple of lockers up from yours.

The hallway is deserted save for the both of you; you, out on a forged hall pass and him, probably just ditching to ditch. You peer at him from behind your locker door. He’s standing slanted in a long, lithe line made bold and jangly by his carefully curated metalhead armor.

You, and this comes with a hefty dose of begrudgery, have to hand it to him– he leans great.

“Talk about blowing up your reputation beyond repair.”

You know he’s making fun of you– he’s not exactly subtle about it, nor is he about anything. It’s all in the lilt of his tone, how ridiculous he thinks the interwoven politics of the cafeteria are, how dumb he thinks you are for considering that in the least bit important.

Munson’s idea of survival in high school is attacking conformity with a nuclear bomb, whereas yours is a little more artful.

“I know this might be hard for you to comprehend, Munson,” you sigh, and the sound rattles through your ribcage– you are tired, tired of him, “given that your understanding of object permanence has clearly been stunted at an infantile level, but the world does not revolve around you."

"No?!" he croons, sarcasm slicking out of him.

"I was catching up with Ronnie.”

“Right, because you guys have been such good gal pals up to this point,” Munson scoffs.

His face, framed by those wild waves, materializes in the reflection of your locker’s mirror, peering over your shoulder. You slam the door and pivot to face him properly, impact ringing out like a gunshot.

He does a little jump, a shadow of his shock at you on Harrington’s porch.

That reaction is like a shot of espresso straight to the veins.

Good. Be afraid. Asshole.

You're sure as fuck awake now!

“Lab partner love never dies,” you say, leveling his stare. “You’d know that if you showed up for Biology once in a while.”

“Maybe I need a tutor. I could use someone to help me brush up on anatomy.”

“Sorry. I don’t teach remedial.”

“Maybe you should start. Rehabilitate your image.”

“Again, who died and made you my parole officer?”

His expression cracks; a gasp of a laugh. “Oh, so you remember all that?”

“My hippocampus is alive and kicking.”

“Your hip– what?”

Your lips purse, and just as you’re about to throw another verbal dart at him, the voice of Ms O’Donnell cuts through the both of you.

“I hope you two have a damn good excuse for loitering in this hallway– because if not, Mr Munson, I believe you’re less than one detention away from suspension.”

Munson’s got this terminal disease where he’s more smarm than charm, despite his warped perception of himself. There’s no way he’s going to handle this with the grace that’s necessary, because O’Donnell hates him anyway.

He keens his head in the teacher’s direction, ready to roll out some useless excuse.

Before he’s even got the chance to speak, you cut him off.

“Hall pass, Ms O’Donnell.” You flash the fake yellow slip at her, careful to obscure the names– you’ve usually got one of these forgeries to hand, just in case you need it, and teachers generally trust you enough not to check them out. It comes with the whole work-life balance you’ve been treading for the entirety of your high school career; you’re well-liked and you’re maintaining an impressive grade point average. They don’t give a shit what you do other than that.

“The Weekly Streak has run into a printer snag and Nancy Wheeler’s car is on the fritz. Eddie,” his first name, which you never ever use, feels weird and heavy on your tongue, “offered me a ride to the printers to make sure it gets worked out– it’s a big issue. What with the game this weekend and everything.”

O’Donnell’s eyes narrow. You nudge Munson right in his funny bone– hard enough for him to wince.

“Right?”

“Right! That big game. Front page news, Ms O’D. Gooooo Tigers.”

The teacher clicks her tongue against her teeth, her rock hard stare challenging the delinquent beside you– it’s entirely likely that Munson could have blown it for himself just by virtue of being alive and in O’Donnells sight line, but you know she’s got no reason not to believe you.

See, your reputation at the school newspaper precedes you; it’s just about the only thing that really holds your interest within the monotonous structure of Hawkins High. With your finger on the pulse of Hawkins’ student body, it only makes sense that you serve as a fierce and unforgiving editor of the Streak’s society pages– funnily enough, that hardline professionalism included never giving Munson’s infamously lame Dungeons and Dragons club a single mention in them.

Vetoed, you’d drawled at one of the more well-mannered members that had shyly approached you about writing a piece. Not Ronnie– she knew better than that.

How come? they’d whined, as their fearsome leader glowered near the lockers just like he was doing now.

On grounds of irrelevance. I’m not wasting valuable inches on a make believe board game club.

This activated Munson. Lacy, you wouldn’t know valuable inches if they rammed you in the–

“Make it fast,” O’Donnell decrees, and you feel her watch you as you take off down the hallway. With a snappy quirk of your painted fingers, you gesture for Munson to follow your lead. And you better believe he does, almost tripping over his ratty Reeboks trying to keep in step with you.

You both heave open the double doors, squinting against the unseasonable late autumn sunshine. Heels of your ankle boots clicking against the concrete, you make an unconscious beeline for the parking lot– for Munson’s van.

“So– what now?” he asks, dur-dur dumb as all hell.

“What now is I just got you a free pass to play hooky,” you say, little miss cactus flower, prickly with annoyance. You shield your eyes against the blazing light. “Weren’t you ditching anyway?”

“Yeeaaah,” Munson hums, scratching the back of his head, “But… the plan kind of was to smoke a joint and go to the record store.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complete waste of time,” you hear yourself saying before you realize it, yanking at the van’s passenger door. You pause, raising an expectant eyebrow at Munson. Isn’t this your cue?

Baffled, bewildered, but grinning despite himself, he extends that silver ringed hand and helps you haul your ass into his beat up chariot.

Completely losing your grip on reality.

–

It’s a fugue state. It’s an out of body experience– you’re watching yourself from outside your corporeal form and you have no logical control over what you’re doing.

That’s the only way to explain why you’re standing in Main Street Vinyl, elbow to elbow with Eddie Munson.

But that might also be the weed talking.

You don’t know where the hell he gets this stuff, but it’s strong– way stronger than the shit he’s sold to your friends ever since he started dealing. Well, you guess it makes sense that he’d keep the good shit for himself. You’d do that too, if you were him.

What if I was him, you idly wonder, peering up at him as he flicks through letters R through T in the metal section. His tongue peeks out of his mouth as his ringed fingers work though the vinyl, carefully considering each one.

This is what you mean by obvious– you, for one, would have the good conscience not to look so stoned while you’re so stoned.

You definitely don’t look stoned right now.

No one can even tell that you’re looking at him, up from underneath those thick lashes of yours.

He’s got thick lashes too, come to think of it.

Munson is actually not completely unfortunate looking– but again, if you were him, there’s no way you’d wear your hair like that. You’d keep it long-ish, though, you think. He’s got a point there; a nice curl pattern. Maybe to your ears. And the clothes obviously have to go– that denim vest is a patchwork disaster. Did he sew all those patches on himself?

A vision of him hunched over the thing with a needle and thread in hand flits through your brain, pricking himself more than he can pick up a stitch. He’s gone out of his way to make himself look like this– kind of similar to the way you pick up your skirts so they’re always impeccably just short enough.

Now, the leather jacket you could forgive if at least the collar was different. Maybe one of those Brando-style biker jackets, you could rock that. Or a brown leather number, to bring out your eyes– which are his eyes, of course, his crazy dark empty universes of eyes.

The kind of eyes with the kind of stare that nails you in place and makes you want to do crazy shit like ditch class and get loaded and stand dumbly in a record store. Those eyes.

That are staring at you. He’s staring at you. Right back at you.

“I can read your mind,” Munson monotones, unblinking.

You go flush, heat crawling all the way up to your ears. “Wh–what?”

Then he nudges you and snorts, breaking the spell.

“You have gotta stop thinking such dirty thoughts about me, ice princess. You’re gonna melt.”

You scoff, shaking your head– but the cartoonish move is more to ground you in reality than a reaction to him and his idiocy. You’re Wile E Coyote after blunt force impact with an Acme anvil, shaking the circling birds away.

“They don’t even have what I’m looking for here.”

Stalking around the stacks of records, with no clear direction in mind, you feel Munson’s laser stare follow you. “Yeah, they don’t usually file Madonna next to Motörhead, Lacy.”

They’re both filed under M, aren’t they? is what you want to say. “I don’t listen to Madonna,” you protest instead, all quietly miffed and earnest with a crinkle in your brow.

“Mm, don’t think that’s true,” Munson smirks, rounding on you around the rack. “You gave me a pretty spot on rendition of Like a Virgin– or does your hippocrampus not recall?”

“Hippocampus,” you breathe out, but it’s lost in the din of Main Street Vinyl’s quiet, carpeted atmosphere, “I don’t listen to her, like, recreationally. I can’t help if that song’s an earworm.” A beat. “I also can’t help if you’re a particularly serenadable virgin.”

“She’s gonna touch me for the very first tii-iime…”

“That was a threat.”

You make an active attempt toward tunnel vision as you slowly tread through the store, feeling the high starting to turn on you– this was the part smoking weed that you hated, the few times that you’d imbibed in it. That lack of control over the way you were coming across. For a girl trained in the art of saying all the right things, this was dangerous. Your tongue felt both loose and heavy in your mouth, like it could come out with anything and you couldn’t stop it, it’d just roll on out.

The malevolent presence of Munson and your pathological need to one up him wasn’t helping matters.

Ever since the parking lot at school, you’ve been stalking around like there’s a target on your back. Evidently, you’re not the kind of girl that chills out when you smoke, which is equal parts a relief and a disappointment to Eddie. He wonders what you’d look like, mellowed out and floating. Your eyebrow unarched and your lips not poised for attack.

He’s also acutely aware that he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with you then, either.

But he can’t tear his eyes away from you, a hyperfocus that he’s assuming is a symptom of his own buzz. Every little twitch and jump you do– it’s like it’s begging him to pay attention. Like if he looks away for even a second, he might miss something.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, eyes trained on you while you thumb through the records.

As much as you love music, and you do, you have a tough time describing exactly what you want to listen to. The notes in the songs that you revisit again and again read more like physical feelings, sparking off in your nerve endings. For example, listening to River by Joni Mitchell feels like something heavy is sitting on your chest. Listening to Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees feels like you have fairy lights at the end of your fingertips.

“I want something that sounds…” you say, noticing the distinct feeling of cottonmouth setting in, “Ticklish.”

“Ticklish,” Munson deadpans back at you.

“Something that sounds like someone’s running a xylophone mallet down my spine.”

He regards you for what feels like an excruciatingly long timewith this terrible, awful look on his face– brows ticked up over his glassy bloodshot eyes, pink mouth peeling into a grin, and this look, this look of wonderment. Like he can’t believe you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re saying shit like this to him.

Join the club.

“... You don’t get stoned a lot, do you?”

“Ugh!” you groan, a little louder than you mean to– the cashier shoots you a glare as you stalk past Munson, stalk past him, cheeks flaring pink. “I know what I’m talking about. I know it when I hear it– I heard a record just like that earlier this year! It’s like, some band from Scotland or something? Totally incomprehensible lyrics, yeah, but that’s what it felt like. It was like… bone deep.”

You hear Munson emit the teeniest hehe! and you just about snarl at him over your shoulder.

Rounding on the alternative section, limited as it is, you feel a welcome sense of familiarity. You haunt this corner when you can, when you’re out of sight from prying eyes. There’s only one other regular purveyor of this little corner of Main Street Vinyl that you know of. You trace a thumb over the spines of the cassette cases–it’s mostly tapes, rarely ever records because tapes are easier to import and harder to damage, and it’s always haphazardly organized–and then you spot it.

Victoriously, you thrust it in Munson’s face, which is right over your shoulder. He’s frequenting that spot a lot recently. “Ha!”

“Oh!” he chirps, sounding almost pleasantly surprised and plucks the tape from your fingers. “... Cocteau Twins?”

You falter, eyelashes flickering as you look up at him. Dammit. He even pronounced it right.

“You know them?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He runs a thumb over the plastic casing, edging a little closer to you. That came outta left field.

“This shit… sounds like what a haunted music box would sound like.”

Aaand we’re back in the room.

“Okay…?”

“This is creepy, cursed doll music.”

And the room is filled with assholes.

“Alright.”

“This is what you hear right before you’re about to get possessed by the ghost of Tiny Tim. The whiniest little bitch ghost of all time.”

And all the assholes are named Eddie Munson.

“I get it.”

“You better be careful with this stuff, Lacy-Wacy,” he teases, mocking that fraudulent concern ripped straight from an episode of Donahue. He taps the cassette case against your forehead. “Music like this is a gateway drug. A gateway drug to hanging out with, like, Jonathan Byers.”

You reach out and grab his wrist, tugging his hand and that damn tape away from your face. You’re shocked to find that the skin under your fingers is blazing hot–same as you felt through his shirt when he helped you to the door in your drunken stupor.

Does he always run this warm? you wonder. Is it all that Satanic poseur poison coursing through his stupid veins?

“Well, it’s a little late for that,” you tell him, and you’re not quite sure why. Probably because every secret you swore would die with you is slowly but surely punching its gnarly hand from the grave, like fucking Carrie from fucking Carrie.

Munson doesn’t even express any overt shock, like he’s learning to roll with the punches of you revealing bits and pieces of yourself through sheer annoyance with him. He just cocks his head, challenging you with a silent, Really?

This chick. This blink-and-you’ll-miss-it chick.

“I ran into him in this corner a lot,” you explain breezily, tilting a shoulder up like it doesn’t bother you, like it’s never bothered you. “We’d always be standing next to each other at the listening booths, and I’d be listening to stuff I couldn’t take home and he’d be listening to stuff he couldn’t afford to buy and… We like a lot of the same music. We went out on like, one date if you could even call it that, and it didn’t work out.”

“Because he’s a creepazoid?”

“Because he was hip deep in it for Nancy Wheeler,” you supply, a green monster gurgling in the pit of your stomach. “Like every other respectable member of the male species.”

It was the summer before junior year, a punishingly hot one even by Hawkins standards. You’ve never been good in the heat and that summer made your entire body feel ill-equipped, your skin ill-fitting. Main Street Vinyl had those big, big box fans right near the cash desk which was right near the listening booths, so you would spend the majority of your time there when you weren’t being forced to the lake or Skull Rock with your friends.

Jonathan would look at you with alarm at first, like you were trespassing. Then he’d spy what you were listening to and sneak these small, shy smiles at you that you indulged in– at first, because you weren’t copping a lot of male attention from anyone else that summer. Eventually, it was because his shadowy eyes were always ringed with this tenderness, with knowing. Like you two were sharing a secret. It made you be able to look past the greasy hair and crippling social awkwardness.

You know you rocked his world the day you breezed past him at the listening booth, leaned in and whispered, I love Linda Thompson's voice, don't you?

But still, the Love’s Baby Soft scented specter of Nancy Wheeler loomed large. You picked what you thought was a secluded spot in the park for your ‘date’, which included a conversation that was almost entirely cruise directed by you. Said conversation completely flatlined when you both spotted Nancy Wheeler cresting a hill, walking her family dog.

At this point, you and Nancy were most familiar with each other from the school newspaper– she, the peachy-cheeked junior, the rising star that was sure to make editor and you, the girl who knew where the parties were happening and where the bodies were buried.

The picture of coquettishness, she offered you and Jonathan an awkward, stilted wave. Jonathan spoke a grand total of three words after she left, zeroing in on the spot where she appeared like a man possessed.

You didn’t acknowledge his existence after that.

It’s not that you were particularly hung up on Jonathan Byers, but you didn’t expect someone like him to be able to elicit that cold sinking feeling you were used to experiencing at the hands of other boys and their ignorance. Maybe it hurt more because you thought you had something in common– something real, something that wasn’t shotgunning a can of Busch. Whatever it was, it made you sure of two things.

You hated Nancy Wheeler, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

You wished you didn’t hate her. But you also wished she’d dissolve into a fine mist.

“Wheeler’s a priss,” Munson pulls you out of memory lane in a harsh left turn, face contorting into a half-grimace. It’s the general consensus on Wheeler– the shoes are too goody for everyone to be falling head-over-heels with her, if you want Eddie’s honest opinion. There’s no there there, not like with–

“I’m a priss.” It sounds like you’re defending her. In some weird way, you might be.

I know what guys like you think of me.

“No, you’re a bitch.”

His weight on the word bitch makes your knees feel unsteady. The way he says it. It’s not enunciated like an insult. It’s a dagger cloaked in velvet. It’s warm, like he is. It’s almost filthy. It makes you look at his mouth.

“You’re a stone cold killer bitch,” Eddie’s voice hums low in his chest. His heartbeat is picking up, and he wonders if you can feel it where your freezing fingertips are squeezing his pulse point, “and I think–”

“You two truant assholes gonna buy anything today or am I gonna have to call the goddamn dog warden on y’all?”

Heaved back into reality by the clerk at the cash desk. A trickle of cold sweat runs from the nape of your neck into the collar of your sweater. Heaved back into reality to see you’re still clutching Eddie Munson by the wrist, and he’s looking at you like you’re the last Popsicle. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day.

It gets so hot here in summer.

“I think,” you breathe as you unstick your fingers from him, suddenly aware that you’re parched and starving and your face hurts, “it’s time for me to go home.”

“I– yeah,” Munson stumbles, also perturbed by the interruption. His red-ringed eyes gain a little more clarity. He’s seeing something you’re not seeing. He shouldn't be letting himself see that. “Let’s go.”

Let’s go back to the van. Let me make you look at me like that again. Let me see if you’re cold all over. I can fix that.

“No, I gotta…” Your head pounding, your thoughts swimming– the sharp and stupid realness of this whole afternoon coming into perfect view. What are you doing? “I need to walk it off.”

He inhales sharply, a strangled chuckle– oof. That other shoe, that buckled heel of yours, clattering to the floor. He should have expected that, right? There’s no way you’d wanna… Because you’re you and he’s…

Eddie retreats back into himself a step or two; it looks like he’s gone all bashful, a little color dropping out of his cheeks. His hands clasping behind his back. His heart is in his big intestine.

“That’s the second time you’ve turned me down today, sweetheart. Keep it up, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like me.”

Munson, get the fuck out of here before I ban you again! and Jerry, can’t you see me talking to somebody right now! explode in a cacophony, the boy and the keeper of the keys to the record store hollering at each other. You take this moment of interruption to nudge the door open with your shoulder. But you don’t start into the street without giving him one more look.

“Lacy.” He’s grinning this dumb grin, eyes gone soft at the corners.

He’s giving this one last nudge.

Your heart thumps. A reminder– this is really happening. Shit. Fuck.

“That’s the thing, though,” you say, attempting to smooth your expression out with a frosty smile. “I don’t like you, Eddie.”

author's notes: of course, my eternal eternal ETERNAL THANKS for all the love you have shown this story and the anons you've sent!!! writing is crazy so thank you for caring about mine. onto the fun stuff because you know i love a reference: - he leans great. a shameless my so-called life drop but eddie to me is a kind of stunning midpoint between catalano (left back twice) and krakow (would go down on you for days) - someone in the tags said ronnie and lacy should hold hands and i don't disagree. lab partner love never dies! - there's never a bad time to listen to ace of spades by motörhead - there's also never a bad time to listen to treasure by cocteau twins, which is the album lacy is referencing - i always fee like the zombie hand reaching out of the ground motif is unfairly accredited to the living dead franchises or something like that, but of course the most iconic instance to me is from carrie (1976) because women own horror - god, we really need to bring back listening booths in record stores! like we really need to bring them back lest romance die forever. - richard and linda thompson, also forever!!!!! my headcanon for this re: jonathan byers is this particular record is a joyce byers influenced choice. joyce and lonnie loved this record (when they were happy... lol) and played it all the time when jonathan was a baby. their original copy got lost (or destroyed) and sometimes jonathan will play it in the main street listening booth but he won't bring it home because he knows it's painful for his mom. - all my stone cold killer bitches in the house make some noise - jerry from main street vinyl you will always be rob from high fidelity in MY HEART (eddie is barry even though he doesn't work there lmao) - ok my hellcats! that's all the cultural education for this chapter!! thanks again for reading, reblog and scream at me in the asks because i so appreciate (and need) the support and i'd also love y'all to send me prompts! don't be shy! i love an in-universe blurb!

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x f!reader #e. munson by powder

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starryhutcherson · 7 days

Note

do you do male requests? If u do I have an idea 😄 maybe a one shot where the reader is pinning desperately over clapton, but doesn’t think he’d like someone like him since he’s a bit nerdy. But in reality clapton is also the biggest dork ever and likes him just as much:3

━━ OPPOSITES ATTRACT

author's note: i try to keep all my fanfiction gender neutral, except for smut which i write with a female reader, just because i don't really know how to write good male smut, so seeing as this is just a fluffy fic i made it gender neutral as usual thank you for your request! also i stayed up until the ungodly hours of the morning to finish this so pls dont judge if its shit i did my best

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: clapton davis x nerdy!reader warnings: swearing word count: 2500+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

After you’d reached Junior year at Grizzly Lake High, you’d accepted the plaguing reality in which you were a nerd. With your plethora of knowledge regarding random facts, active participation in the school newspaper editorial committee, and expertise in your pre-calculus class, it’s reasonable to say that you were not a typical, soulless high-school student like the rest of the Grizzly population, and it was something that you’d grown to accept.

Being sort of geeky wasn’t all that bad – you had a close knit circle of friends who shared similar interests, and you were excelling in all your classes, so there wasn’t really a reason for you to have contempt towards your social status, right?

Wrong.

You had one very strong reason, a reason adorned in obnoxiously colored clothes and a reason that you were recently paired up with for a science project.

Clapton Davis.

You’d had the privilege of sitting near him for nearly a year now, thanks to Ms. Hudson’s seating plan which had situated you just a few desks away from him. To state that you stared at him for the duration of most (all) lessons would be a little creepy, but it was hard not to, when the afternoon hit its peak and you were able to watch the syrupy sunlight crease right over his figure like fine silk — how are eyes that warm possible? Is that shade of brown even real?

You’re in far too deep for someone who you’ve hardly spoken a word to, sure, but could anyone blame you? You couldn’t help it– the lingering glances sent from the overcast shadows of your desk, tucked into a corner of the classroom, pining hopelessly, bouncing your knee with repeated, tense motions and scattering love-heart encircled initials all over your paper.

Fuck.

The real kick in the teeth was the fact that Clapton was somebody, at least at this school. He was propped up by popularity and people, effortlessly perched at the head of the social pyramid of Grizzly High, and you certainly were not. Superficial bullshit like this never bothered you in the past, but the fact that Clapton was so comically out of reach felt like a deliberate joke aimed squarely at you, and for lack of better words, it sucked.

It was taxing labor to try and tolerate your complete lack of a chance with him at the best of times, when you were nestled in the back of classrooms, hopelessly admiring his figure, or passing him in the halls and basking in the fleeting smiles you exchanged – but seeing him up close, being a mere breath away from him, hands making contact for abiding moments that spark against your skin… you deem it the cruelest torture of all.

The project you’d been paired up for was relatively simple – creating some predictable poster on mitochondrial DNA, but considering the prospect of working alongside Clapton, it became of far greater interest than it should be, science became a highlight of your timetable, a rarity even for you.

And it’s where you are currently, tense against the stool you’re seated at, knuckles pulsing with a dull ache from cracking them right against the maple wood of the desk — Clapton’s complaining about the point of this whole thing and you attempt to explain the delicate concept of nucleotide composition, while trying not to sound like a complete and utter loser. You’re failing substantially.

“No, so– the phosphate group is part of the main components which are what form the DNA, but deoxyribose–”

“De–what?”

You huff, wiping sodden palms against the plane of your denim-bound thigh.

“It’s not—”

“I can’t focus here anyway. It’s too loud,” he grunts, opting to etch his initials onto the side of the desk with deliberate, harsh carvings of his pencil.

Your gaze swallows up his convex figure. Boredom. Ouch.

“I can just do it all, if you, uh, want.”

His head cocks upwards – it’s a tempting offer. But he’s not a douchebag. No matter what people might insinuate. A gradual smirk tugs downwards at the curvature of his lips, hands stilling their previous motions as he turns up to you.

“No, you don’t gotta do that. Just come over to my place after school or something, you can explain it there, right?”

Your throat clots as though you’ve swallowed mud— your words feel heavy on your tongue and you don’t dare glance upwards from the paper in front of you, in fear of him finding the elation that’s erupting across your guise.

His house? His house? It feels like an elaborate prank – how how how were you supposed to resist him if he was openly inviting you over? Your nails bite into the exposed flesh of your palm, leaving raw crescent marks in their wake. You couldn’t turn down the opportunity, even if every second would be agony, having him dangled in front of you, so close yet so far.

You croak out a weak, “Oh, sure, that sounds good—” it sounds better than good.

But it also sounds worse than it as well. You develop a looming sense of nervousness, forcing your fingers deeper into your skin, choking back a scream of intolerance. What would you even talk about? Sports? Shoes? Or just this stupid project?

He seems to sense your displeasure, because he answers it with a chuckle. “Chill. I don’t bite. Y’know, unless you want me to.”

Cocky prick.

✩‧₊˚

The walk to Clapton’s house went smoother than you anticipated, casual conversation playing on loop as you wind through the bends of each mundane neighborhood that Grizzly Lake has to offer – his house is the same as a thousand others, but you wear a smile and offer lousy compliments anyway, to which he rolls his eyes a little and tells you that it’s nice or whatever.

Maybe he’s picked up on your inherent adoration, maybe he’s just toying around with you. You’re not sure– but his damn hypnotic eyes are distracting you from your purpose– mitochondrial composition. Super interesting.

The pair of you are slumped against his bed, surrounded by sunwashed memorabilia as the afternoon begins to bleed into the evening. Your progress is limited, but you don’t care. Your proximity is the only thing settling in your mind, like dust upon your shoulders and in your throat– you can taste his breathing as it fans across your neck.

Cedarwood seeps into every crevice of your skin – he’s too damn close. You’re not sure you can take this.

“It’s sort of like lego.”

Your voice cuts through the incessant tide of your wandering thoughts.

“Lego?” “Yeah. Y’know— like, okay, the phosphate is the base, and then the sugar molecule connects to that, and then the nitrogenous base is like, your unique pieces, y’know, color, size, whatever, it gives the DNA it’s unique features.”

“Sort of… following?” You grin at the achievement.

“That’s good!”

“I never usually get this stuff, so uh, thanks.”

Your heartstrings tangle into one unfathomably tight knot, and your nerves pulse in sharp bouts beneath the surface of your skin. He’s thanking you. And he’s smiling too, pearly whites seeming near opalescent, but maybe that’s your mind, warped with ecstasy. You wished you had more to talk about though. More to offer. But what were you supposed to bring up, your comic book collection? He’d probably laugh in your face.

“It’s all good. I’m glad I could help you.” His grin widens fractionally.

“I’m glad too.”

A moment’s silence flutters by.

“So uh–”

"Should we-"

You chuckle, a smidge awkward, as your sentences overlap.

“You first,” he tells you, and you shift timidly on his bed, accompanied by the dull squeak of his mattress.

“Just uh… wondering if I should go.”

He appears to tense, just for a moment, as if your words had implications that you weren’t aware of, but it dissolves as quickly as it came and you can’t analyze his feelings in time.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”

Whatever you want. You’re sure he doesn’t want the true answer to that. What you want, what you absolutely want, is mere inches away from you, looking preternatural in the first whispers of a mid-autumn sunset, splayed across his bed with a boyish grin, whatever you want is right there, waiting and daring you to try and take it. You don’t. You can’t.

“Okay. Uh, see you tomorrow then.”

Shit.

✩‧₊˚

The aforementioned tomorrow is so inconsequentially boring that you debate coming home early. You’ve got nothing planned, no important subjects, and every time you pass Clapton in the hallways, greeted with an elusive raise of the eyebrows or a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it grin, it gets harder and harder to ignore the fiery feelings in your body.

You can barely take the spiderwebs of angst growing across your stomach, tangled into your thoughts– Clapton. That’s all you can seem to find threaded into every fissure in your psyche. It feels like every stray thought is the gnawing reminder that Clapton isn’t yours. How are you supposed to focus on physics when those honey-sweet eyes are eternally burnt into the forefront of your mind? You’re seconds away from tearing out your own fucking hair, it’s so unlike you to get worked up by something like this.

Yet here you are.

Here you are, staring emptily down at your worksheet, filling in the answers with ease, wondering how much easier it would be to attract attention if you had more appealing interests. If you knew how to skateboard instead of the elements of the periodic table, if you spent your money on clothes instead of comics. Shit. Shit, you really liked him and he really probably didn’t like you. It stings like a childhood wound, like hydrogen peroxide festering amongst skinned knees.

Fuck this.

✩‧₊˚

The day is achingly slow, boredom clinging to the air and swallowing you whole. Each class just feels like going through the motions, your thoughts are stuck on one thing and one thing only, and you hyperfixate on every previous interaction with him, sourly regretting every word you’ve ever spoken, praying he didn’t think they were as weird as you did.

You want to scream! The schoolbell released you after what seemed like decades, and now you’re shuffling down the streets back to your house, where you can hopefully catch a break from your constant stream of deprecating thoughts, but no.

The roll of a skateboard pounding against the graveled roads becomes audible as it slows behind you, a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“Going home?”

It's him.

You turn around, plastering a weak smile across your face.

“Uh, yeah. Why?” He inches a little closer, picking up his board and tucking it under his arm. “Can I come over?”

Your stomach snags on itself, an airy sensation spreading across every tense limb. It’s a bold move, but it’s a welcome one.

“For the project?” He shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Also just to hang out.”

You perk a smile at this, for a brief moment, before it melts directly from your face. Clapton in your house? Clapton in your room? You visualize each poster, each stupid certificate your mom made you hang up on your wall— he can’t go in there. You’d die of shame.

“Oh, uh, I’m kinda— busy.” He frowns. “Seriously? C’mon, just for, like, an hour.”

“Clapton—”

“Please?”

It should flatter you, how desperate he comes across, but you’re too worried that after he sees you, like, the real you, presented through your room and your stuff and your interests, that he’ll be weirded out, and scamper away to some cheerleader or something. Still, those pleading eyes work wonders on you, and it becomes impossible to refuse them.

“Okay, fine. An hour,” you mumble, and set off back on your journey home with him following close behind.

You make it to your house, hesitantly guiding him into your bedroom– he doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction. You were definitely overthinking it.

He makes himself welcome, collapsing on your bed with a sigh, laying sprawled on his back with his eyes trained on your ceiling, eye to eye with your collector’s edition Return of the Jedi poster, limited edition, signed.

You tentatively join him.

“You like Star Wars?”

He asks, gesturing to the poster, no teasing present in his tone.

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

“Seriously? What’s this one about?”

You can’t help yourself– he seems properly interested, and even if the question was merely to start conversation you attack it, spluttering eager sentences about the plot and the characters and oh fuck, you’re really going on about it. His eyes have left the poster and he’s rolled onto his side, vision stuck straight on you, he’s probably judging you.

You cut your own sentence midway, feeling the apples of your cheeks redden with embarrassment as you shrink back down to your previously timid self.

“Sorry. My bad,” you mumble, picking a loose thread on your duvet. He notices, faltering a little.

“What? No, come on. I’m invested now.”

You sigh, your eyes drilling holes into your shoes, where they stay staring. “Why? Why do you keep, like, talking to me and stuff?” He sits up so he can join you, shoulder resting beside yours. “What’d you mean?”

Your body feels uncomfortably taut with the suspense of this tangible moment, and you decide that you might as well get this swollen feeling off your chest before it bursts inside of you.

A moment’s silence. A bated breath. You harness whatever confidence you can find in yourself (though it’s pretty barren), and go for it before your thoughts can catch up to you.

“I just– I’m not, like… I’m not like your other friends. And I… I dunno, I… look, I like you. Like, I really like you, and I know it’s stupid, but I feel like you keep on giving me, like, mixed signals– but I don’t wanna—”

“Wait, you like me?”

You let out a begrudging exhale. “I know, it’s stupid–”

“What? You’re kidding right? You’re, like, perfect.”

Your head jolts to him so quickly you’re surprised you don’t get whiplash.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re super pretty, but like– you’re smart, and you’re nice, and you’re funny… you seriously like me?”

You’re barely processing. It feels like you’ve swallowed rose thorns, like every grain of sand has settled in the pit of your stomach, filling you up from the inside out, drying out the cavity of your throat.

“Y–yeah?”

He chuckles, a noise you want sewn into your memory forever. “I like you too. I totally have for ages.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. “Are you serious?”

Again, he flaunts that grin that you’ve marveled at for far too long. And it takes you a moment to realize he’s not replying– not with words. But his face is closer than before, and suddenly you could count every freckle, you could name every color in the ring of his iris, and he’s closer still, and only your eyes are doing the talking, and then his soft lips hit yours and everything stone inside you cracks.

He moves gently, as if you’re made of frozen sugar; his hands find your waist, he paws at it slowly, too much, not enough— and then he pulls away.

“That serious enough for you?”

You stammer out a butchered sentence, before roping yourself together, somewhat. “You can’t do that!” You choke, though there’s no malice in your tone, because he can hear your smile, even before he can see it.

“Just did, baby.”

“You’re unreal. This— this isn’t real,” you chuckle in awe.

“Mmm… I’d say it’s pretty real,” he smirks, reaching for your hand and squeezing it for emphasis.

“Why’d you like me?” If you hunt for it, you can still taste the vestige of him on your trembling lips.

“I just said, remember? You’re really generous, and you’re, like, patient with me, when nobody else is. And you’re painfully hot.”

You snort at this. “You’re the hot one.”

“Hey, we can both be hot.”

You giggle, squeezing his hand back, you fall into a pattern. You fade into him.

“Oh my god, I actually can’t believe this.”

He presses a chaste peck to the canvas of your cheek, spreading a ruby flush that’s all for him.

“Believe it.”

And you start to.

masterlist

✩‧₊˚

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #detention 2011 #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt fluff #clapton davis fluff #clapton davis smut #clapton davis #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader

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toska-writes · 1 year

Note

helloo! i love your writing so much and i wonder would you like to write commander cody with padawan reader, it's after order 66. and as we know in bad batch s2 he's gone to AWOL right? so what if he go to other planets anywhere and meet reader again (let's pretend he already removed his chip lol) imagine how he feels guilt meeting his little padawan after trying to kill her and her master (obi-wan) and how the reader react meeting him again especially looking at her cody sun armor become gray like shadow unlike him.

(sorry if my english kinda messed up, and have a great day!! <3)

Wow, just wow

“Sunshine”

Summary: after order 66 Cody jumps at only the chance to get at least one person from his old life back- no matter the cost

Paring: Cody x GN padawan Reader (it’s platonic!)

Warning: hurt/comfort nightmares ptsd let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 1822

Notes: I’m very proud of this one and I hope you enjoy! It’s also not proofread because I need some sleep

Cody’s head hurt again.

But it wasn’t like last time, he was in control now and always will be.

“How are you feeling Kotes?” Rex came around the tables and laid a hand on Cody’s shoulder.

To be honest Cody wasn’t sure what he was feeling, if anything. Nausea sat in the pit of his stomach but he feared that it wasn’t just from the procedure he went through.

A hand reached up to the side of his head, the fresh bandage felt course under his hand- the all to familiar feeling of before.

“I’m fine.” Cody’s voice was raspy and burned his throat- Rex picked up on this and quickly went to get him a drink of water.

There he sat alone.

He was alone for a while now, but nothing like this. If you went back a few week you would see the small spark of hope illuminating in his eyes.

Cody wasn’t sure of a lot of things since the war ended but maybe it was the illusion of hope that he and Crosshair could escape together.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

Then Cody went AWOL. Finally it seemed that he got his mind right- the headaches and the dreams that plagued him however said otherwise.

Rex walked back in. Cody’s eyes were clouded in thought as he sat unmoving on the table.

Placing a ginger hand on his knee Rex has never seen is brother in such a state. But the way he felt in this moment- finally getting his free will totally returned to him was something he would never forget.

“Hey Kotes,” Rex helped him to his feet and lend him out into the halls. “We found something you might need to take a look at.”

Cody almost instantly snapped back to attention as the pair of brothers made their way back to the ship they arrived on.

“A few radars picked up on some chatter from the bounty hunters guild.” Rex returned to the Captain Cody knows and loves, things were going back to how they use to be.

“Why would your crew have any interest in the guilds?” Cody questioned, a little slow to connect the dots. “Your fighting an empire here.”

Rex stared at him for a moment, his try at a sarcastic tone clearly flew over Rex’s head.

It was one of the only times Cody has ever seen Rex so unsure about what he was about to say. “We picked up Y/N’s location. The bounty for Jedi are unbelievably high and I’m worried if one of us doesn’t get there in time it might go sour.”

Cody froze in his seat, the end of Rex’s sentence seemed to go blurry. The moment replayed every hour of the day, awake or asleep. He memorized the moment when he watched Obi-wan fall from that terrible hight.

He remembered the look you gave him as he turned to you, your lightsaber coming up in your shaky hands staring at him.

“Cody what’s going on?”

“I- they made it?” Cody looked at Rex, the dark thought that he was playing a terrible joke on him.

Rex only nodded his confirmation. Waiting for Cody to see just want he would do.

You wouldn’t want to see him. Cody didn’t even want to see himself. The terrors he’s created would never wash off no matter how hard he scrubbed.

The armor that surrounded him all his life was striped away, just like everything he has ever known. His sunshine was stripped away as well.

Taking a shaky breath in Cody whispered. “Take me to them.”

•••

Your head hurt again.

It was just like the last time, the moment you realized nobody was on your side anymore.

The purge left you stranded by yourself, unsure of what to do you fled as far as you could.

The outer rim served its purpose for now but the empire was expanding, and the hunters became bolder with their search.

Against your better judgment you tried to reach Ahsoka, Hunter even but it was no use.

Maybe now you were by yourself. Cutoff.

You sat up straight in your makeshift bed. The sheets bawled into your fist as your chest heaved and sweet ran down your back.

You weren’t safe even in your own mind.

You watched him fall. The scream you let out as you lost him over the edge. Everyone around you went off.

Cody. Your Cody turned to you next- all around you heard the all too familiar sound of blasters raising. Cody aimed for you as you brought your weapon up, the thought of hurting any of them never crossed your mind before.

“Cody.” You had tried. “Cody what’s going on?”

The blaster that was shot at you was the moment you woke this time. Other times you weren’t as lucky to be spared with the memory.

The sky was masked with the darkness of the night, your clock told you at you barely sleep 2 hours since you tried to go to sleep.

You gathered yourself as practically dragged yourself to the only window in your “home”

This wasn’t home. Nothing would come close to what the word use to mean to you, but it was soemthing keeping you mildly safe.

The sky above never really changed, it was the only constant you found after the end of the war. The only thing you could depend on that would never harm you.

Your head buzzed again, for a split second you turned to your hidden saber, the weapon you couldn’t pick up since you arrived on this rock. The crystal within buzzed constantly in your ear, begging to be picked up once again.

It use to be a background noise that grounded you, but things have changed.

You stared into the darkness for a moment, the lightsaber wasn’t it. Turning your attention back to the outside world the familiar feeling felt crooked in your chest.

It wasn’t really right, but it was something you recognized none the less.

A cloak that you threw around yourself countless times before made its way to your shoulders- masking you from others and you left closing your door silently behind you.

For a moment you thought maybe, just maybe it was your master heat to tell you everything would be ok, to help you just as he had countless times before.

But you couldn’t think like that, like you use too. Hope burned within you as you followed the force you tried desperately to get rid of.

•••

Cody tried the comm channel he used countless times before, he could practically put it in with his eyes closed.

But of course no answer.

He did try once before- the first night he ran from the empire, alone in the back of a transport ship he tried to reach the Jedi he grew fond of.

It was one of the only instants the commanders eyes watered slightly and his nose ran.

Rex was waiting near by with the ship as he walked the streets of this planet alone. His armor was covered with a poncho Rex lent him and frankly it was the best he could do.

He hoped that you weren’t here, the disgusting streets and inhabitants made him sick. But what if this was better than see him again?

Cody shook that last thought. His hand shook slightly at his side which was a nervous habit he picked up a long time ago.

His eyes scanned the dark scenery for any sign that you might have been here, a sign Cody hoped nobody else could pick up on.

On instinct he turned down an alley to his left, this was definitely not the place to be at this time.

His eyes squinted trying to pin point a figure towards the end. This was the only time he wished for his helmet that didn’t seem his own.

Something ate at the inside of him again. His breath was sparse wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. If his mind was no longer his own.

The figure took a few steps from the shadows that engulfed them. The moon illuminated someone that haunted every minute of his life.

You held a blaster out in front of you, but this time you didn’t shake.

Cody didn’t dare take another step. His eyes were firmly planted on the ground as he kneeled down dropping his blaster in front of him.

“Cody?”

He could only nod, afraid that his voice would highlight just how vulnerable he felt in this very moment.

But he had to say something, he couldn’t leave you again.

“I’m- I’m so sorry kid.” His voice broke through his words. This uncertain feeling engulfed him like a flame showing no mercy. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

You stared at him for a moment. Taking in the sight- clearly things were different. The sunshine was stripped from him. His eyes, though they tried to avoid you, seemed hollow.

You thought of two things in this moment.

You wanted to run, run from someone that could hurt you all over again, someone that you weren’t even sure you could trust.

You could try to hang onto one of the only things that you so desperately needed. You needed someone.

The blaster clanked to the ground as you walked to Cody. Your guard was up but the tears betrayed what you were really hoping for.

You hoped that Cody was himself again.

Cody looked up, your familiar eyes caught his own. The tears that he dried so many times fell across your cheeks, and he only wished to dry them one more time.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say, his mind left him and he could only mutter the only words that went through his head, as if they could make everything better.

You kneeled down with him. For a second Cody thought this might be a dream of his own and this was the moment that he would loose you once again.

But you stayed.

Quickly you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him flushed against you.

Cody wasted no time crushing you into him. You cling to him as he continued to whisper small apologies into your hair.

Through the muffled sniffles you voiced. “I liked your other armor kot’ika.”

For the first time in a while Cody found himself giving an actual laugh.

He nodded as he griped you even tighter as if he was afraid that if he let go you would leave.

“I think I could use some help painting it again.” He spoke a little louder. The emotions still sounded in his voice.

It was your turn to nod into his chest. For the first time in a while You found yourself crying tears of relief that finally someone was here for you again.

This time you weren’t going to let him go again.

_____________________________________

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97

#star wars clone wars #clone wars #star wars #the clone boys #the clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #clone boys #captain rex #Cody tbb #star wars tbb #commander cody #cody tcw #commander cody x reader #jedi padawan #padawan reader #reader insert

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soxcietyy · 6 months

Text

Haunted House

Yuta Okkotsu x fem reader

Tw: sucking dick 🤪

Every year a group of students are picked at Jujutsu tech to create a "Haunted house". Usually made from whatever the students could do or create. They were given two weeks to complete it before they opened it. As childish as it sounded it was part of the school’s tradition. This year Yuta, Itadori, and panda were chosen to go all out.

You didn’t want to brag but you, Megumi and Inumaki had the best haunted house last year. Especially because you decided to sneak curse spirits into the place as props. Let’s just say Maki ended up exercising them all.

You weren't quite sure what to expect from those boys. You would see them meet up on campus to plan things out often. Though every time you got near they’d shoo you away. Yuta would refuse to spoil anything because that would ruin the fun. So tonight was the night you would find out if all his hard work paid off.

Taking your uniform off a after a long day at school you decide to switch to something more casual. That being a skirt and a tee. Megumi had asked if you wanted to accompany him through the haunted house seeing how his best friend was hosting it meaning he had no one to go with. Agreeing he asked you to get ready and to meet him at the school entrance by sundown.

By the time you get there you see everyone there. Megumi being in the front of the line, most likely to get this over with. Yuta stood in front of a set of doors to the school building. The other ones seem to be missing but that didn’t matter. Approaching Megumi you link your arm around his stiff one. He wasn’t much of a fan of contact but as a gentleman taking a lady to a haunted house he needed to make her feel safe.

You could see Yuta from the corner of your eye looking irritated. Though he didn’t say anything to you. You could read him like an open book and you could tell he was not pleased by this. A younger tall male that had someone’s girlfriend attached to his arm.

Your lovely boyfriend still had his uniform on but was also damped in sweat from working hard today. You flutter your eyes at him catching him roll his eyes. Obviously you were just messing with your boyfriend though he didn’t find it quite funny.

"We are going to make this where only two people at a time will be able to go in. Shouldn’t take any long, also please do not harm the actors. We can’t have the same incident twice in a row." Yuta said as he directed you and Megumi in first.

Entering you could see much since the windows where covered up. The only light source being the few hallway lights they decided to leave on. The building was covered in spider webs and big fuzzy spiders. You would see some props around the hall not knowing if they were fake or them hiding.

As Jujutsu sorcerer you would think this wouldn’t be scary. You know being used to going to haunted abandoned places and fighting off curse spirits but knowing people are trying to scare you just made you overthink.

Walking down the hall you could see a shadow walk across the hall. You quickly pause and look at Megumi. “Do we really have to go there?" You ask.

"If we want to get this over with quicker yes." He said pulling you along. You could hear the echo of your foot steps the further you went down the hall. You could hear the old wood settling around the building. You could feel eyes being on you.

You hated this time of year. You were the only one that would get scared easily and would run away. You remember your first year you ran out the building crying. You cringe at the embarrassing memory.

Surprisingly nothing has happened yet. The second you were about to open your mouth the door next to you slammed open. You let out a scream as you backed up bumping into Megumis chest. Looking up you saw as a huge body overlooked you. He let out a loud roar as he put his arms up to grab you. Pulling your fist back to punch him you feel your grind grab your arm.

"Calm down it’s just panda." He said.

Letting out a shaky breath you take a double take and noticed it was panda but not panda? He was an all white panda… a polar bear.

"What’s more scarier than a panda? A polar bear, one of the most deadly bear species." He chuckled as he walked off.

You grabbed your chest trying to calm yourself down. Such a simple jump scare and you fell for it. Continuing your journey you decide it was best to stand behind Megumi. He would be the first one to get scared rather than you. You always thought about how trusting people are in hunted houses. How did you know there wasn’t an actual crazy person blending in? How do you know if a criminal didn’t just decided to join just to kill people. What if a crazy person snuck onto campus and is pretending to be a student?

"Megumi I think we should go back and call it a night." You say to him as you follow behind.

"Y/n your older than me, act like it." He said not stopping.

Coming closer to another corner you see something reflect with the light. It seemed to be a shiny piece of metal on the wall. Peeking over Megumi who had finally come to a stop you notice another piece of metal. Slowly three more appears and a face creeped around the corner. Their face was pealing off revealing blood and they wore a hat. You screamed as you saw him fully. It had to be Freddy fucking Krueger.

"Relax it’s probably Itadori in a costume." Megumi said reinsuring you.

He was right plus he was the last one to get pass. Yuta wasn’t wearing a costume when you saw him. Before you could even calm down you heard a loud noise behind you. Slowly turning your head you see a guy in a white button down with their sleeves rolled up, and black pants. They wore a hockey mask and carried a chain saw. Your heart dropped as he came closer to you guys. You grab Megumi’s hand holding it tight.

All of a sudden you felt his tense up. This wasn’t good at all. It was almost as they had a count down because after three seconds of you guys standing there both people from down each hall started running towards you guys. You screamed and ran away leaving Megumi to fend for himself.

Running past Freddy you make a sharp right turn hoping it was the correct way to the exit. You turn around to check if anyone followed you and sure enough Jason was walking towards you quickly with his chain saw running. You regretted looking back, not only because you didn’t like what you saw but because you ended up falling to the ground. You ended up falling and hitting your chin. Then a sharp pain was felt on your knee but you had no time to look at it. Standing back up you ran even faster. You were going to find the exit no matter what. Going down the hall you made it to a blocked off exit. Panic set in as you thought of what to do. Pulling a class room door open you hid inside of it.

This class room was empty but had plenty of cabinets to hide in. Quickly you run to one and fit your body inside. You were panting at this point. Breathing hard to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe you left Megumi. He was so going to hate you from now on. Still feeling pain on your knee and pull your phone out and use the flash to inspect. Taking a look horror washed upon you seeing a thumb tack in your knee. You wanted to let a cry out knowing how painful it was going to be. Before you could even attempt to pull it out you hear a loud door creek. Gasping you drop your phone on your stomach and clasp your hand on your mouth. You could hear as his steps became closer and how our heart pounded.

Closing your eyes shut you felt a sudden gust of wind. You gasped as you felt an arm grab you and drag you out. They dragged you against the cold floor to a corner of the room trapping you. Tears streamed down your face as you begged him to let you go. Coming down to eye level with you he let out a chuckle.

"My poor baby girl," he said taking his mask off to reveal himself. Of course it had to be Yuta. His face was even more damp than before and his hair was a mess. He held your face as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. Looked at you up and down with a smile in his face clearly enjoying the view. "I love seeing tears in your eyes but only when my cock is in your mouth."

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to push his hands away from your face. Though he didn’t budge at all keeping them in the same place.

"Yuta I hurt myself." You say pointing at your left knee. He turned his attention to it, raising his brows at the sight of it.

"Ouch, let me pull it out for you." He said as he tried grabbing but you swat his hand away.

"It’s going to hurt so don’t touch it." You say trying to let Shoko look at it first.

You were ready to go home at this point. When trying to find a way to stand up you see as he slowly boxes you in. Two hands places against the wall and his body covering the sight of the exit. You look at him confused.

"We can’t leave yet.” He said

"Why is that?" You say looking at him.

He didn’t respond immediately but when he did decide to he made sure to look away. "I have a hard on". His face seemed to turn a shade of pink in the dark. Looking at his member you could definitely see it protrude through the pants he wore.

"Can you please suck it?" He asks looking at you with eyes full of arousal.

This was definitely not how you thought this haunted house was gonna go.

Nodding in agreement you felt his hand rest on the back of your head pulling you towards his crotch. Smushing you face right onto his hard member. You could feel the heat of it through the fabric as he continued to rub you on it. Letting go he quickly undid his pants. Pulling his cock out to reveal how urgent he needed this done. You could see how it was leaking with precum.

Grabbing his member he rubbed the tip of it on your lips, glazing them in his juices. He still wore a smile as he did it.

Grabbing his members you spit on it. Coating it in your saliva. Running your hands up and down his shaft. You could see the goosebumps on his arm as you continued. Increasing g the speed of your hands you moved onto his sack. Placing both balls in your mouth. He groaned feeling your hot wet tongue play with them. They felt soft but big in your mouth.

"Open." He says desperate for more.

Slowly you open your mouth for him to use. Looking up at his with your puppy eyes. He bit the bottom of his lip before shoving his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise not thinking he was going to go all in. You let out a gag but that didn’t stop him. Grabbing your hair he bobbed your head back and forth. Throwing his head back he groaned loudly. Letting out mumbles of curse words.

"Fuck, your so fucking perfect."

His cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. While his balls would smack your chin as he went on.

"Your so fucking good at taking me. Keep your eyes on me baby no looking away." He said as he’s pushing your head all the way to his base. You’re eyes began to tear up. Drool leaked out of your mouth dripping onto the floor. He loved the way you were messy on his cock. The slurping sounds you made, the way you gagged, the way you just looked at him.

With a few final shoves he pulls out and comes all over your face. You looked at him baffled for a minute. He also looked at you shocked not being able to believe he did that. Not only because it was all over you but the fact that students and teachers where outside waiting for them to come out.

#yuta okkotsu #jjk second years #jjk movie #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #jjk x y/n #jjk 0 movie #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu x y/n #yuta okkotsu smut #yuta oneshot #jjk kinktober #jujutsu sorcerer #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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kudos-2-you · 14 days

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write an Alastor helping his fem little!reader through a panic attack fic? Thank you ❤️

Notes: Sorry this took forever to get out and if it's a bit short! The sickness bug hit me hard as heck. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Alastor x Regress! Little! F! reader

tags: regression, soft alastor, his shadow, panic attacks

It was the middle of the night and you had just woken up from a nightmare you couldn’t quite remember that caused a horrible sense of panic. The anxiety rose so much in your chest that you started breathing rapidly as you looked around. The room felt too big and empty which caused your own regression to trigger. You felt tiny in the room as you climbed out of bed, bringing your blanket that had an antler pattern on it from your papa, Alastor.

When the all-powerful radio demon first laid eyes on you as a new arrival at the hotel after the extermination he took a great interest in you. From how you handled yourself to when you would slip into your room without anyone else taking notice, well… besides him. One night when he was roaming the halls, he passed your old room and heard soft giggles along with cooing. He decided to just hide in the shadows to see exactly what you were up to and his findings piqued his interest even further.

There you were, giggling to yourself as you played with a little deer plush in your hands and making noises as you gently brushed its back. Alastor immediately knew you went into regression, having been bored some years back he decided to look into it and found it quite intriguing. The next day he pulled you off to the side in private and revealed that he found out that you were a little, which made you a bit upset until he asked you if he could be your caregiver. It surprised you in all honesty, the horrifying overlord wanted to take care of you? You had to be dreaming. He had assured you that it wasn’t a deal and you could deny it if you wished. In the end, though, you accepted and he’s been nothing but soft with you in and out of regression since then.

Now thinking of your papa, you left your current room of the hotel and quietly made your way to his room. The lights helped you find your way as he was only a few doors down, he had specifically asked Charlie to move your room as close as she could while also giving you enough space should you wish it after your agreement without letting the princess know exactly why. You noticed his light was on as it shined under the door. You padded over to it and knocked softly with a trembling hand.

Instantly Alastor’s shadow wormed its way under the crack of the door, smile ever present with a furrowed eyebrow like it was angry. It immediately softened though when it saw your shaking form holding your blanket close to your chest. It began giving you cooing-static-filled noises as it placed its’ hands on your face as a means to calm you down. It only worked a little as your breathing became more shallow and deep. Its grin grew as it moved its hands off your face before holding up its hands for you to wait as it retreated back under the door.

The panic slowly started setting back in as it left you alone, feeling like it was just going to leave you alone but you knew better. Not even a moment later you heard hasty footsteps before the door opened to reveal Alastor, smile ever present though his eyes held concern.

“Y/n? What’s wrong my little doe?”

You sniffled as you looked up at him, your breathing growing more rapid as your chest tightened. Instantly Alastor picked you up into his arms and brought you into his room, his shadow closing and locking the door behind him. He carried you over to a chair and sat you down as he kneeled in front of you. His shadow wrapped around the back of the chair, making more cooing noises as it ran its’ hand along your head.

“Darling, what’s going on?” His smile seemed strained as his eyes showed concern for you. You knew he wasn’t great with feelings but he seemed to try for you when you were in your regressed state.

Your small mind couldn’t voice what you wanted in your panic state so instead you only managed a choked gasp of air as you gripped the front of your nightgown in an iron grasp, showing you needed something to hold onto.

Alastor, quick to action, scooped you back up in his arms and sat on the chair with you in his lap as his shadow whisked out of sight only to return a fraction of a second later with your deer plush in its shadowy hands. The radio demon gently peeled your grip from your shirt for his shadow to gently hand you the plush which you held on for dear life.

A radio on a bookshelf crackled to life as it played a soft melody, you knew he would have wanted jazz but opted for something a bit calmer in the moment. You rested your head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat as he rubbed your back and hummed softly along with the song. His shadow even joined in, making the cooing noises as held your hands around the plush.

Your breathing slowed down, small hiccups and giggles sounding from you as the shadow started kissing your nose with the plush.

“Little doe?” Alastor spoke softly as he noticed you had calmed down from your panic. You looked up at him, noticing the concern was still there but his smile softened. “What happened, my darling?”

You gave another hiccup before you looked back down to your plush and mumbled out, “Bad dream.”

The shadow cooed again as Alastor petted the top of your head. “Would you like to talk about it?”

You shook your head no. “Can’t remember…” And that was the truth, try as hard as you could in your regressed state, you really couldn’t remember what the nightmare was. Truthfully, you didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

His shadow's expression softened more as it gave you a kiss on your forehead a small kiss, along with having your deer plush kissing your nose. You smiled and gave a yawn as you nuzzled into Alastor more.

Alastor hummed as he held you closer, a blanket appearing from the shadows and landing over the two of you. “It’s okay, my little doe. Why don’t you go back to sleep and I’ll be with you the entire time, hm?”

You nodded and nuzzled into his chest a bit more as you closed your eyes and fell asleep to the soft melody, cooing from his shadow, and the humming from Alastor.

Dreamland was sweet and kind to you as you were held safe in the arms of your papa.

#x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #age regression

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slowandsteddie · 9 months

Note

Hi!

Since you’re asking for fic ideas, how about Claudia Henderson taking Steve in when he’s younger? She knows Wayne Munson got custody of his nephew the year before, so she asks him for advice helping Steve adjust.

Maybe Steve and Eddie getting to be close friends? Bonus points for little brother Dustin!

Thank you so much for the request! I love it and have been thinking about it nonstop.

CW: mentions of divorce, previous child neglect/abuse, C-PTSD, mention of minor character death (murder), swearing

I’m not sure what happened here exactly. I just know that I like it.

1953 words.

Claudia Henderson had always wanted two boys, a fact that almost everyone in Hawkins knew about. So, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her that Jim Hopper was standing on her doorstep. He was holding his hat in front of him and the look on his face proved that he knew he was probably going to ask too much. Again.

“How can I help you, Chief?” She asked as though she couldn’t see Steve Harrington sitting in Hop’s car and looking straight ahead.

He cleared his throat. “I need to watch over the kid for a few days. Maybe a week while we try to get ahold of some relatives.”

Jim never was one to beat around the bush, but neither was Claudia. “Why?”

“His father is… going away for a while.” He seemed uncomfortable.

“Why?” She repeated, subconsciously crossing her arms when she had to press for more answers. He came to her for a favor, she had every reason to demand answers.

“He killed his wife and the kid has nowhere else to go in the meantime. I don’t want to have to hold him in a cell just because we don’t have a child services division in this small town.”

“Sorry we aren’t New York, Chief.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. That poor kid. Did he see what happened? Was she going to have to take him into the station to answer questions in the morning? “Does he have anything with him?”

“Just some clothes. He didn’t really want anything out of that house.”

She sighed again at that. “Bring him, then.”

Tomorrow, she was going to see if he wanted to go to the store and get anything. Probably best to keep him busy if he was willing. Besides, she needed to take Dustin to go pick out a new coloring book anyway.

Claudia looked out through the darkness and gave herself a moment to mourn, though not to cry. Steve’s mother had been her friend, even if they had drifted apart after Claudia’s divorce had gone through. Tonight couldn’t be about her. Not when her best friend’s son needed someone to take care of him.

“Thank you, Ms Henderson,” Hop said as he passed the backpack over to her and Steve stood on her doorstep.

He was so skinny. And was that bruising or shadows on his tiny face? That was a question she’d leave for the morning. Right now, he looked like he was about to collapse.

“I’m not doing it for you,” she replied before kneeling down to Steve’s level.

Hop took the opportunity to leave. The young male looked to him the same way a terrified boy would look for his father and Claudia made a note to reprimand the police chief later.

“Hi, Steve. I know this isn’t your home, but I want you to be comfortable here. Do you want to stay in the spare room tonight, or my room?”

He looked at her, wide eyed, as if she had a second head. “I get to choose?” He asked so softly and it broke her heart.

“You always have a choice here, Steve. As long as you stay safe and don’t hurt anyone.”

He chewed his lip and winced. It made Claudia lean more towards bruises than shadows, but it was hard to tell in the lighting and she wasn’t going to push. He had been through a lot.

“Spare room please,” Steve eventually decided.

Claudia made sure to show him where the kitchen and the bathroom were in case he needed anything. She also pointed out her own room being right across the hall before opening the door to the spare room for him. She did her best to make sure that he was as settled and comfortable as he was going to be under the circumstances. She stood in the door frame for a few seconds, holding on to it gently. She didn’t want to leave him, but he had requested to be alone.

“Anything you need, Steve. Just let me know. And Dustin might pester you in the morning if he wakes up before I do.”

“Okay,” he said simply.

Claudia went back to bed, leaving her door open. She really was going to have to call Wayne in the morning.

If Steve snuck into her room and laid on the floor beside her bed, she pretended not to notice.

—

“Wayne?” She was speaking a little lower than normal, but she did have two sleeping boys in her house and she was doing her best to keep it that way. “How did you help Eddie cope when he had to move in with you?”

“Why are you asking Claudia?” His voice was rough, but she knew him well enough to know that it was because he was tired.

“Have you heard about what happened at the Harrington’s yet?”

“You mean the murder?”

“I have Steve. Hop brought him to me last night,” she said in a rush before looking down the hall to make sure neither boy was going to sneak in on this conversation.

“Just make sure he feels safe and knows that things are going to happen at his speed, as much as possible. Have your limits and stick to them. Don’t let him push you over just because you know the hell he’s been through. And most important? Don’t try and be his Mama unless he asks you to.”

“Don’t have to worry about that last one. Hop said it should hopefully only be a week until they find some family willing to take him.” There was a tiny sniffle behind her. “Shit, Wayne. I gotta go. I’ll call you back tonight.”

When Claudia turned around, Steve was already disappearing back into the spare bedroom. The door closed with a soft click.

Shit.

“Mom, what’s for breakfast?” Dustin demanded as he walked out of his room and straight to the kitchen.

She’d check in on Steve soon. He probably needed a minute anyway.

“Pancakes sound good to you, Dusty?”

His toothless grin made her heart hurt.

How could anyone look at their child and feel anything but love?

—

It had been a few months and it seemed like Steve was staying. No one wanted to step up and take Steve. Honestly? Claudia wasn’t heartbroken about it. The longer he stayed, the more she loved him. She wasn’t fully convinced that she would let anyone take him away from her at this point. She wasn’t sure when she started looking at Steve as a son exactly, just that it happened quickly. Even Dustin, spoiled as he was, was excited to have an older kid in the house to hang out with. He said it made him seem cool to his friends that he suddenly found himself spending a lot more time with a Harrington. Whatever that meant.

She was just happy they were getting along. Happy that Steve was getting more comfortable with them. He was back up to a healthy weight, all the bruises were gone, and his injuries had turned to faded scars. Steve was safe. Most importantly, he was happy and loved. Claudia tried to not let it get to her that those were new feelings for the boy who previously only knew neglect or abuse at the hands of his biological parents.

—

Claudia woke up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding. What was that? A second thud had her throwing her covers back and running to the kitchen. The sight that greeted her would have made her laugh if Steve didn’t look so terrified.

Both boys were covered in flour. Honestly, the fact that most of the kitchen also had at least a thin dusting of the stuff was kind of impressive.

“What’s happening in here?” She asked with a smile.

Steve flinched and she tried to not let it get to her. He had to know by now that she would never hurt him, but the past doesn’t just go away like that.

“We were trying to make you a cake, but you put the flour too high and Steve wasn’t going to crawl on the counter. So I had to do it.” Dustin supplied after looking at the older kid and realizing that he wasn’t going to talk.

It happened a lot, Steve suddenly not talking. He also tended to leave the room a lot and hide in what had become his room. At least he felt safe enough to walk away now. He wasn’t walking away this time.

“It’s your birthday,” Steve said so softly. “It’s your birthday and you deserve a cake. I never got a cake.” His words got quieter as he kept talking, the last part of what he said barely audible.

“Oh, Steve,” Claudia’s heart was breaking. Shattering, really. “That’s really thoughtful of you, sweetheart. How about this? We clean up this mess and try again together? Yeah? Then I’ll move some stuff around so you can reach all the food in this kitchen.”

His eyes were shiny with unshed tears as the fear on his face gave way to a shy smile. “Okay,” he said simply.

And that was that.

—

Claudia was flustered.

She had been talking to Wayne a lot lately because he could relate to what she was going through. Taking in a kid who had nowhere else to go.

Somehow, that translated into them going out for dinner or lunch a few times to talk in person. To complain about the hardships and brag about the worthy things respectively.

That turned into her actually asking him on a date. Even more surprisingly, he agreed! Even though she knew he wouldn’t care, she was dressed in her absolute best and even took the time to tame her wild hair.

When there was a knock on the door, she was quick to answer it before Steve or Dustin had a chance. What she saw took her breath away. Wayne had put an effort in as well, and he was even holding a bouquet of flowers. Her cheeks heated and she smiled widely.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed.

“You’re beautiful,” Wayne replied.

“Come in, come in,” she insisted as she stepped out of the way. When she saw Eddie, she smiled at him as well. “Thank you for agreeing to babysit my kiddos for me.”

Eddie grinned. “Uncle Wayne said he’d get me an Iron Maiden cassette.” Then he was running off to Dustin’s room, following the sound of laughter.

Claudia laughed softly before returning her attention to Wayne.

He shrugged. “Flattery and bribery get you everywhere with that boy,” he joked before going to grab a vase to put the flowers in.

Obviously he had been around the house a few times and paid attention to where she put things. Briefly, Claudia pictured Wayne and Eddie moving in - in the future.

It wasn’t a bad thought.

—

When they got back, Claudia was greeted by an adorable sight. Dustin was asleep, spread across the couch. Eddie and Steve were cuddled up in the recliner. Of course Dustin would claim the couch for himself and make two people share the smaller seat.

“Let’s not wake them just yet,” she said softly after a moment. “I’ve never seen Steve look so relaxed.”

Wayne had no objections. “Let’s put a note on the coffee table and then head to the backyard?”

Claudia had no objections, either. She scrawled out something on a piece of paper that was on the table already before leading the way outside. They sat on the outside loveseat, their knees touching.

Everyone was going to be spending a lot more time together. She just knew it.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #claudia henderson #wayne munson #dustin henderson #Claudia Henderson is an amazing mom #I take requests #requested fic #pre steddie #early Steddie #slowandsteddie

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koishiro · 8 months

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Nymphomaniac | 방탄소년단

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Jungkook, the headmaster’s son, is just trying to make it through school unnoticed but with his academic smarts and undeniably good looks it’s no surprise when he gains the attention of a certain student

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : virgin!Jungkook x nymph!fem!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : fluff/smut/school au

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 : corruption, sub!Jungkook, loss of virginity, oral m!receiving, slight nipple play if you squint, penetration, you both make a sex tape, teaching Kook how to kiss.

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Gaining stares before I had even stepped foot into school was something I became used to. In fact, it was a daily occurrence at this point. Everywhere my eyes drifted were faces with downturned eyebrows and tight lips.

My steps felt heavier as murmurs reached my ears - what they said was always about me, yet never directly to me. The whispers traveled like wildfire around the school grounds; everyone seemed to know my secrets and have their own opinion on what should be done with them - none of which gave any relief or peace from the situation in hand.

Every girl's lips moved in hushed conversation as I walked through the hall, and their gazes followed me with burning intensity. The contempt was so thick that it almost felt physical. I heard snatches of whispered phrases float in the air - "disgraceful," "just like her mother" - making clear what they thought of me and my ways. But no-one dared utter these words to my face, then they would have something to gossip about.

The boys would look at me with a strange, heated hunger in their eyes. I was like an oasis of pleasure in the desert of their lives – something that could quench any thirst they may have had. My gaze and my body language seemed to be inviting them closer, as if I wanted one or more of them to take advantage of me in whatever way they wished. It felt shameless, but it also satisfied some internal craving for carnal satisfaction that drove my every action and thought.

“𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬?“ Turning around to face the boy I had been occupied with in the closet for the past 30 minutes, I sighed.

I opened my mouth to tell him no and that he should just move on to some other girl until I decided it wasn’t worth it and instead, turned around and walked off in the opposite direction.

It was times like this that would remind me of my mother, a strange kinship of sorts; as if I could feel her in my bones, see echoes of her lurking within me.

It was disconcerting and uncomfortable - like sliding into the dress she wore when I was a child, and realizing it still fit well after all these years. A reminder that everything she taught me has taken root somewhere within myself to grow or wither at its own will. Times like this made me yearn for the distance only death can bring.

Everyone in this boarding school had heard of my mother – a woman of dubious reputation, who the headmistress once described as “sowing her wild seeds”. The other students whispered when I passed by and cast judgemental glances at me as if I too would follow my mother's path. But they didn’t know that I was determined to make something better for myself, no matter how low people perceived me because of my lineage.

Nonetheless it seemed like everywhere I went all eyes were on me – judging every move and misstep like an unforgiving jury watching its victim carefully with discerning scrutiny.

I was sixteen when the diagnosis came in. Nymphomania – an insatiable craving for sexual relationships and gratification. A shadow had been cast into my life, and it seemed like no matter how hard I tried to control it, nothing worked - the cravings were always there somewhere beneath my skin, bubbling up and consuming me until all that mattered was finding a way to release them.

Masturbation could only do so much; soon enough even that wasn't enough anymore. So through trial-and-error experimentation over time, I gained a reputation amongst the boys of my neighbourhood as The Local Whore.

I straightened my back and kept my head high as I walked through the grand halls of this prestigious school. Everywhere around me were the daughters of the rich, prancing about in their designer clothing, whispering secrets behind their fingers and sizing me up with judgments hidden in their eyes. They all used their daddy’s money to get here, although I was no different.

I clasped my hands together, feeling the edges of my fingernails press into the soft flesh of my palms; a reminder that although I was no different - it had been a long road that had brought me to where I am now.

My father's teachings still echoed in my ears: insistent, unbending and unyielding in his belief that God alone could help me become who he wanted me to be. Little did he know, if only he could see me now - standing here on this threshold between two disparate worlds - how wrong his once convinced assumption were.

I had convinced myself that he chose this school over any other simply to pretend, possibly forget, that he even had a daughter. He’d take this opportunity to fix what was left of his reputation back home. After-all, “𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳“ as my father liked to remind me.

The school was like something out of a fantasy book, with it's broken brick walls and long narrow corridors. It seemed to exude an air of respect - the colour black ran through its veins, ironically the colour of sin, from the carpets lining the floor, to the trophy cabinets that decorated its walls.

Everywhere you looked there was something mysterious and spine-tingling about it; almost as if you were surrounded in darkness despite being standing in full light. Every footstep echoed throughout this old building making for a seemingly never ending playing field for exploration.

The building loomed over the campus, two stories high and multi-winged with rows of windows looking out on a sprawling intercontinental view. Its walls were pale gray brick and its roofs vermillion slate, an unusual yet distinct combination that resonated grandeur in its tallest spires.

The entrance hall was wide enough for four people to pass without shoulders brushing; within were two connected wings built side by side – one pink granite the other white marble – signifying gender separation due to firm religious beliefs held by those inhabiting it's spaces. Deep down inside these walls resided 500 students following their separate schedules from breakfast through dinner.

Although they didn’t do a very good job at separating us considering we still had to pass one another in the halls on occasion in order to traverse other parts of campus.

The school was a large white structure set back from the road. The front driveway coiled around neatly trimmed trees, and garden beds decorated with vibrant flowers lined the entrance walkway like soldiers on parade. From afar, it looked like an ivory castle; up close it revealed its immensity- straight lines of classrooms flanked by geometric terraces of dormitories that seemed to stretch for miles in either direction.

Inside there was a large reception office staffed by friendly faces all too eager to please visitors, within it were walls covered in cabinets full of trophies earned from countless victories in sports and academics alike.

I had been transferred here a few months prior under the instruction to finish my senior year unless I want to stay here another year by failing, that was not going to happen.

But that still wouldn’t stop me from having my fix.

But it also meant I needed to find myself a tutor, and fast.

I ventured through a labyrinth of silent halls and corridors, each one a mirror to the last. Everywhere I went seemed to draw me further inwards; closer to an unknown destination that even the most experienced navigator would struggle with.

I trudged down the empty hallways of the school, my feet dragging somewhat as I made my way towards the study hall. A bright light shone out from an open doorway and when I looked up to see what it was that beckoned me closer, no less than an angelic figure stood before me.

His brown hair was thick and slightly wavy, with a tousled look, almost having a golden sheen to it from the sunlight streaming through the arched windows at one end of the hallway; His eyes were like two pools of melted chocolate, deep and rich. He smiled slightly as he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out except for a few notes from some unheard song playing.

From beneath the thin frame of his glasses, two round lenses like a pair of moons framed a pair of shining golden-brown eyes that reached out to capture the warm rays of their own miniature sun within themselves. They glinted with every motion he made, each sparkle or twinkle depicting an emotion he held so deeply and passionately in his heart.

His facial features were a mosaic of perfection. Dark brown curls cascading past his ears, framed by high-cut cheekbones and an angular jawline flecked with the faintest of stubble that I longed to run my finger across. His lips were thin and delicate, rosy in hue and slightly parted with a small mole just below adding an extra layer of charm — almost as if it was begging for a kiss. With every feature I beheld, my heartbeat quickened faster until I found myself unconsciously crossing one leg over the other in sudden need.

He was lean and toned, his muscles standing out subtly beneath the crisp fabric of his white button-up shirt. Although it did nothing to conceal his shape, the garment lent him a certain refinement that was offset by the sleek black slacks he'd chosen to wear. Completing this modern silhouette was a bag slung around his neck.

He was tall and well-groomed with a chiseled jawline that seemed to be carved from granite, his thick, dark hair was a wild tangle of curls, obscuring his vision and causing him to pause in frustration. He slowly raised a hand with pale blue veins running through it and swept aside the stubborn locks, revealing his gentle brown eyes that had been hidden by the mass of hair. As our gaze connected for an instant, I saw his cheeks flush crimson like flames dancing on kindling wood.

I knew who he was, how could I not?

Jeon Jungkook was one of the many tutors on campus, and his specialty lay in poetry and fiction. He read voraciously, soon turning to painting and ceramics as well. Wherever he went, he had a book tucked into his arm or peeping out of some bag on his back like an extra limb; when girls stopped him to ask for help with their own work, instead of putting down the novel or essay in his hand as most would have done - uncomfortable from being caught reading – Jungkook held onto it tightly as if afraid it might vanish if not clung to with enough force.

But that’s not what caught my interest, no.

He was the son of the Headmaster, he was off limits. He couldn’t be any more perfect if he tried.

Luckily for me, I was in need of a tutor and I wasn’t going to settle for just any tutor.

Thankfully we were allowed to have a tutor of any sex as long as there was a person of authority to watch over. Considering my target was the headmaster’s son, there was no need for a third person, he was trustworthy in the board’s eyes. A sinless being.

I just had to figure out how to approach him without scaring him off.

I followed Jungkook into the quiet study room, my mind spinning with plans. He continued on towards a back room, producing a small silver key from his pocket to unlock it before walking in alone. My footsteps were nearly silent against the aged hardwood floors as I made my way closer to where he had gone until an unexpected slam caught me off guard and sent my heart racing.

I took the opportunity to poke my head in, cautious but curious. My eyes landed on Jungkook, in his school uniform with his sleeves rolled up and revealing veiny arms. His hands raked through his locks frenetically as he leaned his elbows on his knees in front of a canvas screwed up tight with colors ranging from yellow to red, seemingly an old painting with how dry the paint was; it looked like a battle between light and dark was taking place much like the inner battle he was having. I felt mesmerized by the sight; it seemed even more beautiful because of Jungkook's fury evident upon his face while he crafted what appeared to be yet another masterpiece.

The room was of decent size, with a carpeted floor tucked under layers of dust sheets that served to protect it from any stains Jungkook might throw its way. A large black-framed window at the front travelled up towards the ceiling, creating a pitched skylight as if it were a centerpiece overlooking the back of the school. Along one wall ran an expansive shelf system - books and pottery pieces spilled out in this makeshift archive - while opposite leaned three easels for paintings and sketches he had been working on.

The room was alive with the glow of possibility. Canvases were propped against the walls haphazardly, their unfinished stories waiting to be completed. Paintbrushes and pencils spilled out of cups on an old desk tucked away in a corner, forming their own miniature rainbow beneath the soft light shining from a paper lamp nearby. All that remained now was for someone to take up those tools and paint something beautiful into existence.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, hands buried in his hair. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one hand while raising the other to sweep away fallen strands of brown hair from across his forehead. His eyes were a deep brown as he looked off into the distance, taking a moment to think, breathe.

He stood in front of the canvas and surveyed the palette, eyes narrowed and deep in thought. At last he reached forward with sure hands, taking a brush from its holder before selecting two tubes of paint. As I watched on as if transfixed by a spell, he put them together on his brush then blended them together into an orange-hued swirl which seemed alive to me - undulating between reds and yellows but never settling completely either hue. With slow purposeful strokes amplified by deliberation that seemed almost religious in devotion to creation, he slowly placed each drop onto the canvas where it lay shimmering like a living thing.

Until the stupid door creaked and his eyes met mine.

I didn’t let this falter me though and instead entered the room to admire my surroundings and him further, leaving my bag near the door.

"Y-Y...n," His deep voice caught me off guard, rumbling through my body with a feeling of admiration. How had he known my name? I suppose being the Principal's son had its benefits, although it was neither told nor asked for. Nonetheless, his choice of words and delivery sent a shiver down my spine - that made me want to hear him say it over and over again.

He sounded small, shy… nervous.

”I-Is there something I can help you with?” He set his paintbrush down and rose to meet me as I crossed the room towards his desk in the far corner of his makeshift studio.

I ran my fingers along the criss-crossed grains of weathered wood, tracing flowery patterns left by long forgotten layers of paint. My eyes drifted up slowly until they connected with his soft, comforting yet shy gaze through an almost tangible bond that seemed to echo throughout the room.

“Yes actually, you’re going to tutor me” I said without hesitation.

“I need help getting out of this shit hole” I now stood in front of him as I heard him suck in a breath.

“M-My help?” I nod my head in reply, “I’m failing my lectures and according to someone, you seem to be passing all of them. If I don’t pass by the end of the year, your father and mine are going to keep me here for another year and in no way is that happening.

Lightly I traced my fingers up his chest, exploring the contours of his form with delicate precision. As I reached the base of his neck, my fingertips met with a loose tie that had managed to escape its own confines and was now splayed across one side of our bodies.

Pausing for a moment as if in thought, I carefully straightened it before smoothing out any creases from within his shirt that had been left in strife by this foreign presence. As my hands brushed against his torso gently guiding itself along each thread as though reading braille, all the while I continued my explanation.

“And who better to teach me the ways of a long and sinless life than the headmaster's son” I finish, tilting my head to the side.

“I-I’m not sure-”

“Would there be no way of convincing you otherwise?” He switched his eyes back and forth between mine, his pink blush turning am even deeper red, if that was possible.

“I c-can’t tutor girls” His eyes flickered away from my gaze, and he shuffled a bit on the spot while he glanced up at me with sheepish eyes that betrayed both shyness mix of nervousness.

“And why’s that Jungkook? Do you get nervous?” I said with a twinkle in my eye and a teasing smile on my lips.

“G-god wouldn’t-” Before he could finish his sentence, I stepped forward and interjected with a graceful firmness. Stark stillness descended upon us and seemed to stretch on for an eternity as my hands slowly moved from their place on his tie until they rested firmly atop his chest. His gaze followed mine as we both watched the slow journey of him being guided gently backwards towards where he sat earlier.

“Let me guess, God wouldn’t approve hm? Is that what you were going to say?” Pushing him down to sit on the chair, I now stood over him which didn't last long as I soread my legs to straddle him, taking the time to get comfortable.

Jungkook, face now red with a surprised expression as if he had died and gone to heaven, placed his hands out as if he were caught red handed making sure to keep the remnants of wet paint away from us both - how thoughtful.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I continued, “How anout this, one lesson. I need to show my teachers and your father that i’m trying in my studies so i’m not a waste of their time and I currently need to pass at least one class. Considering you already have an easel and paint out, we can start here. If I get a B+ or higher we’ll continue our tutoring sessions but if I don’t we can stop. Sound fair?”

Still frozen in shock, all Jungkook could manage was a slight gulp as he repeatedly blinked in astonishment. Taking that as a yes, I turned around to face the easel, all prepped amd ready to use.

“So, where do we begin?”

I had always thought that watching someone go through the tedious task of setting up an easel and arranging paint palettes wouldn’t be that appealing. But then Jungkook came into the picture with his broad-shoulders and angular jaw, ready to begin his work, and my heart raced faster than any art class could.

His sensual movements displayed a kind of grace that made me painfully aware of how sex-deprived I was in comparison to him – here he was bringing beauty out of thin air, while all I wanted to do was to drag him to the floor and have my way with him.

His veiny hands, covered in now dry paint, as he set up an array of paint ready to use.

“What’s first?” I rose from his lap to rid myself of my clothing. With a single motion I removed my shirt and flung it on the pile of our discarded clothing.

The cool air rushed across my exposed skin as I removed my skirt. It joined its pile of clothing with a satisfactory thud. He paused, gazing on this new landscape as if memorizing every detail before reverting to his own state of semi-undress.

His veiny hands, covered in now dry paint, as he set up an array of paint ready to use.

“What’s first?” I rose from his lap to rid myself of my clothing. With a single motion I removed my shirt and flung it across the room, creating a pile of discarded clothing.

The cool air rushed across my exposed skin as I removed my skirt. It joined the pile with a satisfactory thud. He paused, gazing on this new landscape as if memorizing every detail before reverting to his own state of semi-undress.

“What's with that look? I don’t want my uniform to get dirty now do I?” I once again made myself comfortable on his lap between his spread legs as he clears his throat in shock.

I decided to paint a butterfly, something of purity. Jungkook tells me to start mixing the colours I need which he had set in front of me a few minutes before.

I began started with the outline, starting from the head and leading my way to the wings. Ten minutes passed by before I began seeing everything wrong with my so-called painting.

“I don’t think I’m doing this right” I could feel his stiff posture behind me, hesitating untik I felt his bare chest - shirt now unbuttoned to avoid any staining, displaying the silver cross necklace around his neck, slightly brushing against my back. “Can I - um - help… you?”

I nod and he lightly places his hands on top of my own just enough to guide me. He leads my hands across the canvas, leaving a hue of blues in it’s path.

Once the basics are done, Jungkook decides we were done for the day. Facing him, I push myself further onto his lap, “I-I’ll let you know when we can continue… this”

Jungkook trailed off when I pressed my hand against his chest, the still wet paint paint covering my hand left a print on his chest, marking him.

"Y’know, you’re really skilled with your hands” I trailed my eyes from the open shirt, exposing his lean chest up towards his eyes where they switched nervously between my own as I sloely lean in.

“Makes me want to put them to better use” I lift myself up slightly, causing his paint-coated hands fall to my ass.

Just as our lips were about to meet he backed up, “I-I’ve never… kissed anyone… before” if my heart was to fail me, it would be in this moment.

“B-But I want to kiss you Y/n, I want you to be my first kiss - I just don’t know… how” He professed, allowing a tint to coat his cheeks.

His eyes continued to switched between my own before taking their chance to catch sight of my lips.

I used my finger to lift his chin, leaning in closer to his lips to the point where I could feel the softness of them against my own and just about make out the lone mole beneath his bottom lip.

“Then kiss me Jungkook” I watched the nervousness take over his features. Doubt began to circle his eyes. “I’m not stopping you”

“I d-don’t know… I wouodn’t want to ruin it… can you - please” when he begins to fumble on his words I lean in, keeping my eyes on his perfect lips awaiting my kiss.

I run my finger over his bottom lip, Jungkook’s brown doe eyes turning a shade darker and the shin of the moonlight creeping in through the window was not hiding the look of want and need in our eyes.

“Can I do what Jungkook?” I pushed him further, enjoying the way he writhed underneath me.

“I want you to teach me how to kiss you properly, please Y/n” I couldn’t hold back any longer, not when any sight of purity in his eyes had disappeared, now replaced with want, need, sin.

I bring our lips together, I could already imagine the expression he held - eyebrows raised to the heavens, eyes blown wide and frozen in shock. What I didn’t expect was for Jungkook to suddenly give my ass a soft squeeze resulting in a hum to pass through from my lips to his.

My hands make their way across his back until I reach the back of his neck, leading to his hair and tugging his head back a little.

I took that moment to assess my work. Lips turned a nice, swollen red, eyes dazed and his mouth letting iut the softest of pants. Jungkook moves forward to reconnect our lips but frowns when I move back.

“Someone’s impatient hm?” I reached my arms back to loosen my bra, just enough to allow him a small glimpse of my nipple.

While doing so, I brought his dazed yet still shy smile to my lips, kissing both corners before continuing our kiss, taking the note of the soft moan extending from his throat.

My hands now explored his chest and iver his arms while my hips roll in a way that makes him pause the kiss to inhale sharply.

The cool wind blows upon us from the window, causing goosebumps to rise and my nipples to harden. This time I’m the one who’s caught off guard when I feel warm lips pressed to my chest, focusing themselves between the valley of my breats.

“You’ve gained confidence” I try to laugh a little to keep him at ease but it’s short lived when when he nips at my skin before adjusting his seating causing his bulge to to push against my aching clit.

Jungkook looks at my chest, and the trail of saliva and the fingerprints he’s leaving over my body as if he was taking a oicgure with his eyes.

Then he gets this look in his eyes as if he just had the grandest of ideas waiting to be revealed. His eyes flicked up to me, and it’s killing me how ready my body was for him.

“I-I have an art commission to submit in a week… for the university I want to attend and I need to submit something I find beautifully interesting and I - um - …I couldn’t think of anything until now… I’ve been putting it off until earlier …where I just slapped a few colours on a canvas…” he look down at our laps as if ready for my rejection.

“Are you saying you want to use my body to get you into college?” Jungkook furiously blushes at my blunt response.

“I won’t show your face and I’ll cover anything inappropriate. I’ll only photograph your body, nothing else I promise”

“I undersif you say no, it’s not something you hear someone ask you everyday, and I -”

“I’ll do it” I press my finger against his lips keeping my own to my finger, “but, I expect payment in return”

I could almost see his mind racing, trying out what I meant by - “payment?” I give him a wink as my own response but then he shifts again, his bulge still very much apparent.

“When do we start? I’m just a little too exited to have your hands all over me” if only he could understand the true meaning of my words.

Jungkook fumbles over his words a little bit before giving out a clear response.

“Would…would it be okay to start now… if that’s okay with you of course”

Slipping off Jungkook’s lap, I take the time to admire his ‘studio’ of sorts as he gathers the supplies needed for his submission. Paintings, what looked to be his, adorned the wall, books on other artists filled his shelves and an array of pottery pieces decorated the cabinets.

I turn to find him watching, smiling. “Don’t mind me, continue” I take an apple from a ceramic bowl I’m sure he made himself and take a bite, his eyes following every movement.

He gulped as he watched a trail of juice slowly glide it’s way down my chin, dropping to my chest.

“I-I’m ready… if you are” he finishes with a whisper without tearing his eyes away.

“Where do you want me?” This seed to snap him out of his daze, clearly having something else on his mind.

“Sorry?”

“Where do you want me positioned?” I clarified, setting down the apple. “O’oh - uhm - would over there be okay?”

Pointing to the only empty space in the room, he began setting up his camera with a clean dust sheet and a white wall as my backdrop. I made my way over, settling down on my knees with my hands placed in front - ready to be positioned any way he wanted.

Lifting up his camera and pointing it towards me, Jungkook visibly froze, taking me in. His eyes scanning over every inch of my body making me feel naked - maybe it would be better if I was.

Concluding this would be a better idea, I raised my right hand towards the strap of my bra and slowly pull it over my shoulder, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

"W-What are you doing?" I could practically see his heart ready to burst out of his chest like a comedy skit.

"I'm making it easier for you, wouldn't want the straps of my bra to be in shot now would we?" Jungkook made no move to capture any shots, just continuing to stare at my bra that was barely hanging on.

"Don't mind me, continue" I repeated the same words from earlier, "wouldn't want my photographer to get distracted" his eyes running over my cleavage as the blush begins to rise along his face.

Jungkook was still standing a fair distance away as I continued to tease him "Why are you so far away? surely you can't get any detailed shots from over there"

Stalking forward, he raised the camera level to his face as I heard the continuous shutter urging me on to proceed with my 'modelling'. My hands drifted from the tops of my thighs, across my stomach and leading towards my breasts, pushing them together as I stared straight into the lens of the camera, no doubt making contact with his own.

Continuing my many poses I leaned forward until I supported my weight on my hands and knees, my favourite position. Undoubtedly jungkooks too it looked like, with his tongue poking from between his lips and eyes trying not to linger for too long as to make me uncomfortable.

Crawling towards him as if he were my prey - no sudden movements as to startle him, I slipped my fingers between the loops of his school trousers, drawing him closer.

My hand wandered up towards the hand that helped support his camera, grasping his fingertip and letting it glide across the soft skin of my cheek, towards my lips where I placed a gentle kiss to the tip before letting them run down my neck, slower and slower down my chest, stopping at the valley between my breasts.

I guide his hand to push off the other strap of my bra before letting his hand grasp my breast. His mouth falling ajar, I close my eyes for a second, liking how his hand brings more warmth to my body.

"I bet she wonders what it would feel like if you touched her or how it would feel to please you herself, I bet she was thinking about it the entire time" I refer back to Adi from earlier.

Jungkook's eyes dart back to mine again, "but she'll never know, will she?" he shakes his head.

"And why's that?" I inclined

"B-Because I only want you to please me, Y/n" My eyes almost roll to the back of my head, his voice comes out deeper, sinned with lust.

I leaned up as far as I could on my knees to grasp Jungkook by the collar, his silver cross dangling in my face as if daring me to tarnish everything he'd ever known. Leading him by the collar and causing him to lean forward, I moved towards his ear, allowing his eyes to take in the rounds of my tits, "I know, I just wanted to hear you say it"

"Y/n... I want-" he cuts himself off as if the sinful words had burnt him, forbidding him from letting his desires take control.

"You want what Kookie? You have to say it" I slowly let my gaze wander down to the hard-on in his slacks, he had to be uncomfortable from the restrictions of his pants.

"Do you want me to touch you Kookie? Is that what you want? I need you to use your words or I won't know what it is you want" He visibly gulps, biting his lower lip as my hand only slowly creeps its way down from the collar of his shirt towards his aching dick before moving away back to his thigh.

"Y/n... please... can you touch me?" I almost moan just by the desperation in his voice, I begin to unbuckle his belt, running my hand over his bulge before taking him out of his slacks

Now standing straighter, Jungkook stood towering over me, the camera held in his hand lay limp by his side.

I sucked in a harsh breath, he was big. So fucking big and perfect.

I never believed in the saying that it was always the quiet ones but fuck was I a believer now. "I-Is this alright?" I just about managed to tear my eyes away and turning my gaze to him, almost like he wanted to hide himself away because I had been staring for far too long.

The sight of his pre-cum waiting at the tip of dick, teasing me.

"It's perfect, so damn perfect" Jungkook visibly relaxed a little but that didn't stop him from blushing harder.

"Why don't you start recording hm? that way you can capture more shots without having to focus, consider this as your payment" I instruct as I use my index finger to run up the base of his dick, Jungkook letting his mouth fall open with a nod.

Slowly and with a small shake of his hand, he lifted the camera in time to capture me squeeze the head of his dick, making him release a moan that could make anyone wet or pass out.

Using one hand I reach behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it fall to the floor while the other kept a hold on his dick. I pushed out my chest, causing his entire face to go red.

"Do you fantasise about them? How soft they would feel in your hand, massaging them? Or having them wrapped around your cock while I look at you with such innocent eyes until you cum?" stroking him with an occasional twist of my hand.

"Or how good they'd look in your mouth?" I wanted... no, needed to touch myself but this was about him, my little kookie.

"Oh my..." I watched his chest heave up and down, my nipples pushed out even more.

"I bet you would love to feel my lips around you, sucking and letting my tongue tease over your tip. The feeling of wanting to cum over my tits or deep down my throat, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you" He quickly nods his head and I don't think he's realised he's admitted to it.

"You're so hard Jungkook, you're being so good for me right now" his hips bucked up, his muscles bulging under the sleeves of his shirt allowing me to make a mental note that he liked to be praised.

"Y/n... I'm - I - I... oh please keep going" His words became a complete mess as he grew closer, he throbbed in my hand. I wasn't planning on stopping.

"Cum for me Kookie, let me make you feel good" I sped up the pace of my hand, making sure to run my thumb over the tip before using his pre-cum as lubricant to squeeze the base of him.

Jungkook went to bite down on his lip but I tapped his thigh making him stop his actions. "I want to hear you, cum in my hand" he never looked away, even when I thought he would, he didn't.

With each twist of my hand, I knew only one thing would set him off completely.

Almost as if he knew something was coming, my eyes shined with a devious glint.

I places a short kiss to the tip of him setting him off, making him squeeze his hands into fists causing his veins to pop. I placed another one on the base of his dick, the second kiss making him lean his head back and his shoulders sag as his thighs tense on either side of me.

I was pressing my thighs together almost painfully to where my knees dug into the wooden floor watching him unravel in my hand.

His brown hair was now wet due to sweat, sticking to his forehead and glasses slipping from their original position. Sweat droplets running down his panting chest I so desperately wanted to lick.

When he calmed down, he said nothing. I got up from the floor and grabbed the camera he had still been holding and placed it on a side table, continuing the recording.

We weren't finished yet, far from it.

I made my way back to Jungkook and took a hold of his hands, leading him to step out of his now fallen pants and over to where I was originally posed but this time, I had him on his knees.

My pretty boy.

Placing my hands on his head, combing through his damp strands with his head tilted back and eyes blissfully closed, I let them wander down to his neck and over his shoulders. Sinking to my knees to gain more access with my hands I continued my wandering across his chest, feeling it constantly begin to lift and fall.

I continued my travels down over his abs that I dream of kissing my way down to scratch with my nails as I ride him until we both cum.

I lick my lips and admire the sight in front of me, my little Kookie in nothing but his unbuttoned shirt. I rub over his dick, giving him an occasional squeeze as I kiss the spot below his ear.

"Did you like it when I did this?" I squeeze him one more time and he responds by releasing a small whimper, urging me to continue my assault.

Releasing the grip I had, I placed my hands on his chest once again, gently pushing him to lay on his back, letting me straddle him as he finally cracks open his eyes to stare at me with those big doe eyes of his.

He watched me carefully and let his body relax when I brushed his tip with my thumb. My hand hardly fit around him going down the base.

can already tell by the way he's looking at me more than anything else that he's nervous.

"Shouldn't I... uhm. I read that I could make you feel good if I..." He dropped his eyes between my thighs and fully blushed.

I covered his lips with my own, my bare chest meeting his. When I pull away he's blushing even more, his eyes can't seem to figure where to focus.

"Just let me take care of you, okay?" He responds with a shy nod, I bite my lip at all the ideas I had planned for the future.

It may not be my first time but it is his and the last thing I want is to overwhelm him knowing that he's trusting me to be his first time.

So I start slow, leaving painfully sow kisses from his sharp jaw, making a trail down to his neck. The spot where his pulse lies is beating against my lips, telling me he's not only nervous but that he wants it as much as I do.

I push myself lower, kissing down his chest until I get to his unbelievably and perfectly cut abs which rise at the rhythm of his chest.

He licks his lips and it makes me want to kiss them and bite on them like I know he loves and turn them red until we're breathing like maniacs.

I graze my fingertips up the sides of his shaft, Jungkook's body tensing and calming down as my lips come in contact with him, I kiss from the tip all the way down as if I was making sure he never forgets the print of my lips on him.

My lips finally part around his cock, I arch my back so he can see the curve of my ass and the two dimples staring back at him.

My left hand works the middle section of cock while my tongue swirls around his head. I hollow out my cheeks, bringing out my cheekbones more, and to hear the "mmphs" coming from him as keeps a hand through his hair, tugging on it slightly.

I twist my hand up and down on him, liking how he unravels simply by my hand and mouth. I continue to pump him while flicking my tongue over his tip which makes him let out a deep breath.

My lips are probably glossed by now and my hair must be absolutely everywhere. His hand reaches out and pushes the hair that's fallen over my shoulder back to get a better view of my face.

"I-I like watching... you" It's hard for me to keep myself going, I could never have imagined Jungkook ever saying things like that.

When I remove him from my mouth, I can tell he was close but I didn't want him to cum just yet.

"We're not done yet" Jungkook continued to pant while I reached over into my bag I had left by the door and dug through to find a condom, followed by the loss of my underwear.

Jungkook sat up straighter, both of our eyes were glued to each other as I rolled the condom onto him, I slowly crawled myself to his side.

"If it becomes too much just tap my thigh twice and I'll stop" I remind him and I swing my other leg on the other side of his thigh.

I guide him between my clit, coating the condom with my wetness. Making sure I kept eye contact with him before pressing the head at my entrance and slowly sinking down. When I feel half of him inside me, we break eye contact and my mind turns off.

Fuck.

The room was silent other than the sound of both our moans being mixed together.

It felt like I was a virgin all over again, I had to let myself adjust to his size, I knew it wasn't going to be easy to fit him inside of me and fuck was he big.

Looking back at Jungkook, he had his head tilted back on the floor, his Adam's Apple bobbed and his neck covered in a sheet of sweat. I burned the image into my head.

If I could take a picture of this I would, but I guess the video would have to suffice I thought as I turned my head and stared straight at the camera, giving a little wink.

Turning my attention back to Jungkook, "Are you okay?" I managed to control myself for his well-being. "Do you still want to do this?"

"Y - You... t - this... I can't even think straight" He pants. "I still want this... with you" Everytime he opened his mouth I felt myself pulsing around him, causing whimpers to slip from his tongue.

I feel the vibrations of chest when I begin to move, he grunts with need, and my body jerks.

"Please keep g-going" He begged, his hands on my hips, and my hips began to move down on top of him, my chest was close to his face while his eyes were solely focused on me.

My hips rock themselves on their own accord, I focus on the way his body reacts, how his eyes try to flutter close but he won't let them.

"I like it when y - you do that" Jungkook leans his head back once more but I grab his jaw and direct his head back to me.

"Tell me what you like, tell me everything you like that I do that makes you feel good" I slowly rolled my hips in the same action and his mouth falls open and that damned groan that could make anyone incredibly horny just from hearing it caused me to do it again.

"T - That, when you go slow like that... I like that a lot" I repeat the action and this time I lift myself and drop on him causing soft whimpers to leave him before he can catch them.

"A - And when you... when you kiss me while you bounce like... Y/n don't stop" Our lips colliding and my lower half continues to connect down onto his.

He closes his eyes when I continue to lift and drop back down in repeated actions and pause to roll my hips down but I tap his cheek.

"Look at me Kookie, don't you think I look pretty when I ride you?" i bite my lip with a smile, knowing it's hard for him to get any clear form of a sentence out.

His eyes are half-lidded like he can't keep his eyes open. He pushes his hair out of his face and kept his eyes locked with mine.

"Mhm, I - I think you look... Y/n you're going to have to stop if you want me to answer you... I can't talk when you feel like this or when you move like that" This only caused me to speed up my pace, my hips rolling in a way which makes his nails pinch into my skin.

I feel myself clenching around him, I would be a fucking liar if I said I didn't feel so good right now.

Every time I feel his cock leave and enter me, my mind can't seem to think of anything else other than driving us both to finish.

I place my hands on his shoulders and this time it's my head being thrown back as I ride him faster and faster, I feel my body let go and enjoy the pleasure and it feels as if I had finally got my fix of a drug as If I was having withdrawals.

His hair was sticking to his forehead and his brown eyes were studying me. They were watching every facial expression I made when I felt him his deeper inside of me each time I dropped down onto him. They study how my body reacts when his hands meet my skin and how my nipples ache to feel his tongue.

He reads me like a book, leaning forward I feel the warmth of his tongue on one of my nipples and my other being rolled between his index and middle finger.

"Fuck how did you..." He manages to get me to say as I roll this time and feel my entire body heat and melt.

I remember how I also read that women gain pleasure from this kind of stimulation... and I like the sounds you make when I do it, do you like it?" Did he not hear me? Or did he just like being told how skilled his tongue was becoming by the minute?

He stares up at me while he continues to swirl his tongue around the bud and squeezes at my other boob, my pussy wraps around him like a vice making him release a string of moans around my nipple and it sends waves of pleasure through my body.

"Shit..." I grind my hips into him at a rhythm that makes him stop and drop his head between my breasts.

His hands instinctively fly to my waist, guiding me at the same pace my hips move. I lift his head by gently grabbing his hair.

"Let me see how good I feel, don't look away from me" I watch the pleasure write itself across his face, his eyes say it all and his moans only encourage me further, he couldn't hide it even if he wanted to.

My hips buck and he lifts his own to match mine which causes me to grip around him. I felt like cumming on the spot when I felt the warmth oh his tongue on my neck.

Jeon Jungkook was giving me hickies, from my neck to the top of my breasts while he whimpered against my skin as if he couldn't help it.

"Y - You just feel too good... so good" His eyes are slipping closed again but he doesn't let them, his nails dig into my hips and the sting feels so good, my own nails scratch down his chest and abs as I've been wanting to do from the start.

My hands slide up his body to hold onto his muscles and my hips buck faster into his.

Jungkook's breathing was ragged, all over the place, my body was set on eagerness, and I arched my back into into his body. Jungkook wrapped his arms around my waist tighter and brought me closer, I rose my head to face the ceiling, sounds left me almost pathetically.

"I - If you keep moving your hips like that, you're going to make me cum" His jaw tightened, I slid my hand through his brown hair and pulled his head back.

"That's what I want, I want you to cum for me Jungkook" His hips tense below me when his cock throbs inside me, and his face flushes deeply.

Not only was he close but so was I, all I could focus on in that moment was the that stupid cross necklace as if shaking its head at me in disappointment.

"Y/n..." I made sure to watch how he moaned my name and how he squeezed my hips tightly while his hips bucked as I kept going.

He twitched inside of me, no doubt filling the condom and mouth dropped open as I could feel every drop he let out. It caused my body to writhe against his, shuddering while I moaned his name as if it was the only word in my vocabulary.

I dropped my head against him, our bodies felt stuck together, combining into one like they didn't want to be apart from the other.

It took us two minutes to calm down, my chest was heaving against his and my throat felt sore from all the moaning as well as the nice sting from the marks he left on my neck and hips.

Lifting my head to look at his face I wiped the corners of his eyes with my thumbs, ridding the post-sex tears that threatened to fall.

Once he eventually opened his eyes, I took the liberty of checking over him, making sure he was okay.

Once I concluded he was, my attention was brought back to the chain around his neck.

a symbol of innocence, faith, purity.

Combing back his damp hair, I leaned towards his ear, "Think of me when you try and pray your sins away tonight"

Let’s hope his father never comes across this video.

thank you @mikrokosmosjk for waiting so patiently >.<

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

#きたない 📍#🧸ྀི ✩˖ ࣪‧₊#゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜𝒃𝒕𝒔 成人向け #bts jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut

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