#so... yeah eleven years old? that sounds about right | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mismatched-sockss · 3 months

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You're my future, past and present

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 6,4k » Warnings: spoiler mentioned for 9x23 Angels / 9x24 Demons, Spencer's POV, exes to lovers, set after s15, anxious!Spencer, reader feels guilty at one point, language? (one 'bitch' from reader to reader), mentions of past fights, minor misunderstandings, random old lady plays cupid <3, fluff, kissing, how many phrases for being in love can one pack in two paragraphs? me: yes., » A/N: my brain is on strike for finishing bingo fics for some reason, it instead gave us this so yay!, i'm still working on those of course but i can't tell when i will get the next one done (in the words of one Penelope Garcia: Why do the last 10% always take the longest?), hopefully by the end of the week; it's lightly implied that reader can get pregnant in the beginning but it's not explicitly said (only mentions of kids), which is the reason i tagged it as fem but no mentions of anything body related or any pronouns (i think so, please let me know if i missed pronouns), so it might as well can be read as gn; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

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He should have asked Penelope for a favour to look you up, before he came here. He had no idea how your life had changed in all these years he hadn't seen you or if you even wanted to see him again. It didn't particularly sound like it the last time he saw you.

You could be happily married with kids for all he knew. The thought alone almost made him turn around without even knocking on your door. He didn't know what he would do if this was the case. Or maybe you didn't even live here any more, you could have moved; to the other side of the city, to another state. Another country. You had toyed with the idea to move to Scotland back then, it very well could be that you had acted on it.

Too much time had past, five whole years – five years, three months, twenty-one days and eleven hours, forty-two minutes to be exact; but who was counting, right? – and there was too much history, too much heartbreak. Too many reasons why it hadn't worked out.

The main – and kind of only – ones being his job at the BAU and everything that came with it. The travelling and never being home, not even a free day or annual leave really meant not getting called in, the late nights, the worries that he could get hurt and may not be coming back home, the worries when he got hurt.

You had your reasons to break it off and he still thought that you were right to do so. He never held it against you, never resented you for leaving. Because he understood. If the roles would have been reversed, he may would have made the same decisions.

This whole idea was stupid. Why was he even here. He should just leave.

What did he think would happen when you saw him? That showing up out of nowhere – with no contact since the break up, not even a single text message – and having a 'new' job would change everything and would make you jump back into his arms in an instant like nothing happened? Yeah... Sure...

Maybe, deep down and in the tiniest crack of his heart, he didn't even want you to open the door; didn't want to see your reaction to him just showing up and the inevitable rejection that would surely come. He was sabotaging himself, really. And if he would be more honest to himself, he'd knew that. Maybe he did, but just didn't want to see it.

Spencer had been pacing back and forth in front of your door for an eternity by now; walking closer to it and already lifting his hand to knock, but changing his mind before his fingers even came close and he was walking a few feet away to leave, only to change his mind again and repeat the whole ordeal. Over. And over. And over.

He just couldn't make his mind up, he didn't know what to do. It shouldn't be this hard to knock on a door. Especially yours. But maybe it was this hard for him because it was yours.

At one point, he, a man of science, even asked the universe to give him a sign, to show him what he should do; if he should do it or if he should go.

That's when it happened.

Right after, as he was walking closer to the door again, he tripped over his own damn feet and he ended up kicking the door with his shoe; not hard, but audible enough.

Shit. Not the sign he was looking for. A pedestrian screaming something outside that he could twist into an answer, a car honking when he either was close to the door or walking away; hell, even a spam mail popping up on his phone that had a certain word in the subject line... No, it had to be this way.

Now he had to knock.

Taking a shaky breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood a couple of times and started fidgeting with his fingers as soon as he had lowered his hands. His heart was in his throat as he waited anxiously. His mind in a constant battle of 'please be home' and 'please don't be home'.

A moment later – both too short and too long at the same time – the door opened just a crack and it was really you standing there. Not some random person that would tell him you moved. You.

You didn't turn your head just yet, looking back over your shoulder instead, you held out your arm behind you and said “Stay there” in a soft voice to someone behind you. When you turned you blocked the entrance with your body and kept your left hand on the door.

Your eyes grew wide when you saw him. Spencer probably was about the last person you would have expected to see when you opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to break the silence first, didn't dare to speak.

“Oh, hey... Uh-”, you stammered looking for words, blinking in confusion. For a moment you opened and closed your mouth, and he knew you were hating that you looked like a fish out of the water, before you gave up and just settled for another “Hi.”

“Hi.” He hated how shaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands and the floor before he met your gaze again.

“Wow, it- it's been a while.”

“Yeah...”

“How long 's it been? Five years?”

“Five years, three months and twenty-one days.” Spencer pressed his lips together before he could blurt out the hours and minutes as well.

You laughed – not mean, but endearing – and the sound combined with the smile that spread on your lips made his heart leap. “Right.”

God, how much he had missed your laugh; how much he had missed you. Now that you stood before him, it became evident, that all the longing and yearning he had felt in the past years had been nothing more than a fraction of what he was really feeling; repressed by throwing himself into work and keeping his mind off you as much as he could.

His love for you never went away, never dulled even the slightest bit, and seeing you now was almost too overwhelming for him, his feelings for you crashing over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Uhm, I was just about to go to the park with Cleo”, you started, shooting a look over your shoulder and Spencer's heart dropped. He could have sworn it stopped beating for a few seconds as well. The Stay there hadn't rung any alarms in his mind, it could have been said to any person really. Going to the park with Cleo however...

He really should have asked Penelope to look you up before he came. You had a kid.

And since he could only see the heel of your left hand and not your fingers, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but there was a high chance there was a ring on your finger.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hold you up. I'll just, uhm-”, he stammered choked up and pointed his thumbs over his shoulder, taking a step back, about to turn away and leave.

“No”, you exclaimed, maybe a bit too quickly and panicked, as you held out your right hand like you wanted to reach for his arm; even making a small step out of the door. “You don't have to leave. You could- uh, you could come with us? If you want to.” If he wouldn't know better, he'd say there was a pleading look in your eyes, begging him to say yes and stay.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

'Yes sure, let's go to the park with your daughter and rip my heart into pieces seeing and hearing about you living the life I dreamt of having with you, with another man'.

A plain 'No.' would be too rude, wouldn't it? Even if he would add a 'thank you' at the end, it didn't feel right.

“She uh- she likes meeting new people, she's really open; sometimes I'm afraid she'll walk off with anyone. Come here, girl.” You looked over your shoulder again and tapped your flat hand against your thigh a couple of times, then some clicking and scratching could be heard behind you on the parquet floor.

The speckled snout of an Australian Shepherd pushed in the space between your knee and the door, then tried to push through further after seeing Spencer. With a laugh you took a hold of the collar and held the dog back from running out.

“Cleo, stay.” You squatted down next to her, petting her head and scratched behind her ear. ”I have to warn you, she can be a bit rough when she gets excited.” A wide smile was on your face as you looked up at Spencer. “I've been trying to teach her to not jump up on everyone she meets, but it doesn't stick.”

Just like that, he felt like he could breathe again. Cleo wasn't your daughter but your dog and the ring you were indeed wearing on your left hand was one he recognized from your jewellery box.

A relieved chuckle left his lips and he mirrored your position. He held out his hand for Cleo to smell before he touched her. She really was excited; she was pulling against your hold and tried to get closer, her tail was waggling so hard her whole body moved in the rhythm and she nudged her nose against his palm hard after a short sniff, so he would pet her.

You did your best to hold her back, but after Spencer verbally said hi to her and was petting her on both sides of her head she surged forward; your hand slipped from the collar and Cleo threw her whole weight against him, making him loose balance and topple over.

With an outstretched arm he held himself up, laughing, as your dog rubbed her head against his torso and hand and was spinning around a couple of times between his legs, repeatedly leaning herself into him with every turn.

“Cleo!” Your voice had a warning tone to it that hadn't fully replaced your laugh though, not until she let out a small bark and started to lick over his face. “No! Stop!” You pulled her away and moved her back into the apartment; Cleo only reluctantly complied.

Before he could react, you shuffled closer on your knees until you kneeled right before him and in between his legs. You reached out and started to wipe the side of his face clean; the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your fingers. “I'm so sorry, she's usually not that excited. I have never seen her do this to someone that isn't me.”

He froze when you got close and he felt your touch, every soft stroke leaving behind a trail of fire, even with the thin fabric barrier between you. One would think his heart couldn't pound any faster in his chest than it already had since he had laid eyes on you again, but it did.

“It's- hu, it's okay”, he stammered as he was watching you intensely, with wide eyes.

“No, it's not”, you said softly and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, slightly tilting his head to the side as you tried to get everything off. “Do you want a wet wipe or something? You can come in and wash your face if you'd prefer that.”

Spencer couldn't help the smile stretching on his lips, his heart warming over the fact that you were still looking out for him, after all these years; after everything that had happened and all the things that had been said the day you broke up with him. His hand moved on its own accord and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Really, it's okay.”

You met his gaze, heat rising in your cheeks and it was like you only now realized how close the both of you were sitting and that you were touching him. For a second you froze, your eyes wide. Then, after a deep breath, you pulled back to bring some distance between you and cleared your throat, looking away.

He could tell there was an apology forming on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. You began to nervously fidget with the hem of your sleeve and cleared your throat. “So, uh, do you want to come with us? There is this coffee shop on the way that opened about six months ago and they're really good, we- we could grab a coffee and catch up...?”

“I'd really like that.”

It was easy, talking to you. The initial awkwardness and anxiety he had been feeling had quickly faded and the both of you were talking as freely and open as before, like no time had passed; and he was incredibly grateful for it. Neither of you had been going to personal topics for now though – the closest thing to personal in a deeper sense was when you asked about his mom –, the both of you had been talking more about everything and anything.

[..] Did you end up getting that book collection you had your eyes on? - When did you get Cleo? - Oh, do you remember my coworker Grace? All the rumours really were true! - Is your neighbour still vacuuming solely in the middle of the night? [..]

About halfway to the park you stopped at the café you had mentioned and while you were waiting in line, you told him about the different coffee varieties they offered; the flavours, how strong they were, how sweet, the seasonal ones. You had drunk your way through the list three times and until you decided on your Top 5.

He crinkled his nose in adoration as he was listening to you rambling about the coffee – what you liked about each one and why you didn't like another – totally engrossed by you; you had done this in the past as well and it made Spencer happy that you still were. It was adorable. He wondered, if you still wrote down your Top 5's in that little notebook you had always kept in your purse.

The one you recommended to him was really good, you had met his taste precisely; the perfect amount of sweetness just how he liked it, and with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

There were many occasions he was about to reach for your hand, it was almost instinctually when you were this close to him. He didn't know if you would let him, if you would want it. So Spencer didn't. Instead he buried his hand deep into the pocket of his coat to keep himself from reaching for you, holding a tight grip on an old pack of gum he forgot was even in there.

Throughout the whole way from your apartment to the park, Cleo was happily dancing around you, just shy of making one of you trip over her. That she didn't circle around the both of you to wrap the leash around your legs – all '101-Dalmatians'-like – was all.

After you arrived at the park you walked a bit further in until you came to a fenced area that seemed to be reserved for dogs for them to freely run around without having to be leashed. As soon as you unhooked the leash from Cleo's collar she dashed forward, joining a group of dogs playing.

Spencer and you sat down on a bench and just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching her. His hands got clammy as he got nervous because of the proximity, and he tried to wipe them on his pants as discreetly as he could. You were sitting so close to him, your thighs and shoulders were almost touching; he could feel the warmth radiating from your body and with every soft breeze the smell of your shampoo got carried over.

“So, uh... How have you been?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He huffed out a small laugh and licked over his lips. Where should he even begin. “Long story short? Not good then somewhat okay, bad, worse, better, okay.”

"Sounds like one hell of a roller coaster."

Oh you had no idea how much. And 'hell' sounded about right to be honest. "You could say that... How about you?"

"Wasn't much going on for me to be honest. I've been... okay? After some time at least...”, you admitted nervously, following Cleo with your eyes. “Everything alright at the BAU? How is everyone?”

“Good, they're good.” Spencer started telling you about all the changes within the team, but he left out all the bad stuff for now – he told you about Alex leaving, about Tara joining after practically a 36 hour long job interview for the open position, JJ and Will having a second child, that Morgan left and had married Savanah and that they had a son as well, Garcia vehemently trying – but ultimately failing – to hate the newbie Luke.

“Rossi got married last year.”

“Really? Again?” You let out a soft laugh.

“He re-married his third wife actually. They got back together after-” He had to stop for a second and swallowed hard as the spark of hope was reigniting in his chest. If Dave and Krystall had found their way back to each other after thirty years and made it work, five years didn't sound all that bad in retrospective. He tried to play it off like he was trying to remember the exact number of years. “Around three decades, I think.”

“Wow... That's a lot of time..”

“It is.” For a short moment Spencer didn't say anything more, trying to muster up the courage to tell you he left the team as well.

“And I- uh” He huffed out a small laugh, nervous, and let his gaze wander over the meadow. There he goes... “I'm not- I'm not with the BAU any more, actually.”

“...Oh”

For a moment you didn't say anything else and his heart beat faster. He couldn't a hundred percent gauge what your silence meant. What the oh meant. Did you care? Were you relieved or maybe even sad for him? Could – would – it change anything between you, even after all this time? Would you give the both of you a second chance? Him?

Hope started to rise up again in his chest and he tried to stop it and keep it at bay, so it wouldn't take over him; it would only crush him even more to lose you a second time if he'd let it happen. Spencer's breathing became more shallow and slightly faster as he waited for you to say more.

He could just turn his head to look at your face of course, study your expressions to get his answer without you saying another word. He didn't. Something held him back; maybe it was only because he was respecting your wishes from years ago not to profile you. Maybe it was fear of what he would see.

He heard you clear your throat and when you spoke, your voice was shaking, almost undetectable however. If you wouldn't sit so close to him – and if it wouldn't be you and he wouldn't be him – one probably wouldn't have noticed. “Why not?”

“Re-assignment due to budget-cuts or something like that. There were a couple of people higher up the food chain than Emily that had it out for us for a couple of years now.” His eyes followed Cleo sprinting over the grass, chasing and playing with the other dogs.

“Emily is back?”, you asked. The last thing you knew was that she had left for London not long after she came back from the dead.

“Yeah, she took over from Hotch after-” He stopped himself.

Telling you about Hotch and Scratch and why Emily fully became Unit Chief of the BAU, meant he had to tell you about everything else; everything that had happened to him. He just wasn't ready for this yet. This would have to be a story for another day; for both your and his sake.

“Anyway, I uh- I'm teaching now. Full-time. Mostly at the academy and some colleges here and there. But all in all-” Spencer took a deep breath. “Fixed work hours and no travelling for longer than a day.”

Only when he felt you tense up did he bring himself to look at you. You were sitting up with a straight back, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Your eyes were darting around and he watched a muscle twitch on your jaw.

He quickly looked away again, concentrating on Cleo again, before he could read you more. He couldn't help it, it was hard not to and turn it off. By now profiling was in his blood, it was a subconscious habit he couldn't always control, it just happened. You didn't want to get profiled, so he did what he could do to not use his profession on you. If it meant turning away and not look at you, even if he was only looking just to see you, he'd do it.

Also, he knew that he was biased; another reason why he shouldn't. What he would see and read would not be accurate. Usually, this was not a problem, he could read body language and micro-expressions with a 99,42% accuracy, since he'd do it with a neutral stand. But right now it was personal.

What ever Spencer would see in your non-verbal communication, he was too involved to not let his judgement get clouded by his feelings for you, his hopes and his fears. He would only see what he wanted to see, or what he not wanted to see, depending on which part of his heart was winning at the moment; the confident and hopeful part, or the insecure and anxious part.

“That's... That's nice. Do you like it?” He wished, he knew what you were thinking right now. Your tone didn't give much away on how you were feeling, but you seemed a bit more relaxed to him.

“Yeah, it's fun. There are some key topics on the curriculum I have to cover of course, but other than that I have pretty much full reign over the subject matters. Learning is more fun when it is about something you're really interested in, so I take suggestions from my students for a lot of the lectures. It's been paying off already.” He smiled proudly. “They contribute more and most grades have gone up.”

Slowly, the longer you talked as the evening proceeded and the sun slowly began to set, he let himself go, allowed his heart to open up and he welcomed the prospect of having you back in his life – to what ever extent it may be, even if only as a friend if that was what you wanted.

His heart had leaped when you shared you weren't seeing anyone and it hadn't slowed down it's pace ever since. Both of you had been talking and asking about it in the most complicated and conspicuously inconspicuous ways one can ask 'are you dating someone?'.

Not only this, but you wanted to spent more time with him. Spencer couldn't believe his luck. It was almost too good to be true and he feared he might wake up from this wonderful dream any minute.

He could tell how nervous you were when you asked him; hands and voice shaking, fingers fidgeting with Cleos leash in your lap, your eyes not daring to meet his.

"Tonight is this big bonfire at the Benson's farm, you know, the one with the apple orchard? I was thinking of going and.. maybe if you- I mean, if you are free tonight and want, uh- Would you like to go with me?"

There was nothing he'd rather do, nowhere he'd rather be.

After a short stop at your apartment to bring Cleo home and for the both of you to freshen up, you made your way to the farm. It was a fairly short drive and the roads were mostly empty as it got later, a bright full moon illuminating the way now.

When you arrived, there weren't too many people present. It felt more like a large family gathering than a big event. At a decent distance were benches placed around the huge bonfire, there was a tent where various beverages and a few food options were served. Next to it stood a truck from the fire department and an ambulance; a precaution if the fire got out of control or someone got hurt.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood, french fries, beer and Mrs. Benson's home made apple pie.

Sorry, Mr. Benson's apple pie as Spencer learned some time after you arrived. You introduced him to the hosts and you started to talk about a new recipe for the pie filling you had tried to make and Mr. Benson explained what he would have done different than the recipe you found had stated.

The Benson's were nice people – he had met them once when he had accompanied you to the farm to get apples and honey. You had gotten closer to them since then, dropping by to help them out from time to time, especially when it was time for the harvest.

He had to catch his breath as his heart fluttered, his eyes glued to your face as he watched you talk with old man Benson. The way your eyes wrinkled at the corners when you smiled and the excited glint in your eyes, how the fire painted beautiful orange patterns on your face as the flames danced high, fuelled by the soft breeze; combined with the silvery light of the full moon shining bright. You looked ethereal.

Spencer became increasingly aware of said man's wife and her three friends, who stood a little farther away. The women were whispering to each other and kept looking over, one of them not so subtlety pointing at the both of you. They weren't talking badly, not at all; they were smiling and giggling as they were talking, nodding at what the other ones were saying, swooning with their hands over their hearts from time to time.

It could only mean one thing – and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, or not: that he all too obviously for everyone around looked as love struck as he felt; utterly bewitched by your beauty, completely head over heels, truly madly and deeply in love with you in every way, a total goner who was worshipping the ground you were walking on.

Thank god for the warm shine of the fire, or they would be able to see the blush rising up his neck in this moment as well... He just was glad that he had finished his piece of pie before this, otherwise he'd probably stand here with an open mouth and the fork frozen in mid air as he was looking at you. Now, that would have been a good picture.

What he didn't know though, was that they weren't just talking about the smitten look on his face, but yours as well. The longing glances you shot his way whenever he wasn't looking, how you were orbiting around him like the earth around the sun, a magnetic pull to each other that not even the both of you seemed to realise you had as you unconsciously stepped closer to the other when you stood too far apart. They talked about the fact, that you looked at Spencer with such a happy and beaming smile they hadn't seen on your face in a long time.

And that they could tell how hesitant and shy the both of you were about getting closer.

It's not like he didn't want to, believe me. The urge to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you – to kiss you – was still burning in every fibre of his body and it got more and more challenging to hold back, the longer he was around you. Leaving out the tiny part in him that was still afraid of getting rejected, he didn't want to impose on you by acting on it. He didn't want to possibly make you uncomfortable, so he left it to you to initiate any physical contact.

Admittedly, this was very much a bad plan if you were doing the same and were waiting for him to make the first move. However, the universe seemed to take matters in its own hands again.

Spencer had to remove himself from of the situation for a moment to restore some of his composure and not ogle you non-stop; especially not in front of all these people. He let you know that he would get the both of you something to drink and asked what he should get for you; when he came back, Mr. Benson had left.

For some time you stayed close to the fire, until he saw you lift your hand to fan yourself some air. “Too warm?”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. “Yeah, it starts getting a bit too much.”

He took the now empty cup from you and with a tilt of his head he signalled you to follow him. He gave the cups back to the person behind the make-shift bar counter and you walked a little farther away, putting some distance between you and both the tent and the fire. And the people too actually, the majority had gathered close around the flames in small groups.

“That's much better”, you sighed. “I like a nice fire as much as the next pers- oh.”

Before you could finish, you lost your balance when a body collided with yours from behind. You stumbled forward and Spencer instinctively reached out to catch you – he got a hold of your arms with a firm grip on them right above your elbows as you fell into him, bringing up your own hands to hold onto his shoulders.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry, I must have tripped over something. Are you okay?”, the voice of a woman came from behind you.

Neither of you let go of the other as you turned to face her. Spencer recognized her as one of the women that had talked with Mrs. Benson earlier and the look on her face told a whole different story than her words; that she wasn't sorry at all and that it had been deliberately planned to bump into you.

“I'm okay, no worries. Are you?”, you asked her and quickly scanned her for injuries.

“Ooh, I'm good. I'm good...”, she replied, almost in a sing-sang kind of tone and a wide smile on her lips. She snickered softly and walked away, her hand raised with a lazy kind of flick in her wrist as a wave good-bye.

The both of you watched her walk away, baffled.

“Okayyy”, you let out as you kept your eyes on her for a moment longer. “As long as she didn't twist her ankle or something.”

You turned your head, and just like earlier in front of your apartment, it seemed like you only just now realised the position you were in when your eyes met his. How close you were and that you were still holding on to each other.

Only this time, you didn't pull away.

The world around him seemed to fade away, time standing still, as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched and when his eyes flickered down to your lips, Spencer felt your grip on him tighten, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. His heart was in his throat and it beat so loud that he was sure you were able to hear it. He let his eyes wander back up and when he saw that you were looking at his lips as well, he threw all caution in the wind and just... did it.

He let go of your elbows, took your face in his hands and leaned in, hovering his lips over yours for a short moment to give you an out, to give you time to pull away, but you didn't; instead you closed the small space that was left between you.

A long and deep sigh rumbled in the back of his throat when your lips met and he pulled you closer; as you leaned into him, your hands moved higher until your fingers were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

When you pulled back – more than reluctantly, but the both of you were still in public – , you were panting, your breaths mingling as your faces were still so close to each other. Spencer kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, not quiet ready to open them yet, afraid that when he did, he would wake up from an incredibly vivid dream.

“I'm sorry”, you suddenly choked out, which made him open his eyes in an instant. Tears were streaming down your face and you took a step back, keeping him at arms length. “I am so sorry, Spencer.”

“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, please.” Your emotions had changed so suddenly, he didn't know what happened, what made you cry. He wasn't sure what he should do, how he could help you calm down.

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, shaking your head.

“What for?” Did you regret letting him get close to you again; kissing him? Did you regret, that you hadn't just closed the door right in his face as soon as you had seen him this afternoon?

“Everything!” you choked out. “For how I acted all the time and for leaving like that, for leaving when I did. That I didn't contact you even once. For saying all those things, it wasn't fair. It never was. You didn't deserve it. I was so mean for no reason...” You sniffled and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. “I regretted every word the moment I said it, I didn't mean any of it. I couldn't stop talking and it was like I was losing control over myself and it all just came out and-....”

“Hey, I know...” Spencer took a small step closer to you. “In that moment it hurt, yes. And it took a lot of time until it stopped hurting; sometimes it still does. But I get it. You were scared. Some people get angry and lash out at the people around them when they are scared, especially directed at the person they are scared for; everyone reacts different. It's a totally normal reaction, I don't blame you.“

A sob came over your lips, your face twisting in pain. “Please don't be like that...”

His brows furrowed, a short and sharp pain in his chest. “Like what?”, he breathed out.

“So understanding... I acted like a total bitch to you! You should hate me... Why don't you hate me?” Your voice broke and got smaller with every word.

The corners of his mouth slightly raised to the whisper of a smile and Spencer closed the distance between you, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. He wholeheartedly meant what he said next; there was not one thing he could think of that would change anything about it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You were shot. You needed me and left you alone and-”

“I've had worse. Before that day in Texas and certainly after”, he trailed off and softly shook his head when your brows furrowed even more, pain and fear so evidently in your eyes; he could tell that you knew he wasn't talking about anything related to the break-up.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Spencer brushed your tears away, holding your face so gently in his hands as if you'd break into a million pieces if he wasn't careful enough. By the looks of it, you may very well would. Not a risk he was willing to take.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he stopped you from asking what had happened after, by placing his thumb over your lips. “Not tonight.” Gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth. “We'll talk about it all and I will tell you everything, I promise. Just.. not tonight, okay?”

He wanted to stay in that little bubble you had created a little longer and ignore everything else but the feeling of having you back in his arms, being able to kiss and hug and touch you again, he just wanted to revel in your presence and your love. Everything else could wait; the guilt, the talking it out, the pain and especially all the bad stuff he had held back.

You pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket until there was no room left between you. For a second you fought with yourself, your eyes darting back and forth between his like you were looking for something in his gaze before you acted on what you wanted to do. Then-

“I love you.”

Before he could say, think or do anything else, Spencer dove down and pressed his lips against yours, smiling widely into the kiss. His heart was racing and he felt like a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders that he didn't even know he had been carrying. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I love you.”

He couldn't hold back his own soft laugh when he heard you giggle happily before you said: “I can't believe you still want me...”

“It's you. It's always been you and it always will be you.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosts can write #💜 s.r.#--- mismatched🧦

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 8 months

Text

Innocence

Remus Lupin x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), fingering, slight hand job, virgin reader, purity ring 😮‍💨, making out, underage smoking, mention of underage drinking, slight innocence/ corruption kink, lmk if i missed any!

summary: remus learns the ring you wear everyday is called a purity ring, and he develops a strange obsession with it… and wanting to take it off you…

word count: 4.6k

a/n: guys.. dw there’s gonna b a part two but like omgggggg this made me feel so many things i’m in love with this. lmk what you think :) also i’m not religious so if any of this is not accurate i’m sorry lol it’s for the plot

part two is posted!!! here

~~~

Ever since he knew you, Remus noticed that one thing you always wore. It was plain, a simple gold band on your left ring finger, the marriage finger. Typically, such nonsense wouldn’t cross his mind twice, but you wore that ring damn ring every day. Since the first time he ever saw you, that ring was on your finger. He never saw you without it. So, his curiosity got the better of him.

Why would such a simple ring be so important that you never took it off? It couldn’t have been because you were married. No. You wore it even at the young age of eleven. Could it have been a family heirloom? That idea was plausible, however to him, it didn’t feel like the correct answer. And Remus Lupin always needed the correct answer.

So, he eventually decided to ask you.

During dinner one night, when you just so happened to be sitting next to him, his eyes caught sight of the ring and he eyed it suspiciously. You noticed this.

“Something wrong Rem?” You asked.

He looked up from the ring on your delicate finger to meet your confused eyes. “Why do you always wear that specific ring? And always on that finger? Is it special?”

“Oh.” You laughed for a few seconds. “Yeah, it’s stupid really, an old muggle tradition.” You composed yourself and looked up at him, a slight red tint to your cheeks. “It’s called a purity ring. Basically, I wear it as a reminder that I pledged to wait till marriage.”

Remus was confused, and he hated being confused. “Why would anyone wait till marriage?”

You shrugged. “Muggle religion is quite weird. They value keeping teenagers pure until they’re married. I think it’s stupid, but I still wear it.”

“So, you’ve done it but continue wearing it as a... symbol?” He questioned.

“Oh no, I haven’t done it. I might find it stupid, but I still plan to keep my promise. It’s sort of a nice accomplishment don’t you think? I’ve gone through two years of everyone shagging around me and I haven’t given in,” you answered.

He stared at you for a few seconds. You were still a virgin, and that ring was the reason. He thought for a moment. How could you be a virgin? He swore he had seen you go off with a bloke from Ravenclaw a few months ago during a party. But then as his eyes trailed over your small figure, he realized the idea wasn’t completely impossible. He’d never seen you with hickeys, he’d never seen you dress improperly, and he surely had never seen you enter the common room after a long night with someone. For some reason, it made a strange feeling bloom deep inside him.

“Surely you’ve at least done other stuff, right?”

You simply shook your head and took a bite from your sandwich. “Furthest I’ve ever gone is having some Ravenclaws tongue down my throat.”

Ah, so he was right about that.

“Besides, I don’t really even know much about any of that stuff. I mean I know biology, but that’s about it. And of course, what Marls and Mary tell me from their extravagant experiences,” you added after swallowing.

So that meant...

“You haven’t done anything?” He was surprised, it was clear in his tone.

“No need to sound so flabbergasted. Besides, why do you even care about what I’ve done? I always thought you were the modest type too,” you replied with an eye roll.

Remus looked away from you, and the urge to smirk took him over. He thought back to those countless nights over the summer breaks he’d spent with muggle girls. The feelings, the sounds, the tastes, all experiences he’d never forget. But by no means was Remus Lupin a player, oh no. He was nothing like his mate. However, he also wasn’t a saint like everyone painted him out to be.

“I may be modest but that doesn’t mean I’m a virgin,” he said after a moment, his eyes finally turned back to you. He liked the way you looked at him. “That went away a few summers ago.”

You smiled, though something about it was off, almost as if it were forced. “Well, cheers to that.”

“Cheers.” He nodded in agreement.

You turned back to the group conversation before he could say anything else.

~~~

Remus had thought after finding out what the ring's importance was, he would let it go and move on. Unfortunately, he had thought wrong. Ever since that conversation with you, he couldn’t get any of it off his mind. When he’d see you, he’d always look at your left hand, almost making sure that ring was still there. It always was. And for some reason it made him feel almost relieved. He needed more answers.

Thankfully, another opportunity came not too long after the first.

The two of you had been paired together in potions. Typically, he would be a bit upset with the fact given you were never the best in the subject. But for the first time, he was pleased with the pairing.

He watched as you cut up some of the ingredients, that stupid ring shining from the lights. Questions filled his head. Where had you gotten it? When did you get it? Who gave it to you? Did your parents know what it meant? What were you supposed to do with it when the time finally came? He needed to get the answers.

“So, when did you get it?” He casually asked his eyes on the cauldron.

“Get what?”

“The ring.”

You chuckled. “You’re still on about that? I suppose you aren’t too accustomed to muggle things. I got it right before I came here actually. My parents wanted to give me a reminder about life at home, and they wanted to make sure I knew where my ‘loyalties’ lay. Though, I was only a little girl. Did they expect anything to happen at that young?”

Three questions were answered. Good.

Remus dropped his chopped ingredients into the cauldron. “Does that mean you give it back to them when you finally do it?”

“Oh no. I give it to my husband of course,” you replied. “Do these look alright?”

He finally turned his head in your direction and looked over your cutting board then he met your eyes. “Perfect. You can put them in.”

“You don’t know how good that makes me feel to hear. Master of potions Remus Lupin says I’m perfect, I could faint,” you said as you scrapped your work into the cauldron, a hint of laughter in your voice.

He rolled his eyes. “I said your cutting was perfect, but if it makes you feel good, I suppose you are too.”

You looked up at him with a glint in your eyes that made an odd feeling form in his chest. You looked so damn innocent. How had he not noticed it before? You had always been one of the shyer members of Gryffindor, but he always brushed it off as nothing important. He never would’ve guessed just how innocent you were.

“How sweet of you.” You giggled.

“ ’Course, anytime love.”

He noticed the shift in your body at his words. How odd. You looked away from him for a few seconds, that familiar rose tint returning to your cheeks. Did you always do that? Did such simple words always make you blush and turn away? Or was it just him? He watched you bite down on your lip and fiddle with your ring.

You were teasing him.

It was then he decided he was going to get that ring from you.

And you were going to love it.

~~~

Getting you to that point was going to take some time, Remus knew that. But it didn’t stop him. He started simply. When the two of you were hanging out in the group, he made sure to at least say a few words to you alone. When eating meals, he made sure to get a spot next to you. Most importantly though, he started making sure to leave subtle hints. Lingering eye contact, small touches that weren’t necessary, comments that made your face turn red. He could tell all of it made you flustered, and he loved it.

During all of it, his obsession with your innocence only grew. He wanted to take it away. He wanted to taint you, to make you not so pure anymore. He didn’t understand the feeling, he never cared much for such stereotypical nonsense. But each time you looked at him with those curious, innocent eyes, it only made his patience strained.

The first breakthrough came during one of Sirius and James’s parties. The common room blared with music, and people laughed and danced. You were among them. Remus leaned against the wall next to the staircase to the boy's dorm, a cigarette between his lips as he watched you dance with Mary and Lily. Your smile was bright, your body moved to the rhythm almost perfectly. You wore a pretty little dress. But he couldn’t focus on any of that because that damn ring caught his attention.

It had become quite a distraction. He found himself staring at it far more than normal. During class and dinner, it consumed most of his thoughts. He needed to get it off your finger before it caused his grades to slip.

From across the room, your eyes suddenly found his. You gave him a questioning look; he only smirked back and released a cloud of smoke into the air. He watched you say something to the girls before you began to walk in his direction. Perfect.

“Why do you always stand on the sidelines?” You asked once you were close enough. “And if you’re going to stare at me all night you might as well just dance with me.”

He chuckled and took another drag from the cigarette. “I’m not the biggest fan of these parties and I definitely don’t dance.” He offered you the cigarette, and you shook your head and pointed to your ring. “Come on, that applies to cigs too?”

“And alcohol, pretty much whatever is considered sinful. Though, I have indulged in a drink or two. Mommy and Daddy don’t need to know about that,” you answered.

Merlin, he needed to do something with you. It was almost unbearable.

“You’re saying alcohol and cigs are sinful but intense snogging isn’t? Seems a bit hypocritical to me,” he eventually said.

You smiled and shrugged. “That’s muggle religion for you. It’s pretty much up to each person's interpretation and what they value. I value being sober more than refraining from a snog occasionally.”

“But a shag...”

“That’s universally seen as a big sin. Most of us would agree not to do it until marriage.”

He released another breath of smoke. “Most of you?”

“Well, not everyone agrees of course. Like I said, it’s technically up to everyone’s values. Murder is also considered a sin, you know. But even some people commit that,” you explained. He watched you blush. “I don’t think I should compare virginity to murder though.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a fair comparison,” he replied, his lips turned up into a smile.

You turned even more red. “Sorry. But you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Everything is optional is what you’re saying.” He let his eyes trail over your body, making sure you noticed. “So really, you could fuck someone before marriage.”

“I mean yeah, I could, but I don’t think I will,” you said. You began to fiddle with the ring again. “It’s sort of always been with me it would feel weird giving it to someone else.”

“Do you have to give it away for anything? Or just actual sex?” It was another question he’d been dying to know. He watched you think for a moment.

“I think just the full thing. I don’t know. I don’t even really know that much about it like I said when you first asked me. I mean, I know people use their hands and mouths but... sorry. I shouldn't be talking about such things.” You put your face in your hands, Remus couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry.”

He needed to do something. Now.

“Don’t be sorry love, it’s alright. You know you can trust me; I wouldn’t dare tell anyone about your sinful thoughts,” he spoke. He turned and dropped his cigarette into one of the many ashtrays in the common room. When he looked back at you, you were already looking at him. “But you know if you ever wanted to indulge in something like that, you can come to me.”

You were beyond flustered, and it showed. “Oh! That’s very um... generous of you, but I don’t think I’ll do any of that I mean... I don’t plan on it.”

He casually shrugged. “We all get a bit curious at some point in our lives.”

For a moment the two of you only stared at each other. He could tell exactly what you were thinking. You were curious. You wanted to try things. He observed you carefully. He could sense the conflict within you. Value versus desire. It was a tough battle, but you didn’t cave. At least, not yet.

“Perhaps, but I made a promise and I need to stick to it,” you said. You looked over your shoulder at your clearly intoxicated friends. “I should get back to Lily and Mary.”

“Right, it was nice talking,” he replied with a smile.

You nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

“Till then love.”

Even as you walked away and joined your friends once again, he could see the way his words affected you. You could deny the feelings all you wanted, but your body craved the unknown. It was only a matter of time till you caved, and Remus would wait.

He was never one to give up easily.

~~~

You came to him faster than he expected. He understood why though, you were on edge about all of it. In the few days it took for you to go to him, he noticed how different you acted. You were more tense, you fiddled with your ring far more than normal. He imagined the inner conflict you faced was stressful, but he was glad about the turnout of it.

After dinner, as he was walking to the library for a study group, you found him. He was a bit surprised at your approach, but nevertheless, he welcomed it with joy.

“Hey Remus, could I talk to you for a second?” You asked.

You were a bit behind him, but he stopped instantly and turned to face you.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

Your little bit of confidence quickly vanished. You avoided his gaze, focusing suddenly on your shoes. “Um, are you busy? It’s not really that important so if you have something else to do it can wait.”

He fought the urge to smirk. “I was just going to Lily’s little study group, but it can wait. Is something wrong?”

You shook your head and looked up at him, those big innocent eyes staring into his. “No uh... nothing's wrong. It’s just about... well... you know.”

“About what?”

“You know...”

“I don’t think I do love, you’re gonna have to use your words and tell me.”

He felt bad for teasing you, but it was too fun not to. The way your cute little eyes looked around the hallway to make sure no one else was around, the way you fidgeted, it was far too entertaining to stop. A moment passed before you finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.

“It’s about what we talked about at the party last weekend.”

“Oh?” He questioned. “What about it?”

He watched as you slid the ring up and down your finger. “You said um if I ever wanted to you know, indulge, that I could come to you.”

“Yes, I did say that.”

“So... um yeah,” you said. You looked almost uncomfortable. He knew he needed to be nicer.

“Are you asking if that offer is still there?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! I mean, um, is it?”

He glanced around to make sure nobody else was around before stepping closer to you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your mouth parted ever so slightly. He touched his fingers to your chin, lifting your head gently.

“How about you come find out?”

You didn’t fight it. He was glad.

Not too long after that, Remus found himself in a position he’d desperately wanted for almost a month. You were laid out on his bed, open like a flower, and he was on top of you. Your robe, shirt, and tie were thrown to the floor. He kissed you hard, the reward of your gasps kept him going. He let one of his hands travel up your soft thigh, you were so warm, so inviting. It took all his self-control to keep him from moving too fast.

Before it began, you told him you had only ever snogged. That meant no boy had ever touched you. Not with a hand, not with his tongue, nothing. No one had ever even felt up your breasts. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t pleased with the information. He wanted you to be his, he wanted to be as many of your firsts as he could be.

“Can I touch you?” He eventually whispered on your skin; his lips were by your ear.

“Yes, please,” you replied, your breath ragged.

He continued to press soft kisses to your neck as his hand moved between your thighs. You were wet, very wet. He could feel it through your panties. It made him even harder than he already was. He slid his hand under your panties and began to rub soft circles on your clit, you gasped and lifted your hips in response.

You were perfect.

With every flick of his fingers, you let out little whimpers and moans, and one of your hands gripped his shoulder hard. He caught a few glances of your face between kisses. Your cheeks were red, your eyes squeezed shut. You were beyond beautiful.

After a few minutes, he moved his fingers down to your entrance. He made sure to collect your wetness and ask if it was alright before he began to slowly push one of his fingers inside you.

“Remus,” you mumbled as he started thrusting his finger in and out of you at a slow pace. “Fuck.”

“Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?” He asked.

You lightly shook your head. “It feels so good, do not stop.”

“Do you want another one?”

“Yes.”

He complied instantly and added a second finger. You responded just the way he wanted. In only a few more minutes he was fucking you with his fingers, touching that spot inside that made your thighs clench around him. He kissed you hard, he loved how you struggled to kiss him back. When he also began to press his thumb to your clit, you became a mess.

“Fuck Rem, I-” You paused, your nails dug into his shoulder.

“You’re close.” It was a statement; he could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. He knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“I am,” you practically whimpered.

“Let go, love, it’s alright.”

Only seconds later you did. You came hard. Your back arched off the mattress, your mouth hung open wide, and your thighs tightened around his hips. Remus had never felt anything as good as the feeling of your walls pulsating around his fingers as you came undone beneath him. He made sure to keep going till you were fully done. At that point, he pulled his hand out of your panties and up to his lips. He knew you were going to taste good.

You sat up, breathless. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I just- you just- we just... I’m going to hell.”

“Relax, it’ll be fine. People do this all the time and nothing bad happens, I promise it’s just a normal thing,” he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, he thought you looked so beautiful. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I��m not worried about being judged or anything, I’m worried because I don’t feel guilty. I should feel guilty for it but I just... don’t. In fact, I think I...” You looked down at your hand, specifically the ring. “I think I want more.”

Remus couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. “More?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s only right that I return the favor.” He watched your eyes move to his pants; your cheeks turned red. “You’ll have to show me how though.”

“Alright, only if, you’re sure. Don’t feel like you have to because I did something for you,” he replied though he really did want you to touch him. But he could wait if he had to.

“I want to.”

He didn’t question you further. Instead, he guided you through the process of getting him off with your hand. You were a fast learner, though the act itself wasn’t that hard to get the hang of. He found it funny the way you gasped at the size of him. Merlin, you were so innocent. Either way, you made him feel extraordinary. Your hand was much softer than his, and warmer too. You touched him gently, almost teasingly. But that changed fast.

“Can I try something else?” You asked, your hand stopped.

He almost groaned from the lack of motion. “What?”

“Um, can I try using my um...” You pointed to your lips.

“Your mouth?”

“Yeah.”

How could he ever refuse?

It was sloppy, it was rushed, but it was everything he could’ve wanted. As he laid back on the pillows, one of his hands moved through your soft hair. He didn’t dare push you. No. He only stroked your hair gently and whispered praises. He knew you liked it from the way you hummed on his cock each time he told you how good you were doing or how good you made him feel. And when you looked up at him with those eyes, those damn innocent eyes, he could barely contain himself.

He was shocked you even did it to begin with, but he was even more shocked when you let him finish in your mouth. You had him halfway down your throat when he came, and you didn’t pull away for a second. You swallowed it all. Somehow, he became even more attracted to you than he had been before.

“Was it good?” You questioned after you pulled back. You were kneeling beside his legs, a nervous expression on your face.

He smiled. “You were amazing. Are you sure you haven’t done that before?”

“Never even saw one in real life before this,” you replied with a laugh.

“That’s hard to believe,” he said. He sat up and pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “Do you want to try one more thing?”

“Depends on what thing.”

“I’ll do what you just did to me but on you,” he answered, loving the way your eyes widened at his words. Despite everything that happened already, you were still so innocent. He adored it.

“Oh yeah okay,” you spoke after a moment.

He kissed you again. “Lay down.”

You did as he said and soon it began.

He started by kissing your lips while his hands pulled your skirt and panties off, leaving you only in a bra. Once those were off, he kissed down your neck, and your chest, only pausing for a second to unclip your bra and take one of your nipples in his mouth. You moaned, he stayed there for a few extra seconds. He then moved his mouth further down your body, relishing the sounds you made each time his lips made contact with your skin.

When he started to kiss up one of your thighs, you twitched. You were so sensitive, so untouched. He was obsessed with it. Every few kisses he sucked your skin to leave dark purple hickeys. He had made sure not to leave any on your skin that would be visible to the world so that no one would see the evidence of your sinful acts. But the skin that would be covered by clothing, that was his to mark.

A few minutes of this went by, and it was all on purpose. Remus could tell how eager you were for him to get on with it, but you were far too shy to tell him to do so. So, he didn’t dare touch you where you so desperately wanted him to. He wanted to hear you ask. But you said nothing, so he decided you needed a little push. He gave you one single lick then returned to your black and blue thighs.

“Remus,” you whispered. “Please.”

He looked up at you and almost felt bad. Your desperate eyes were already looking at him, he could tell how much you needed it. He didn’t wait any longer and gave you what you needed; you certainly earned it.

In all his experience with sex and everything surrounding it, Remus enjoyed pleasing his partner as anyone did. He didn’t mind going down on women, in fact, he sort of enjoyed it. At least until you. With you, he quickly realized having his head between your thighs and his tongue on your clit was not just alright, it was heavenly. He never enjoyed the taste of a girl like he enjoyed yours. You were sweet and the sounds you made as he played with you were their own type of reward.

So, it was no surprise how quickly you came undone on his tongue. He devoured you like he had been starving his whole life. Truthfully, he felt as if he had. You were spectacular. You were perfection. You were his. He was crazy about you.

After you finished, he wiped his mouth on one of your thighs before moving to lie on the bed next to you. He laid on his side facing you, his eyes examining your face. Your eyes were closed, and your cheeks were pink. Your hair was messy, and your lips were ever so slightly lifted into a smile. He swore he never saw anyone as beautiful in his life.

“I feel stupid,” you mumbled.

“Why?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your smile then undeniable. “I should’ve taken you up on your offer sooner. Now I understand why everyone’s so mad about this stuff, it’s unbelievable.”

“You don’t regret it then?” He asked.

“How could I? You’re just... Remus I...” You turned to your side to face him fully, one of your hands pressed against his chest. “I think we should do this again if you’d want to of course.”

He grinned and let a hand fall to your waist, he pulled you closer, so your bodies touched. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and you buried your face in his neck. For a moment he felt almost victorious, he had gotten you right where he wanted you to be. It would only be a matter of time before you let him take you fully. But then he realized, it wasn’t about taking your virginity so much anymore. He just wanted you.

“I wouldn’t want anything more,” he eventually said, then he pressed a kiss to your forehead, while the cold feeling of your ring on his chest lingered in the back of his mind.

Soon, it would be his. And so would you.

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xhopelesslyromanticx · 10 months

Text

Delusional - Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

Masterlist

summary: In which the internet once again is fooled by your slightly overdramatic side. Rumors about Lando dumping you circulate but luckily the Mclaren driver is just as delusional as you are. Social Media Au

y/nfewtrell

Home

liked by kellypiquet and 60‘797 others

y/nfewtrell in my feelings bruh

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maxfewtrell did you take my hoodie?

y/nstans what why????

user567 sense a breakupppp

f1islife stunning

arthur_leclerc *plays taylor swift

user345 arthur what do you know

y/nandlan Lando didn’t like?!

user567 see his post? he seems completely unbothered

user898 Landos too good for her anyw

f1gossip you sound bitter

user787 i just always had weird vibes from her

f1gossip we‘ve met y/n and she‘s literally an angel

y/nfewtrell thanks means a lot

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell and 567‘897 others

landonorris how I try to entertain

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user687 such a hottie

f1fans someone say unbothered cough

georgerussell63 I thought you were on a diet?

alex_albon he‘s abt 4ft tall he doesn’t need a diet

mclaren next week we back to veggies

f1lover wheres the missus

user789 y/n doesn’t attend most gps she goes to university

f1fans yeah but so do Alex and Kika yet they seem to be way more supportive

user789 I‘m sure shes supportive just maybe also focused on her on career?

y/nstans y/n not liking landos post has me scaredddd

maxfewtrell looking smug

landonorris thanks bestieeee

maxfewtrell

Paris

liked by landonorris and 123‘890 others

maxfewtrell took the little nugget to paris @y/nfewtrell

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user578 she‘s so cute

f1lover peeping the papaya phone case

norrisandme yes also Lando liked! they goood

y/nfrance we met her yesterday and she seemed fine

arthur_leclerc the nugget in the big city

y/nfewtrell miss you archer

f1gossip my fave friendship

user787 why is she already flirting with guys when the rumors aren’t comfirmed

maxfewtrell oh god if you think y/n can flirt you‘re in for suprises

y/nfewtrell thanks maxie :) loved the trip

team_quadrant let’s go to Brazil!!!!

f1gossip

liked by user676 and 12‘899 others

f1gossip You guys know we normally don’t cover anything realitionship releated but it looks like Lando and Y/n are going through some crisis. She appeared on a tiktok crying after a series of mysterious tweets and instagram posts. Neither her or Lando have yet confirmed the rumors. But she has been absent from his likes and vice versa.

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user676 she’s making it obvious

f1fans cloutchaser?

y/nstans shut up

landonorris @y/nfewtrell care to explain missy

y/nfewtrell no i dont care to, peace out

user676 omg they commented

norrislove they clearly are clowing y‘all

maxfewtrell the woman cries like twelfe times a day and people still wonder?

landonorris twelfe is a little much, ten maybe eleven

y/nfewtrell I have my reasons this time!

y/nfewtrell

Austin Texas

liked by charlottesine and 234‘890 others

y/nfewtrell my lanlan. I formally apologize for being a lot to handle sometimes. I do love you more than words could even get close to explain. Thanks for being the best boyfriend and bestfriend. Thanks for pretending I‘m 21 forever.

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landonorris my world, anything for you 🧡

y/nfewtrell love youuu

maxfewtrell disgusting

maxfewtrell we all know she aint 21, plus he’s MY bestfriend

f1gossip we stan an overdramatic queen

charlottesine power couple

y/nfewtrell thanks chacha

user787 how annoying all that for such a petty reason

f1fans right i was relieved he had dumped her ass

y/nstans sad people you are, she clearly makes him happy

arthur_leclerc happy 21st I guess ;)

landonorris whats with the wink you twat

f1user y/n control your mans

landonorris

liked by f1 and 1‘124‘799 others

landonorris happy 21st birthday to the most beautiful 21 one year old I know. I love you so much eventhough your overdramatic soul makes people assume we broke up every couple of months. I love you my angel.

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user676 21!?!?

f1gossip look at y/ns post

f1lover they have me dead

charles_leclerc isn’t she-

arthur_leclerc shut up charlie

maxfewtrell tell them!

y/nfewtrell thanks bean. I love you more.

maxfewtrell bean? cringe

kellypiquet such a beautiful girl

f1gossip so the whole drama reallly was bc she doesn’t wanna turn 22 hahaha

user67 she‘s truly overdramatic

f1 we love a supportive and delusional king

mclaren like a true gentleman Mr.Norris

maxfewtrell

Sao Paulo

liked by oscarpiastri and 123‘788 others

maxfewtrell happy 22nd second you LIAR, never thought Lando would go as delulu as you. Love you nugget.

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estrellami-1 · 9 months

Text

Ten Minutes

Didn’t love this when I first wrote it. Left it in my drafts for a LONG freakin’ time. Found it again and no longer care, so here yall go; have fun! Probably not a part 2 to this one.

Steve takes a breath, then another, as he waits for the line to connect. He grits his teeth, feeling eyes on him. He does his best to ignore them.

“Munson residence, if you’re calling about the murders I’ve been absolved of, try going to hell instead.”

“I need you to pick me up.”

A pause. “Stevie?”

Steve takes another breath. Tries to unclench his jaw. “Please.”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right there- what-”

“My parents are in town.”

Another pause. “I’ll be there in ten. Try not to kill them.”

Steve laughs humorlessly. “Just hurry.”

“Ten minutes,” Eddie says, and hangs up.

Steve sighs, places the phone in its socket, and turns back to face his parents.

His mother is narrowing her eyes at him. “Who was that?”

“A friend,” he says lightly.

“Who, that Hagan boy?” His father scoffs.

“No. Not Tommy. I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Oh, Steve,” his mother tuts. “Always so dramatic. We’ve not even been gone a year-”

Steve laughs. It sounds hollow. “Try four years,” he informs her. “And three concussions. Did you hear about the mall two years ago? Or the boy who went missing four years ago?” He shakes his head when his mother looks at him blankly. “That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his father snaps. “And don’t you dare speak to your mother in that tone again, Steven. You’re still a child and I won’t hesitate to reprimand you as such.”

“I’m twenty,” Steve says evenly. “I’ll be twenty-one in five months.” He crosses his arms. “The last time you saw me, I was a freshman in high school. I’ve graduated. I found jobs. Lost some friends and made some better ones.”

“And what of that girl you were dancing around?” His mother asks. “Karen’s daughter?”

“We’re friends,” he says shortly, then moves through the kitchen, to the stairs. “Excuse me.”

“No,” his father says. “You’re not excused. Where do you think you’re going?”

Steve turns, one hand on the bannister, to look at the man who had terrified him the last time he’d seen him. It’s funny what interdimensional threats will do. “To pack a bag. I’m not going to stay here while you are.”

“And if I were to say we’re staying for good?”

Steve laughs. “Dad, you’ve said that before. Multiple times, actually. Those words mean nothing to me anymore.”

“And where are you planning on staying?” His mother asks. “Honestly, Steven, I thought we raised you to make better decisions than this.”

“Oh, I see. So it was raising me when I woke up at nine years old to discover you’d left and I’d have to find my own way to school. Then a week later when I had to ride my bike to the store to buy groceries. At eleven, when I looked the school counselor in the eye and said you’d be back soon. I had to go to my own parent-teacher conferences. At fifteen, trying to figure out high school classes. At seventeen when I got my first concussion. At eighteen when I signed my first legally-binding NDA. You hadn’t abandoned me. You were raising me.” He sighs, shakes his head. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

He makes his way up to his room and packs as much as he can. Clothes. Vinyls. The box of cash under the loose floorboard. Then into the bathroom. Toothbrush, deodorant, even his shampoo. Doubles back into his room to grab a bracelet off his nightstand; one El made him.

He looks around, grabs the nail bat, and makes his way downstairs. His mother gasps when she sees him. “What on earth is that?”

He looks at the bat. Adjusts his grip, twirls it around. “An NDA.”

The doorbell rings. Steve grabs his bags and moves towards it. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never walk back in.”

“Fine by me,” Steve says. He grabs his keys, tosses the house key at his father, and pockets the rest.

He opens the door and grins at Eddie, who’s looking at him worriedly. “Hey, Eds. Ready to go?”

Eddie blinks. “Um. Sure? Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugs. “I’m getting kicked out. If you don’t want to take me I’ll just go bug Robin. It’ll only be for a little while, though, just until I find a better job and an apartment or something.”

“Like hell Wayne’s gonna miss this chance,” Eddie grins. “You know you’re his favorite.”

Steve smiles back, tosses his things into the back of Eddie’s van. “I hoped you were gonna say that.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #idk if it’s clear or not but Steve and Eddie ARE dating in this one!!#getting kicked out #Steve Harrington has shit parents #hopefully this isn’t terrible ig #starambles

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axelsagewrites · 2 months

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could you make a robb stark x baratheon reader where they grow up together as friends and were promised to each other, at the beginning reader thinks robb doesn't wanna marry her but then he tells her he loves her

if you could please add smut at the end (afab reader btw)

Robb Stark*Arranged

Pairing: arranged marriage!robb stark x princess!reader

Word count: 2272

Warnings: arranged marriage, anxiety, talks of running away, making out, (smut in part two but this is mostly wholesome), fluff

Masterlist here

A/N: sorry this (and everything else lol) has taken so long but part two with the smut will be up in the next couple of days :)

despite being a Baratheon by blood, by title, and by name most days you felt more like a Stark than anything else. Your father had sent you up to the North on your eleventh name day to become a ward of Ned Stark as part of an alliance of sort. Marrying his eldest daughter to a well-respected and established house only strengthened your fathers claim.

It had benefits for you, well at least he told you all his reasons in the letters. You’d be safe under lord starks protection, able to grow up alongside Sansa Stark who was only a year younger than you, become the future lady of Winterfell, and most importantly, to you at least, marry your childhood crush.

Yes, that’s right from the time you met him at four, him being five, you were smittened. Your father had travelled north on business but also happened to attend the wedding of one of the northern lords. He and ned laughed loudly, clinking their glasses together, as they watched you force Robb to walk down a pretend aisle with you that Jon helped you set up with chairs.

Of course, it was just a silly crush. It’s not like four-year-olds understand what a wedding is. By the time you moved to the north at eleven it was just a fond memory of your fathers he would tell at dinner parties.

In the nicest way possible when you first arrived Robb didn’t even care you were there. He was twelve and running about with wooden swords to practise with Jon and Theon while you and Sansa would practise hairstyles in each other’s hair.

However, by fifteen something dreadful happened. You fancied him.

Sure, in theory it sounded great but there were so many awkward moments. After all you were only fifteen. You couldn’t help that your face went beat red when he gave you a necklace for your birthday and when he told you that you looked ‘pretty’ one day you could barely muster out a thank you, you were so shocked.

You did your best to shove it down and pretend everything was normal over the years, but the crush never went away. You got better at hiding it. you had to as you’d grown closer over the years. Since Sansa had no interest in horse riding you were left to go with the trio, as you called them, instead. It soon became one of your favourite past times and you quickly grew close with the three boys. Especially Robb.

You figured it was a good idea especially as the talks of your marriage began cropping up more frequently. Your parents started pushing you to go on chaperoned excursions to markets and walks through the gods’ woods. They had no clue, or at least pretended, about the unchaperoned ones. Often you disappeared into the gods wood for some peace or the fields behind Winterfell to race. Robb began to bring food in his satchel so your excursions could turn into late lunches in the few sunny days of Winterfell.

“I definitely won,” he grinned as he dismounted his horse.

“Yeah right,” you scoffed as you jumped down, “you cheated,”

“How?”

“You went before I said go!”

“It’s three, two, one, go on one,”

“No, it’s not. Its three, two, one, go,”

“As in go already I said one,”

“As in you’re a cheat,” you huffed as you sat down against a thick oak tree.

Robb laughed at your antics as he sat down beside you, pulling his satchel out, “Truce?” he offered as he pulled out a parcel of sandwiches.

You pretended to think it over before nodding, “Truce,” For a few moments you sat in silence eating the sandwiches before you finally decided to tell him the news that had been weighing over you for the past week. “My mother sent me a raven,”

“Oh?” Robb paused, mid bite with concern written on his face. Your father sent you letters on a weekly basis but so far, your mother had only sent three since you left. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, well, I think so. I’m not sure,” you paused for a moment before just blurting it out, “She’s coming next week. With a seamstress,” Robb stared at you confused, “For the wedding,”

“Oh,” the word shattered your heart. While you had become friends over the year neither one of you ever spoke about the impending nuptials. Sure, you wanted to marry him, but you were terrified. Not of marriage. He was a good man. He would treat you right whether he wanted this marriage or not. But that’s when the fear came in. what if Robb could never love you? “Aren’t most girls excited about fancy dresses?” he tried to joke, lighten the mood like he always did. Its what he always did whenever the wedding was brought up. Play it off, make a joke, laugh. It was all an awkward joke to him.

“I suppose, Sansa will be,” you laughed. She really had become like a sister to you over the years, “I suppose though this means it will be arranged soon,” you tried to look at him, but Robb just stared down at his food. “Unless we escape somehow,” you joked, copying his defence mechanism.

He looked up a smiled a little, “Quick you grab the horses, I’ll pack the bag. We’ll ride at dawn,” he joked.

“Imagine. Take all the back roads till we get to Riverrun,”

“Bribe the Frays into letting us cross,”

“Then straight down to Dorne,”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled, knocking his knee against yours. “Jon would never forgive me if I left him behind,”

“Him and Arya can come with. We’ll become sellswords,”

“Sounds like we’ve got it all planned out,”

When you returned to Winterfell Catelyn ran up to you both in a tizzy, “Where have you both been?” she whispers shouted, smiling at a passing lord before scouring, “A messenger from the king has arrived,”

You knew she meant well but your stomach dropped. you both followed her to the hall but soon the sorrowful look on your face was replaced by a grin, “Uncle Tyrion,” you rushed up to him immediately.

“Ah my favourite niece. Finally returned from some dingy pub I assume,” he joked though Cat couldn’t help but frown a little. They were both protective just in their own ways. “Don’t worry I’m not here to stay long. Just come down on your father’s behalf to organise the wedding. Speaking of, Lord Stark I do believe this is the first time we’ve met,” he extended a courteous nod to a very nervous looking Robb.

“Lord Tyrion,” he bowed.

“It goes without saying if you hurt my niece, I will have to have my men kill you,” he said, head tilting to the side making Robb gulp, “But other than that it’s lovely to meet you,” he grinned widely like a jester.

“Don’t tease him uncle,” you shook your head, but Tyrion just laughed, “I’d say you’ll get used to him, but no one has so far,”

“You’re so kind niece, truly,” he laughed, “Now onto business The king has organised his travels and shall be in Winterfell by the first of next month so we shall have to act swiftly,”

Panic set on all three of your faces. Though Robb and yours was far different than Catelyn’s. “My lord that’s awfully soon. We may not have the provisions to afford so many guests so soon- “

“No fear my lady. I was also sent with my father’s gold. No Lannister shall have anything less than a golden affair,” you could see the relief melt from Catelyn but yours was just setting in.

For the next three weeks every discussion you had was about the wedding. cakes, flowers, food, music, dresses, veils, and most daunting of all; organising the preparation for Robb’s and yours new chamber. Tyrion even sent a seamstress to your room to organise an outfit for your wedding night. It was all quickly becoming too much.

You’d barely even seen Robb since the planning began. There was no time to calm down and no one to remind you to breathe. That was his job. Whenever you got nervous, he would gently grab your wrist under the table, running his thumb over the back of your hand. But he was nowhere to be found.

You eventually managed to find Jon who told you Robb was under the same stresses. His mother had him arranging with traders and mingling with the growing number of lords appearing at Winterfell’s gates. “Suppose this is the stresses of being a lady,” Jon joked.

It was only then it hit you. Soon this whole castle would be yours to run. How would you ever have time to breathe let alone enjoy your husband’s company if he would even have you.

Despite missing your family, the night before their arrivals, you cried quietly in your chamber. Their arrival tomorrow only marked the three remaining days you had left as a maid. Perched on an open windows ledge, the cold air stung your cheek but at least as you watched the birds fly you could feel a little of their freedom.

Then there was a quiet but rapid knocking. The faint sound brought your attention to the door which was shut less than a second after it was opened. “Hey sorry I’ve not come sooner- “Robb’s voice entered the room, for some reason making your tears sting more. Robb shivered from the cold, “Why’s the window open? You’ll freeze princess,”

Robb rushed to your side, leaning past you to shut the glass to preserve what little heat he could. His confusion fell from his face when he saw your tears, “What’s the matter?” his voice was soft and tender as he sat across from you to hold your hands, his thumbs stroking over the back on them.

“I don’t know,” you lied in a whisper.

Robb knew. He always knew when you lied. He just nodded gently though. “I’ll start a fire,” he was on his feet again.

“I can fetch someone if you wish- “

“But I’m already here,” he teased as he knelt by the fireplace.

As he got to work in silence you padded across the floor. The stone floor felt like ice against your bare feet making you quicken your pace till you could sit on the small sofa in front of the fire Robb had started. “Easy, see,” he said, joining you on the couch, “We’ll get a heat in you,”

“Thanks,” you sniffled.

You sat in an easy silence though when you left out another sigh Robb was compelled to place an arm around your shoulder. You leant into his touch, your head rested on his shoulder and his on yours. A few moments passed before he spoke, “Jon said you were asking for me,”

You weren’t sure why you tensed, “I just worry sometimes,”

“I know,”

You couldn’t stand the next silence that followed so made a joke, “Thought you’d ran away,”

“Without you?” he said, pulling back to grin back at you, “Nah we have a deal princess. Say the word and I’ll get the horses,”

His smile made your stomach drop. It all felt like one big tease, “I thought,” you began to stutter, “You may have been running from me,”

Robb’s face fell, “Why would I do that?”

You sighed, turning to face the flames again as the tears threatened to spill, “It’s not like you chose this marriage. You weren’t exactly ever given the option. I wouldn’t blame you if you objected to it,” you muttered.

When he pulled away you could’ve sobbed but it was quickly replaced by confusion when he knelt in front of you, “Why would I object? all I desire is to be a good and faithful husband to you and may gods help me I will be. I wouldn’t desire another option if I was given a thousand,”

“Why?” you could feel venom briming in your voice, “Because my dowery? Because the king commanded it?”

The hurt on his face felt like a stab to the gut but his words only twisted the knife, “Because I love you,” he took your hands in his, “and I understand that you don’t feel that way for me and may never, but nothing will stop the way I- “

You didn’t even realise you’d moved till you pulled back from the kiss. Without thinking your lips had found his and now you stared into his eyes. It only lasted a second before Robb lusted forward, reconnecting the kiss into a messy, desperate thing.

As you felt him raise, you followed, standing to kiss him as his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands rested on his shoulders, now fully able to appreciate his strength.

You wanted more but he pulled away, your lips chased his making Robb breathe out a laugh. “You’re something else,” he muttered, a grin on his face, “I can’t imagine not wanting to be with you,”

This time your arms tightened, burying your head into his neck as you hugged him close. Robb followed suit, his muscular arms keeping your warmer than the fire, “I feel the same way,” you eventually managed to stutter out, “But I- “

“You don’t have to say it,” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head, “I understand,”

“How did I get so lucky?” you pulled back to smile up at him.

He just smiled back, “I ask myself that each night,”

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#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark fic #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fic #asoiaf x reader #robb stark fluff

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inklessletter · 1 year

Text

Since I can't draw tonight, here's a steddie prompt for you:

Steve runs away from home once he becomes eighteen because his home environment is absolutely toxic. It's all yelling, and spitting insults, and constantly hearing that he is such a disappointment, so he decides to hit the road and go some city away from everyone he knows and just start over. His trauma response to loud, aggressive spaces leads him to accept a job managing a school library.

And he finds out it is his dream job.

He sees all these teens studying, sharing glances, romances beginning, stress increasing as midterms come closer, annoyed faces, giggling girls gossiping, kids vandalizing his tables... And he feels an observant. A watcher.

And he imagines. He imagines their lives, the tall jock with the widest smile going soft for the sarcastic redhead. The quiet thing blossoming between tose two boys who give longing glances when the other is not looking. The oddest friendship between the meanest eleven year old he's ever met and the most cynical kid to ever set foot in that school. He sees and he imagines, but he's silent.

Because silence is a precious shield that protects his imagination. Silence will never hurt him.

His first real friendship begins in silence. This girl, Robin, passes him a note with a poor drawing of him falling asleep on his desk. It made him laugh. She laughed too. That was enough.

They play this game together in which they both exchanged the craziest theories they could think of about other people's lives.

That one is a Russian spy.

That one runs a secret lab.

That one has mind powers (okay, that was maybe too crazy).

That one is an former cop.

"That one is a rockstar," Robin said pointing an absurdly good looking guy that was checking out a couple of books.

"He does looks like one, though..."

Robin was going to reply when she noticed Steve's rosy cheeks. She just smiled. She noticed the guy looking briefly at them, and then he grinned.

"Metal is more my scene, but close enough," he said.

Shit.

The guy approached them and Robin, the traitor, bolted away. The guy, all dimples and soft hair lent Steve two books and his library card (Munson, Eddie), that he registered and gave back to him.

Steve tried hard not to be an awkward mess, he barely managed to.

"I do actually play in a band, uh, on Tuesdays," Eddie said. Steve looked at him with a twist in his stomach. "And today is Tuesday. So if you want to come, I would gladly buy you a drink."

Steve felt a lump in his throat, and looked down.

"Uh, I—I don't—"

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"I don't do well with loud noises," Steve said quickly. "I'm sorry."

Eddie nodded.

"Good luck tonight," Steve said, not wanting to leave the conversation in a rejection. He pointed the book. "This one is really good."

"Have you read The Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled. "I've got time and silence here."

Eddie looked at him with something hidden in his pupils meant to be discovered by Steve.

Eddie left the library.

There were a few days and a lot of conversations with Robin about that Eddie guy. Steve let himself imagine again, about him. About Eddie. He fantasized a lot, ignoring deliberately the sting in his guts knowing that he blew up his chance.

Two weeks passed and Eddie was there to return the books again, with a small guitar case hanging in his back, and Steve tried his best not to look like a kicked puppy.

"I can do soft noises," Eddie said, out of the blue. It earned him a look from both Robin and Steve. "When do you, uh, have a break?"

"Right now," Robin chimed in, quickly. "He's having a break right now."

A few minutes later they were in the rooftop. They found a comfortable spot with the best views and Eddie took out an old and battered ukulele. Then he looked at Steve.

"I am not a silent person. I exist in noise, and busy environments, and awful high pitched laughs," he said with a smile. "I can't change that, but I can change the noise."

Eddie caressed the tiny guitar strings, and the sound sent goosebumps through all Steve's skin.

"I can change the noise for you," Eddie said, low and soft, and he started playing a song. "If you let me."

His first real love began with music.

#steddie #fic #steddie fic #ficlet #prompt #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #fluff

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highhhfiveee · 9 months

Note

can I request mike, reader, and Abby going to the beach :p!?

[i'm combining this with another ask! they requested the same setting, but with a scenario!]

wc: 3k tags: sweetgf!reader + dickheadbf!mike, light smut (oral [deepthroating and come swallowing], m!receiving), mostly fluff and being grateful for life and the people who you live it with [: proofread but maybe there are still errors! kill me, i'm human! a/n: i wish i could go to the beach so bad!! i fucking love the summer and it's damn near the dead of winter where i live ],: i also get cold so easily and i can't take freezing every morning lmao

i am imagining:

you and mike are sitting on the couch on a late friday morning, hypnotized by daytime television after a big, indulgent breakfast and chats about mike's shift. abby had retreated to the adjacent loveseat, fast asleep with a stomach full of pancakes and eggs.

"it's so hotttt," mike grumbles, stretching his sweaty body out like a starfish. the limbs on his right side invade your space, leaving you to shrink into the couch with a groan.

"yeah, mike, too hot for you to be doing that. stoppp," you return his irritated tone, bringing your hands up to push into him. it was the hottest day of the summer so far, and it wasn't like you weren't also feeling the elements. not even the AC unit turned to full blast could cool the living room, and it made every breath feel thick and labored.

mike stands from his spot on the couch, dramatically dragging his body over to the kitchen. you watch as he yanks the freezer door open with impatience, craning his head into the crystalized cool and saying, "it's too hot to be living."

you turn your body to extend across the whole sofa, thankful that your hair is up and out of your face so you're able to feel the tickle of a breeze on the nape of your neck. you bite at your bottom lip as the gears of your brain churn through a heat-induced fog, thinking of how to keep cool at a time like this.

abby stirs then, stretching and yawning and squealing, "it was hot in my dream too." you turn your head to her, pursing your lips to the side in disappointment.

"aw, abs, i'm sorry. that sucks."

"i was at the beach though, which i think makes up for it---"

"omg, the beach! we should go!" you cheer, but mike shuts you down once he hears abby wholeheartedly agree.

"uh, the closest beach is six hours away."

"well, maybe we can make a weekend out of it," you suggest, motioning for abby to come sit with you. she delicately settles on your thighs, relaxing into the couch and swinging her legs over the edge.

"yeah, with what money?"

"i can dip into my savings a little bit, at least for the hotel and gas," you offer, and mike is shutting you down again, shaking his head as he cranes it towards you and humming "nuh uh"s.

"c'mon mike, i don't mind! listen, i want to do this for us," you're hugging abby into you, pressing your cheeks together and telepathically communicating for her to help you convince mike with her own set of puppy dog eyes. "we'll leave in the evening so you can get some rest, and we can split the drive."

"abby doesn't have a license."

your face scrunches as you confusedly mutter, "why would you include your eleven year old sister in a 'we' of that context?" as abby states, "you're weird, mike." in the same tone.

"i know, my joke didn't land, i guess," mike sighs, letting his head drop between his shoulders as he closes the freezer door. the sound of suction punctuates his action, and he turns to you and abby with a grimace before saying, "three hours behind a steering wheel just doesn't seem appealing. two would be a hell of a lot more digestible."

"oh my god, mike, you're so pitiful," you playfully chide, crossing your arms over your chest. "i promise that you'll survive, grumpy. tell you what, i'll drive four hours so you'll only have to drive two."

the sweet drawl of your voice and trivial suggestion to take on more work is all it takes for mike to fold and drive all six hours.

he doesn't do it with a smile, but you're still grateful for his sacrifice, cupping his face and kissing his cheek as he drives into the sizzling orange pulse of the sunset. "i love youuuu," you sing, and he grumbles for like the millionth time that day as you ignore him and muse, "and abby loves you, and we're gonna have so much fun on our beach weekend!!"

you and abby begin to whoop and cheer and dance in your seats, chanting, "beachbeachbeach!", and you pretend not to notice the slight smirk that cracks the perpetual stiffness of mike's mouth.

you spend the first half of the trip singing along to an old CD abby had burned sometime ago--"you always have to keep a road trip mix on hand"--, playing various word association games, and sucking fluorescent orange dust from your fingers after you chuck a cheeto into mike's mouth and pass the bag back to abby.

the second half is stiller; abby has fallen asleep again, soothed by the motions of the car, and you're staring at mike's side profile as he drives. he's so tired; it's painted in his eyes and over his body, with the way he slumps into the driver's seat and focuses on the road like nothing else is around him.

he catches your gaze after a bit, breaking himself away from his trance. he switches hands on the wheel so he's able to clutch your thigh, gently kneading at your skin, and with a small grin, asks, "got a nice view?"

"yeah, but it seems the view isn't feeling so nice," you raise your hand to his shoulder, your turn to massage into him. he's so tense under your touch, and you watch his eyes flicker with your words, training back on the four lane highway ahead. "i think this will be nice for us. we all deserve a nice vacation; especially you, mikey. you've been working hard, and i know you're tired."

"yeah," mike breathes softly, the gentlest you think he's been all day. "i'm sorry about the way i was acting about the drive. i just couldn't think straight after my shift, your delicious breakfast, and sitting in the heat."

"i understand. three hours of driving isn't fun, but that's why i offered to take more of the load after you made that...bad joke."

"so now it's just categorically bad?" mike pouts with comical sorrow, and you giggle at him, nudging at his shoulder with soft pressure.

"yes, because why was she included in we? obviously abby can't drive."

"it was supposed to be one of my sillies,"

"you're just usually better at them," you argue, and it sends the both of you into a laughing fit that gives you a stomach cramp, mike affirming, "yeah, yeah, you're right, you're right. shit, are you okay?" as you try to calm down.

after relaxing back into a comfortable silence, you're bringing mike's hand to your lips, kissing at his knuckles when he blurts, "thank you for putting up with me, and for paying for stuff so short notice."

"oh hush. i love you, mike. truly. we take care of each other, don't we?" you squeeze his hand as you continue, placing it over your heart. "there hasn't been a second i've been with you where i haven't felt supported, and now it's my turn to support you. plus, this is like abby's first real vacation. i want her to have the best time too. we don't have any money when we're dead, so we might as well say we had experiences, yeah?"

"i love you. you're an angel on earth," mike hums lovingly as he pulls off of an exit, able to relax his head against the headrest and leer at you once he brakes at a red light. "our angel on earth." you writhe under his enamored stare, blushing and gnawing on your bottom lip with an airy giggle, and later, after you've gotten to your hotel and tucked abby into bed, you're back in the car doing that same giggle with his dick lodged in your throat.

"my angel on earth," he repeats as he folds his fingers into your hair so he can pull on it, maintaining eye contact while you sloppily guide yourself on him. his toes curl and his thigh muscles spasm, and he's panting down on your face as his other hand grabs his steering wheel in a white hot grip. "fuck, baby."

you're grateful that you were able to book a room facing outwards on the first floor of the hotel; you could be disgusting with mike in the car while ensuring abby's safety through the front windshield.

it helped solidify that there were no worries in your orbit; everything here was perfect, and you feed that passion into taking mike deeper, holding his gaze even as a tear runs down your cheek after an obscene gag that resonates through the whole car.

you swallow around him as you reach down to caress his balls, and crack a triumphant smile when he tenses, brokenly whimpering and bucking his hips into your face with sinful desperation. he doesn't stop as he shoots his come into your mouth, using the hand in your head to tilt your head back so the overflow doesn't choke you.

you moan as you taste him on your tongue, drinking it down while you flash mike the watery, filthy twinkle in your eyes. he thinks that it extends his orgasm, his balls tightening with another spray of white down your throat.

though his body burns with fatigue, mike brings his thumb to the corner of your lips to collect a spilt remnant of himself, pushing it into your mouth where he feels the warm plushiness of your tongue wrap around his digit. "god, i think you're gonna kill me one day. this mouth is deadly."

"one day, yes, but not today or saturday or sunday. not while we're on vacation."

you both retire to the room after, two immovable stone statues in bed until 7 am, when you're both ripped from your sleep by abby's noisy movements. she's enthusiastically throwing the curtains open, drowning you two in painfully bright sunlight and skipping over to hop on the bed, narrowly missing your shins and knees with her uncoordinated steps.

"abby, abby, abby," mike drones groggily, reaching out for her ankles.

you blearily watch as she snatches it out of his reach, and you can't help but laugh as you two make eye contact. "come on!! we're on vacation!! we've gotta start vacationing now!!"

"we don't have to start at...seven twenty-two in the morning," mike complains, wiping at his eyes after throwing his gaze to the alarm clock. "maybe we can do...ten."

"ten is way too late! if we eat now, we can wait it out and then go to the beach and stay all day! pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease--" you wrangle abby into your arms, squeezing her close to your body in an attempt to quiet her.

you smooth her hair down, tucking it behind her ears as you whisper, "hey, hey, how about we go get breakfast and meet mike a little later, okay? we can go in our pjs and everything," abby's eyes light up at your plan, and she's nodding excitedly, pulling on your wrist in order to wrench you from the warm bed. "let's go now then!"

"let me brush my teeth first, sweet thing, at least."

after another generous breakfast, two cat naps, and endless searching through bags marked with the sharp zztt zztt zztt of zippers, you, mike, and abby are established in the warm sand of a southern beach; it'd been a bit of a hassle to put the umbrella up, with its complicated, ancient instructions, but your tired muscles and mind are extraordinarily grateful for the effort as you lounge in your chair, leaning your head back into a neck pillow and scanning your eyes over your science fiction read.

after a bit, you stick your bookmark into the crease of your pages and remove your sunglasses from your face so you're able to get a clearer view of abby and mike along the shoreline.

they're laughing together, running back and forth and taunting the tide as it crashes against the sand in a white foam. "you can't let the tide get you, abby! the sea monsters will take you whole!" you chuckle as mike sweeps her up in his arms, swinging her over the water as he treads deeper.

you set your book down and travel towards the tide, picking up more of their conversation over the soft wind.

"wait, what---what---oh no, the sea monsters are speaking to me. they're saying...i have to give you up." mike shakes his head in faux despair, beginning to fake cry as abby yelps in his arms. "they say they've been looking for an eleven year old girl named abby for their mission!" he continues swinging her, pretending to dunk her in some moments and keeping her away from the water in others, claiming, "no, i won't let them have you!"

you place your hands on your hips, raising your eyebrow in preparation to play along as they make their way back to land. "everything okay over here? i heard something about...'sea monsters'."

"the sea monsters have mastered mind control," abby matter-of-factly explains, wiggling from mike's grasp and curling her toes back into the wet sand during her impromptu intermission. "they specifically need an eleven year old abby, but mike is such a great brother that he wouldn't dare give me up."

"wouldn't do it for all the money in the world," mike affirms with a smile and finger wag pointed to the sky. after a moment, he winces and squeezes his eyes tightly in pain, rubbing at his temples with two fingertips. "they're still in my head though. it's taking all my willpower to fight against them."

you nod at the both of them, an oddly fascinated smile etched onto your face. "well maybe you two can take them down and make them reform. ask them why they need children for their mission in the first place."

"well they don't always, do they, abs?" abby shakes her head as mike reaches out for you, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "in fact...they're asking for...you now."

you widen your eyes, playing up your shock with a hand to the heart. "oh jeez. well, thank god it's an adult this time. what would the world be without abby?"

"what would the world be like without me? you ask great questions, y/n. that's why i love you."

"i love you more, abs. i'm not letting them get you either," you reply, running your hand over the crown of her damp head with an affectionate grin as you feel mike sneakily wrap his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. "mike, wh--"

"the sea monsters have spoken. they want you!" you're off your feet before you can even finish your screech, flying towards the cresting waves. one moment, mike had you in his arms, trudging into deeper surf, and the next, you're shrouded in icy ocean water, the salt stinging your eyes and coating your unexpectant tongue in a disgusting layer of minerals.

mike's laughing as he slowly makes his way to the sand, his back facing the shore while he waits for you to come to the surface. he's beside abby when you finally rise, the joy dropping from both of their demeanors when they take you in.

your staunch displeasure could be seen from football fields away and it makes abby mischievously gulp, "uh oh" as you irritably trek through the water, stopping when it reaches your mid-thigh.

you're like a goddess, appearing from the ocean in your simple black bikini, water droplets beading over the exposed parts of your smooth bronze skin, and it's all mike wants to make you feel like in order to atone for his obvious mistake. he wants to throw you into his arms and apologize profusely and plant kisses all over your body and ask you what he can do to make it right; he'll do anything if it means he won't see you with crossed arms and a deep scowl.

your attitude has mike sprinting over, almost face planting as his feet slip in the waterlogged sand. his eyes are overwhelmingly remorseful, and he begins to spew sentiment as he grabs for you.

"i'm so sorry baby, are you okay? are you hurt?" his voice cracks as he examines you thoroughly, grazing his hands over your face and body. you nearly give up your act at his attentiveness, but you maintain, rolling your eyes at him. he deflates at that, whimpering, "fuck, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i should've asked before i did that, i-i-i just thought since you were playing along that maybe it'd be okay...." mike's ramble trails off as he focuses on you stepping back into deeper water, and even more terrifyingly, your continued silence. "baby, hey, hey. are you okay?"

he follows you closely, and it's a foolish mistake on his own part; his consideration leaves him vulnerable, and you're able to ram your small frame into his torso, wrapping your own arms around his waist and tackling him into the chilly water. he goes down with a yell and comes up soon after with a cough and a smile, shaking the saltwater from his hair.

he wipes at his eyes as he reorients himself, rasping, "oh, i see. you were just getting back at me, being all cold and shit."

you watch him with your lips pursed amusedly, traversing around his recovering form so that you have an unobstructed escape route. "you gave me to the sea monsters, mike. i couldn't not get revenge."

"yeah, well, now this sea monster's gonna get you!" you noisily squeal as you run with high knees all the way to abby, who jumps and cheers for you back at the dry shore. "don't let them get you, y/n!"

"i won't!" you scream back, your words broken up with chuckles as you try your best to escape mike's aquatic nefariousness. you've made it out of the water, pulling abby into a wet embrace when mike clammers into the two of you, sending you all down to the lush sand.

it sticks to your skin as you belly-laugh with abby under mike's weight, feeling his heart pump through his ribs with adrenaline, and you can't help but think about how memorable this time will be for all of you.

mike and abby would be your family forever, and moments like this cemented that.

cute beach time!!! i love sweetgf and dickheadbf, they warm my heart.

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

#fnaf fic #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt fluff #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #faire is writing stuff #faire answers asks

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Once they’re far enough away from Angry Hicks Land, Erica rifles through the supplies before finding the bag she’s looking for. She throws it at Eddie, only for him to immediately fumble the catch.

“Wow,” she says. “You’d be immediately kicked off the basketball team.”

“Uh, my talents don’t exactly lie on the basketball court,” Eddie says—his tone is dry but his face is slightly flushed in embarrassment.

“Huh,” Erica says. “Guess Lucas is multi-talented.”

Steve chuckles in approval from the driver’s seat—hopefully not too loudly; yeah, she’d defend her brother to the hilt, but she doesn’t want to get too ridiculous and actually have him overhear her.

Thankfully he seems in a world of his own, sat with Max and Dustin at the back of the RV. His eyes keep flickering over Max and her Walkman headphones.

He’s frowning. He’s been doing that a lot—Erica’s sure he’s had a permanent crease in the middle of his forehead since the year began, probably before then, too.

She wants to iron it out. Doesn’t quite know how to.

The bag rustles as Eddie opens it up. “Um. What’s in—?”

“Essentials,” Erica says.

Eddie blinks. “Sinclair, this is a belt.”

“Your jeans are very sad,” Erica tells him pityingly.

Steve cackles. Eddie’s blush deepens, and he jabs the back of the driver’s seat with his elbow.

“You having fun over there, Harrington?”

“Oh, tons,” Steve says.

Erica laughs. Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

Once they’re parked outside, she half-loses track of him while correcting Lucas’s abysmal attempt at spear-making. He’s there in the corner of her eye, rough-housing with Dustin, but her thoughts turn vague and distant as she double knots the rope.

A little while later, she’s lying on her back, stretched out in the grass. She can faintly hear Lucas and Max having an arm wrestling match, Dustin providing old-timey sports commentary.

A shadow falls over her.

Erica sits up.

Eddie’s standing there with his hands on his hips. He’s wearing the bullet belt, the metal glinting in the sun.

“Whaddya think?” he says.

Before she can reply, he actually does a full-blown twirl, and it’s maybe one of the most embarrassing things she’s ever seen—which is definitely saying something.

She can’t help the fond smile from breaking out as she rolls her eyes. “Well, at least you’re dressed for the part.”

“Coming from you, Lady Applejack, that’s the highest of compliments.”

Eddie flops down next to her. He leans across and picks up something: her spear. She’d actually forgotten about it, just for a moment.

“Not quite a kukri, huh?”

It’s meant to be a joke, Erica can tell—but she can still hear the tension in his voice. He tosses the spear aside.

A sinking feeling she’s been pushing back makes itself known again; she wishes this was all just a game.

Eddie’s eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking something similar.

Erica nudges him. “What’s up?”

He shrugs. “Just thinkin’, Sinclair.”

“Hmm. Seems rare for you.”

Eddie snorts. “Shut up. S’just…” He sobers. “Had this whole… plan. I forgot.”

“About?”

A smile. “You. You were gonna, uh. Be it. If you wanted.”

Erica raises an eyebrow.

“Um. The, uh… the leader of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s fingers drum nervously on his knees. Erica takes pity on him.

“You do know I’m eleven, right?”

“Trust me, I’m painfully aware,” Eddie says with a fleeting grin. “Your introduction is seared into my memory goddamn permanently. No, I was gonna… there’d be stand-ins till you got to high school, like whoever wanted to try out… And you’d be the official, uh—”

“Next in line for the throne?” Erica says wryly.

Eddie laughs, but it’s short-lived—he soon turns thoughtful again.

“Sure. Now I’m thinking, what, eleven, twelve…” He counts on his fingers. “Yeah. By the time you start high school, maybe that’s just enough time for people to not lose their minds about…” He smiles weakly. “Hey, maybe don’t call it Hellfire under your reign.”

“Oh, so you think I’m chickenshit,” Erica says.

“No,” Eddie says softly, and suddenly he’s not half-joking; he sounds deadly serious. “Just don’t want you to—y’know, be mixed up with…” He trails off.

Erica’s not told him about what happened at the town hall, but from the way he’s talking she suspects he knows at least a little.

She wants to be able to snark back at him, you really think Hawkins will still be talking about you years later? Please, you’re not that important.

But the thing is, she can’t know that for sure. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next.

And that scares her.

Something else mixes with the sinking feeling in her stomach. It’s cold and unstoppable: the righteous fury she felt in the hall, as grown adults condemned a boy they did not know, when she’d figured out within barely five minutes of meeting him that he was all bark and no bite.

“Was gonna give you an open invite to Hellfire, anyway,” Eddie’s saying—almost under his breath, as he twists blades of grass around his fingers. “Like, just whenever you could make a session. I was gonna ask you, obviously, but… Was gonna write up, like, solo adventures your character could be part of whenever you couldn’t come. Same for Lucas, if he—”

“Okay, did you actually tell Lucas that?” Erica asks knowingly. “Or did you just think it?”

Eddie shifts guiltily.

“You need to tell him,” Erica says—remembering the week before Christmas that she’d accidentally broken his mug; they’d fought, and Lucas had eventually slunk into her room, somehow convinced that he’d been completely at fault. “Otherwise he just gets all quiet and thinks he’s done something wrong.”

“Noted,” Eddie says quietly. Contrite.

He looks off into the distance at the ongoing arm wrestling match and sighs; falling onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes, he says, “Thought I had all of Spring Break to figure shit out.”

“And what’re you doing right now?” Erica says pointedly. “Get planning, Eddie The Banished.”

Eddie huffs. Smiles. “Okay, okay.”

He lapses into silence. It makes Erica think that he isn’t just dwelling on ideas for a campaign. There’s a crease between his eyes—and maybe it’s a different kind of frown than the one Lucas wears, but it’s a frown all the same.

She gives him a moment, then pulls out a blade of grass and pokes him in the cheek with it.

He lifts his arm off his face. “Hmm?”

Erica holds out her hand. “I’m making the arrangement official.”

“The arrange—oh.”

Eddie sits up, blinks, blinks, blinks.

Oh, honestly, Erica thinks. He’s one of the most soft-hearted people she’s ever met.

She waits until he takes her hand before saying firmly, “To the future of Hellfire.”

Eddie smiles again, and his lips shake just a little at the edges. “The future of Hellfire,” he murmurs.

They shake on it.

“Seems like a fair trade,” Erica adds. “You get a belt, I get your club.”

Eddie laughs, puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

“Erica Sinclair,” he says, eyes bright with affection. “I’d give you the whole goddamn world, if I could.”

#erica sinclair fic #eddie and erica #lucas and erica #eddie and erica fic #eddie munson fic #eddie and erica ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #a tiny hint of pre steddie #erica sinclair #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #eddie and lucas #erica sinclair ficlet

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eds-gryff · 1 year

Text

Letters and Lust

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Requested by @potatosdragon (hope it’s to your liking!)

‘Hi again,

I really liked the writing you made with my idea, and I just thought of another one and had to send it to you.

So it's Edmund Pevensie again

And the reader has been sent to a boarding school so the writing would be letters sent between the reader and ed. Maybe he sends her a scandalous one and the teachers find it.

It might be a bit vague so I would totally understand if you don't want to write it but I just needed to see if you would.

Thank you so much’

Y/N- Your Name

L/N- Last Name

Y/H- Your Hometown/Home-Country

Y/n/N- Your Nickname

There is no mention of Narnia, so the fic can either be taken as taking place in a non-Narnia world, or just that the sex and the letters are more important than ruminating on the left-behind fantasy world 🤷‍♀️

Warning : smut, explicit language, charming-and-sweet-boyfriend!Edmund

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

Mareafe Academy

6th September, 1944

Dearest Edmund,

I have literally just sat down on the bed in my dormitory, and the FIRST thing I did was pull out a piece of paper and a pen so I could write to you. And, alright, perhaps I also arranged my novels in the little bedside table I have.

I’m early, and my dorm-mates haven’t arrived yet, so I can write in peace and solitude, too- shucks, I won’t be having much of that anymore, will I? It hasn’t even been twenty minutes in the boarding school yet, but I already really miss day school. However DO you manage at boarding school??? And you’ve been studying at one since you were eleven!

I miss you, Ed. I miss your freckles. I miss you holding my hand. I miss zoning out of the conversation when you talk about chess. I miss you not even realising that I’ve zoned out.

I wish my parents weren’t going away to Y/H for the rest of the year- yes, I will miss them, too- and I wish that St. Finbar’s had a vacancy so I could have attended then, because I would have been close to you throughout the year then. I really thought that’s how it would happen- that once school started again, you’d be going to Hendon, and I’d be going to St. Finbar’s, and we’d be close-by, like always. I mean, the last couple of years, we were together all the time, because the war had closed the schools down.

I love you. Chess-obsessed idiot you are, but I love you so much. Alright, you’re not an idiot, you’re the smartest person I know, but still. Your cheeks get so red when I call you an idiot.

I have to go, I can hear footsteps coming to this room. You know what that means- people. Ugh. I do not like people.

I’ll post this when I get time, and you BEST write me back as soon as possible! Bye-bye, darling.

Love, Y/N

Y/N stared at the letter after she capped her pen, and continued staring at it even as the noise of chattering and laughter filled the room.

She finally stopped staring once one of the girls approached the bed she was sitting on, with a welcoming smile- probably one of the old students- and she put down the letter. As she sat up and readied herself to stand up, and- regrettably- socialise, her eyes fell on the letter one last time.

‘Dearest Edmund’ were the two words she managed to read, and she smiled to herself.

The day after that, Y/N hurried to the telephone room during the break, after the classes of the day and before the prep-time of the evening. Her hurrying was because the monitor of her form had come by her solitary armchair, where she’d been reading the newest Nancy Drew, and informed her that her mother was calling.

“Hello, M-?”

“Don’t finish the word, darling, I’m not your Mum.” Came the lovely voice of her even lovelier boyfriend, Edmund Pevensie. “Did I get the routine right? It’s your break now, yeah?”

“Yes- it is-” Y/N had sent him her class-routine along with the letter, “but- I thought- the monitor said that-”

“Oh, I just put Susan on the telephone for that.” He chuckled. “She sounds very much like a priggish old lady.”

Y/N snorted, after which he continued, sounding a bit nervous, “Wasn’t sure how receptive a teacher or monitor would be to a young man calling and asking for the prettiest person in school.”

Her cheeks were already scarlet, “Ed, you haven’t even seen the others in the school.”

“And I don’t need to.”

“You charmer, you.” Y/N spoke, toying the telephone wire around her fingers. Then her voice softened, dropping to a whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His voice softened, as well, and she could imagine the tenderness in his chocolate brown perfectly. “I miss you, Y/n/N.”

“Me too- and the fact that I probably won’t see you until Easter break-” her parents would be returning to Finchley then, “which is SEVEN MONTHS FROM NOW, is just torture.”

“I couldn’t agree more. The moment I’ve enough money, I’m coming up there and we’re spending the weekend at some cosy inn.”

Her blush deepened, and- oh, how she wanted to kiss him. And more. Oh, she truly wanted that inn-weekend immediately.

Still, she spoke teasingly, “I think the Headmistress might have some problems with you whisking away one of her students for the entire weekend.”

“What can educational administrators or institutions do when it comes to true love?” Edmund spoke dramatically to his girlfriend, and Y/N- giggling again- could visualise him having his hand on his heart. “Oh, I did love the birthday gift by the way, my last suspenders were hand-me-downs. But why-”

“Because-” Y/N’s voice lowered again, but it wasn’t so much as it was sultry, “I like to hold them and tug at them when I’m on top of you, and honestly, with the state the last ones were in, I was afraid they’d tear the moment I touched them.”

She glanced at the door of the tiny telephone room, just to make sure there was privacy- before turning back to the telephone.

“And- your suspenders aren’t the only thing I want to tear off you, you know.”

She heard a gulp on the other end, and then Edmund’s hoarse voice speak, “What I would give to be back to the ninth of August- and the twelfth- and the sixteenth- and the twenty-third- and the twenty-fifth- and the twenty-sixth- and the thirty-first- and the first two days of September.”

Visions of Edmund, his pale, freckled body under her, on top of her, beside her, kissing her, touching her, licking her, fucking her- made their way immediately into Y/N’s mind, and she clenched the telephone receiver tight.

They weren’t visions, they were memories, and she pushed her legs pressed together.

“I can’t believe you remember all the days.”

“I can’t believe we had less than a month of it.” He whispered back, huskily, and Y/N licked her lips. “Oh, Y/n/N-”

“If you keep calling me that, I will run back to Finchley and have-” oh, she couldn’t say the word, she didn’t know if the walls were soundproof!, “and read with you in front of your entire family.”

“Read?” Oh, she just knew that Edmund was smirking. “Read what?”

“Everything you can imagine.” Oh, she could be husky and seductive, too! “Everything you want.”

“Everything we want.” He corrected immediately, and Y/N could no longer ignore how wet she was. “I- oh, goodness gracious, I need to have a cold shower now.”

“I need to have you, but I’ll have to settle for a shower, too.” She just hoped none of her dorm-mates asked why she was having a shower at such an odd time. “I should go, prep-time is about to start. Call me earlier next time, my love.”

“Okay, will do.” Edmund promised. He’d call her all the time- it was the only way for her to be in his life for the next seven months. Well, that, and letters. Yes, letters... He could make good use of those, too. He really would miss his girlfriend terribly. “I love you, Y/n/N.”

Y/N sighed, and rested her head against the wall- wishing it was her boyfriend’s shoulder instead. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she missed her family- missed home- she had to miss the love of her life, too.

“And I love you, Edmund.”

Edmund was not at school. He was grateful for that- though, not as much as Peter or Susan were, and more than Lucy was- for he quite enjoyed the time at home, with his family. He didn’t mind school, generally, for he liked to read, and learn, and he did well in tests- but who could pick school over home?

Certainly not he.

Regardless of his gratitude for not being at school, he did regret that he was at home- because of Y/N. It was entirely unjust that she was stuck there, in some boarding school she had never been to, with her family travelling away for some urgent emergency, away from her home, whilst he was at home and with his family.

He wished he could go to her- he badly wanted to see her, be with her. Just for half a day, even. He was intending to, and had even started planning to go there for Christmas, but his parents had informed them that their grandparents were coming to stay Christmas week- which effectively poured water on his half-formed plans.

All they had now was letters. Not even telephone calls- at least for the present, for the old telephones had been removed, and new ones were being put in, and Y/N had said that she didn’t know how long it would take in her last letter. There was only one working telephone in the entire school, the Headmistress’s, and, as his dear girlfriend had said, “I don’t think she’ll be very keen to let me use it so I can hear sweet nothings from my boyfriend.”

Edmund was making the most of the letters.

Several of the ones he’d written were humorous- even if he did say so himself, droll, and loving, chronicling the things that had been happening at home and with him, as well as asking Y/N what was happening with her and showing sympathy for her ‘incarceration’ (as she put it in one of her letters) in school.

My cousin, Eustace, came over with his parents for Dad’s birthday. You’ve met him, the shrill kid with the eyebrows, and the terrible name- Eustace Clarence Scrubb? Anyway, they were to stay the entire weekend, which everyone- including them- were very annoyed about, but we all had decided to take it as much in stride as possible. But Eustace is just so annoying, and he was driving us four MAD the entire day- to show how much, even LUCY asked for him to shut up. Well, she said ‘please, be quiet, I have a headache’, but that’s ‘shut the bloody hell up!’ for her.

At any rate, he was driving us crazy. I told you he has a fixation with entomology- insects- and he brought his whole kit and collection of insects with him. Can’t part with it, apparently, since he’s observing some live specimens to note down some specifics about them that he feels the entomology books got wrong.

We (Peter and I, since Eustace is sharing our room) let those live specimens free. Freedom is extremely important, I know you agree, my darling.

In the morning, Susan- with such a smile on her face she resembled the Cheshire Cat- said that Eustace had demanded to go home, and so our aunt, uncle, and cousin were to leave for Cambridge after lunch by train.

And it’s only Saturday! HA.

It is unfair, Y/n/N, far too unfair that you’re in school, while most of the country isn’t! It should be a law that each educational institution should open and close at the exact same times, and that there should be the same number of hols- otherwise, it’s just bloody unjust. If I wasn’t already sure that I want to be a lawyer, this would have made it CERTAIN for me.

You deserve better, my love. Especially since you hate school so much. If I could swap places with you, I would. I’d look very pretty in a skirt and your school’s uniform, don’t you think?

Did you read the new Hardy Boys? The Melted Coins? Frankly, I’ve been enjoying Nancy Drew more than the last couple of Hardy Boys- is just me? I prefer mysteries related not to treasure nowadays, I feel. Buried treasure just feels far too overused.

But several were- they were not humorous and sympathetic and bibliophilic as much as they were libidinous.

Edmund wrote those letters late at night, when his brother was fast asleep and snoring. He was a night owl, thankfully- though, not as much as Y/N, whose sleeping schedule was more vampiric than human. He’d write the letters, burning the midnight oil, blush quite brilliantly at the contents of what he’d written as well as the images of his beautiful girl from that his mind came up with, and then he would go and post the letters the next morning.

Darling, you know I think a lot, but you know what I think the most about?

You. Always you. Your smile, your eyes, your eyebrows, the nose I love to kiss, the curve of your lips, and your hips. How I hold them when you take me inside you. The way your eyes flutter when I flick your nipples, how your mouth opens whenever I lick at your sex.

How incandescent you look during and after sex, on top of me or under, your body pressed hard against me. How your lips call my name, how my name sounds in your voice. We had so few moments where we could do all that- but we really made the most of it, and I’m endlessly grateful. And we’ll see each other very soon, and I SWEAR all our fantasies will be indulged.

You make me tremble, and you leave me breathless, especially when I look at your face flushed with ecstasy and when I hold you in my arms while making love. And I love you so much in those moments, as I love you in every moment I live.

I miss your tits. Your lovely, large, lovely tits. I miss how you giggled when I kissed them. I miss all of you.

Do you know I have to keep taking showers more than once every day? Every time I think of you, I just get so hard and I need to get myself off, after which I need to clean up- consequently showers.

Your last letter, about the- about the swimsuit and the swimming exhibitionism thing- I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard from getting myself off. If it’s your hands or mouth, yes, but not from my own hands.

I want that, too. You know that. I want all of that, so BADLY. Sometimes I’ll wander down some alleyways, the ones that are shortcuts, and I’ll think of pushing you against a wall and fucking you then and there. I think of you wearing those sexy knee-socks as you spread yourself on the bed. I’ll think of how bright your eyes get when I enter you, and-

Fuck, I’m hard again. Bloody hell, Y/n/N, I’ve already showered twice today! I’m going to die of a cold, at this rate.

Chocolate is my favourite taste. I adore chocolate, and I’d probably eat the floor if it was made of it. I mean, no offence to those five kids, but I should have gotten a Golden Ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

But I adore tasting you, too. I love you writhing under me, as I kiss along your thighs, and I love you pulling my hair when I finally have my tongue inside you. I adore everything about you, every single thing- but, gosh, your taste. You taste like oranges, and I drink your essence like I’ve been thirsty for centuries. I’m a rational person, easily the wisest in my family- not that that’s a difficult achievement- but you, Y/n/N, you drive me wild.

I want you to fuck me. I want you kneeling in front of me, your mouth around me, sucking me harder and faster. I want you to make me moan your name over and over and over until you unravel me completely. I want to give you hickeys everywhere. I want to be yours. I want to be inside you again. I want you.

Y/N’s replies would come the very next day, and he would lock himself in the bathroom whenever he read them.

Her replies were even more explicit and- as she had herself said in a telephone call- more unhinged than his.

Every night before I sleep, I masturbate. I close my eyes, fix my blanket, and then I touch myself. I touch myself, and I think of how you hold me. I touch myself, and I think how you kiss me. I touch myself, and I think of how you lick my breasts, how you suck at my clit. I touch myself, and my body shakes, and I think of how you fuck me. I come, somehow, my hips lifting, and I think of you and only you, my dearest.

Then I go to the bathroom to pee and wash my hands, and then, just as I’m about to fall asleep, I think of you again.

I turn, shoving my face into my pillow, and I fuck myself again, all the while wishing it was your fingers and your mouth and your cock inside me instead.

I drew you naked in class today. I spent a lot of time on your fingers. And your freckles. I really, truly, madly love your freckles. I love that I’ve kissed all of them, all over your body. Even the ones on your cock. I love them. I love you.

Was down swimming today- it’s cold weather usually, but somehow it was pretty warm today. I was really glad, and the MOMENT we finished breakfast, I ran to get my swimsuit and went to the pool. I mean, I didn’t run, I definitely never run, but I did walk very fast.

So I went to the pool, wearing my swimsuit and a bathrobe over it, and as I was taking it off, I wished you were there. I wanted you to watch me. I wanted to take off my robe, and my swimsuit, and I wanted you to see me, your pretty eyes going dark as I get naked. And I wanted you to take off whatever you were wearing, too- hopefully suspenders. I love you wearing suspenders, and I love to drag them off you. Obviously, I’d be watching you as well, because how can I ever NOT look at you?

And then I wanted to make love with you then and there. Outside, in public, uncaring of whether anyone could see. I still want it.

Writing this down, I’m throbbing again. I can smell how wet I am, goodness.

I might kill someone if I don’t get you inside my cunt right NOW.

P.S. (adding this in the morning), I didn’t kill anyone. A lot of people at school make me murderous, but I’ve had self-control so far.

I have, however, put a photograph of myself in this letter, one that I’m sure you’ll like. I’m not as adept a photographer as you- you know how much I fidget- but, again, I think you’ll like it. And I hope, love, that you’ll send me one in reply, too- only if you want to.

I love you. And enjoy my tits. Let me know what effect they have on you.

“Post’s here early!” One of Y/N’s classmates called out- she had just stood up to leave the Dining Hall, and had seen the postman walk across the doorway at the far end of it. “Oh, hope Mum got me the hair-band I fancied!”

As her friend pulled her down to the seat, teasing her in whispers that she needed a few dozen hair-bands to keep her flyaway hair in control, Y/N stood up.

She never ate much in the mornings, anyway- if it wasn’t compulsory, she would absolutely have skipped breakfast every day, waking up exactly six minutes before classes started. And now that mail was here early, she would go and see if she had letters- she usually had one from Edmund every other day, and one from her family every week, as well as occasional letters from some other friends she had left behind. There were, though, also many days that she did not have letters.

Today was not one of those days.

Recognising Edmund’s signature on the back of the envelope, Y/N snatched it from the tray of letters, and grinned hugely. She grinned so widely, in fact, that a group of first-formers heading her way saw her and ran away in the opposite direction.

She usually opened letters from her darling boyfriend in private, since their letters were private, and- more often than not- intimate. Today, though, she lacked the patience and ripped it open as soon as she reached the- thankfully empty, since most of the school was still at breakfast- entrance hall of Mareafe Academy.

Her fingers felt the texture of the letter’s paper- but along with it, they felt a much smoother, cooler surface. She pulled both out immediately- she was a curious creature, and then Y/N almost dropped the envelope.

She wasn’t just curious. She was forgetful as well, and she’d forgotten what she’d sent along with her last letter. And that she’d added a request, of sorts, for a similar response.

And she had got it.

It was a photograph of Edmund. He’d clearly taken it himself, from the angle- and another, far more clearer thing, was that he was naked. He was utterly, completely naked, from head to thigh- that was as much was there in the picture. Oh, and his thighs- what lay in between them- Y/N licked her lips.

Almost immediately, she bit her bottom lip to keep from accidentally moaning, and then Y/N hurried to the staircase that led up to the dormitories to sit down on the fifth step. Setting down the letter and the envelope on the sixth step- yes, yes, she would read it in a second, she desperately wanted to read what Edmund wrote, but she just needed to admire the gorgeous being that the love of her life was- she looked at the photograph even longer. Her eyes danced around to his pale and lithe form, to the flat of his abs that she’d press her palms against sometimes, to different spots of him she’d sucked, to all the starry freckles she had kissed, to his lovely lips that gave her kisses that brought her both calm and passion, and to all the parts of him that she adored.

She would absolutely be missing her first class, so she could take advantage of an empty dormitory- she would look at the photograph, and then she would mas-

“Child, is this yours?” Came a voice- and then, immediately, a hand bent down to pick up the letter and the envelope carelessly left on the stair.

Y/N turned, in panic and horror and so many other unpleasant, cardiac-arrest-reminiscent symptoms- but the damage was done. The form-mistress for the first form, as well as the House-Mistress for the school House she was in, Ms. Potts, had her hands on her letter.

And her eyes were on the letter- growing wider and wider and wider and wider with every passing second.

“What,” Ms. Potts said, her lips pursed so tightly together they seemed conjoined, and her fair cheeks turning a blotchy red, “is this abhorrent, shocking, and vile thing sent to you?”

Oh, Heavens. Had Edmund written about how much he liked to have her sit stop his face? Or perhaps some details about how she sucked his cock.

Y/N did not say anything, because she felt petrified. Mortified. She had wished for death before, but she didn’t think she’d ever wished it quite so keenly and desperately. She’d take anything! Couldn’t those air raids start again!? Just for the day?!

There used to be a chandelier in the entrance hall- it had been removed as the war had begun. She wished it was still there, so it could fall on her.

Ms. Potts shook in rage for a few more moments, apparently as unable as Y/N was of coherent speak- before spotting something in the student’s hand.

“What is that?” She asked, her gaze fixed on the photograph of Edmund. “Was that with his letter?”

“No.” The lie was immediate, and convincing. Talking, she was not very good at, but lie she could very well. “It’s a photograph of- of the tulip-bushes at our house in Finchley, ma’am. My parents asked a neighbour with green thumbs to look after the bushes, so they’ve bloomed again despite the house being empty-”

“Is that so?” The teacher cut off the narration, looking unimpressed. At least the splotches of red were lessening now, Y/N thought. “Let me see it, then, give it-”

“No!” Oh, she could have her letter, but she would not give away a photograph of Edmund naked! He’d trusted her with it, and she would DIE before letting a stranger see it. No one ever deserved to have their personal anecdotes or their personal photographs or documents be circulated to or by those who were never intended to see them. “Sorry, Ms. Potts, but it’s my photograph.”

“Hm, of course. Privacy is important.” Ms. Potts nodded, seemingly backing down. “But so is decency, Ms. L/N, and the things written in this letter-”

“I haven’t read the letter, ma’am.” Y/N said, because what else could she say? She didn’t know! She still felt like she was having a heart attack, and she was anxious about whether the hospital- oh, anxiety. She felt anxiety, and if Ms. Potts didn’t give her back her belongings, she may devolve into a full-blown panic attack. “I don’t know what it says. I’m not even sure whom it’s from-”

“Says it is from ‘your devoted and dearest Edmund’.” Her lip curled, and Y/N couldn’t be sure if that was a hint of humour or hatred. She could be sure, though, that she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Or at least transport her to somewhere far, far away, somewhere that was preferably known as ’Edmund’s arms’. “I thought such adoring signatures died out after the Georgian era.”

“I always thought that such signatures existed only in books.” The girl gave a shrug- not a nonchalant one, though that was the effect she was trying to convey. “Maybe- maybe that’s what this is, Ms. Potts, someone having transcribed a letter from a novel and sent it to me-”

“Admirable attempt at lying, L/N, but the lie only makes things worse. Mareafe Academy does not condone lying, cheating, or-” Ms. Potts looked down at the letter again, and the splotches reappeared, “such disgusting sentiments being written to the young women of tomorrow!”

“Oh, but- but, Ms. Potts-”

Why wasn’t there a dragon here? Either she could ride away on it, or it could eat her. Either way, her problem would be solved

Oh, she so hated to exist in a world of reality.

“And, according to devoted and dearest Edmund,” The teacher’s voice dripped with sarcasm, and it didn’t sound nearly as attractive as Edmund’s sarcasm did, “you were the one who asked to be sent such uncouth correspondence.”

Well, what was she to do now? Throw Edmund under the bus and keep him safe, or tell the truth and secure expulsion?

She couldn’t do either of that. She would protect Edmund and she would make sure her parents did not have to feel the shame of a child expelled from school.

What excuse could she give...

“I’m a writer.” Y/N said suddenly, before glancing down at the letter again- as soon as Ms. Potts lost focus on it, she’d grab it back. “I asked a friend of mine to help me with certain- salacious parts of the novel I’m working.”

Ms. Potts gave her a look, “Are you planning to become the female D. H. Lawrence, Ms. L/N? Need I remind you, most of his books were banned because of their- their inappropriate content.”

“And now he’s one of the most famous writers of the century.” Y/N pointed out. “I- I think that counts as a win.”

Ms. Potts rolled her eyes, “Would you like me to take this letter to the Headmistress? Perhaps she’ll motivate you with suspension to show her the photograph-”

“No!” She burst out again, shifting her weight from one leg to another, that was how nervous she was. She kept teetering-tottering. Edmund’s photograph would ensure expulsion.

Oh, why was this happening!? Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d had to wake up early for breakfast- even earlier than usual, because her dorm-mate had pulled the curtains back to let in the rare sunshine!? Waking up was awful enough!

“No- please, Ms. Potts, I don’t- I’m so- I’m sorry. I- promise that- that I won’t ask for such-” loving, “vile letters anymore. Please, I’m so very sorry, ma’am-”

“Alright, child. Calm yourself.” She sighed. Generally, she would have taken the student and the letter to the Headmistress, for its contents were that questionable- but she had a soft heart when she hadn’t had her morning coffee. And- well, she knew the girl was having a hard time with her parents so far away, and- and, between the inappropriate things, she could read the love that seeped out from every word. Edmund truly loved Y/N, despite the disgusting things he did to her and she did to him. “No supper for you for the rest of the week, L/N. Your suppertime will be devoted to extra prep time, and you’ll have two slices of toast and a glass of water before you head to bed.”

“Okay.”

At least it wasn’t expulsion- and she’d just spend the prep time daydreaming about Edmund. About the food, though- she usually was very hungry at dinner, but she’d have to make do.

“Thank you so much, ma’am- and, again, I- I am so- so sorry.”

“Hmph.” She made a sound to acknowledge the apology, and then held out the letter. “I’ll be reading the rest of your letters from this Edmund from now on.”

She nodded quickly.

“Now go put it somewhere private, I will come check in five-” after she had her coffee, “and for the Lord’s sake, get to class on time!”

She nodded again, grabbing the letter and the envelope, before running straight to her thankfully empty dormitory.

She had intended on locking the door, undressing- at least part-way- and then fingering herself until she came, while looking at Edmund’s photograph and/or reading his letter.

Y/N still wanted to do that, she thought, as she sank onto her bed. She wanted to do it even more, in fact, because now she had his letter, and she was reading all the beautifully dirty things Edmund wanted her to do to him or wanted to do to her- but she would refrain. Her sex was throbbing and her mouth was dry, but Ms. Potts would be up any second, and if she walked in on her masturbating- well, there would be no hope for her at ALL then.

For once, she would have self-control when it came to Edmund.

“Oh, darling.” She said, falling back on the bed and letting out a very long sigh. She wanted to go back to sleep. “Our fucking has fucked things up.”

Two months later:

“Yes, fuck, ah-ah, yes-” Y/N moaned, one of her hands gripping the bark of the tree she was pressed up against, while the other fisted itself firmly into Edmund’s hair, pushing his head further between her thighs.

They were in a clearing in the woods behind school- not too far in that they’d get lost, and yet not too near the entrance that they’d be seen by someone from her school. It was parents’ weekend- and, in place of her parents, Edmund had come to visit. Ms. Potts had enquired if she would be alone the weekend, and Y/N had lied that her uncle and aunt would be coming to take her for the two days- and the moment that Ms. Potts had turned around, she’d grabbed her little case and run outside. Thankfully, in all the crowd of cars and people outside the school, no one had noticed that the person she was hugging was a boy her own age, or that the hug was decidedly not platonic.

After they’d escaped the school, Y/N had said something that they couldn’t enjoy themselves in a pool- sand then Edmund had completed her sentence by saying that at least they could have some pretty good fun in the woods.

Edmund had taken up a paper route the last few months, and had done some odd jobs around the neighbourhood- and Y/N had made some money by tutoring some first-years, too. She’d begun the tutoring as a way to lessen Potts’s suspicion- but it had had a monetary advantage, too. Pooling their money together, they’d managed to afford one night at a nearby bed-and-breakfast, and they had both been so excited, Edmund had got on the wrong train- he’d realised just before it had started- and Y/N had buttered her hair, instead of her toast.

Edmund dug his fingers into her leg that was thrown over his shoulders, his tongue licking a path along her sex, and he felt a deep tightening in the pit of his stomach. He was already pleasured and sated- the moment he had arrived at the school gate, and had seen her run towards him, after which she’d thrown her arms around him, he’d been utterly content. He was even more so now. He had missed her so much.

He reached up blindly- but he was so familiar with her body, that he found her bare breast at the first try, cupping it hard as he began to suck at her clit.

“Come on, Y/n/N. Say my name.” Edmund grinned wolfishly, as a muffled sigh left her lips. “Moan if you missed me, darling.”

And she did.

This was exactly- exactly- what she needed. What both of them did. What they’d needed and wanted for so long. How utterly she had missed him.

And, considering that they’d only had sex for about ten days back in August, it was truly astonishing how well he knew her body. He really was a fast learner.

He knew it so well that she just could not keep her mouth shut, though she knew she couldn’t be too loud, “Fuck, Edmund-”

Then his fingers joined, too, inching closer to her clit, making her gasp and shiver and doubling the building ecstasy.

Needless to say, it took hardly a couple of minutes for Y/N to reach her zenith, her body relaxing as she came.

“No, no, no.” She said, a moment after her breathing eased- Edmund was looking around for their long-discarded shirts, his suspenders (which looked even sexier than usual, perhaps because she was seeing him for the first time in months), and her skirt.

Her boyfriend looked at her inquiringly- good Heavens, he was licking his lips, she might orgasm just looking at that.

She pulled her knickers up and debated on putting on her bra- she was trying to wear them more often, despite how much she disliked them, because she’d heard a sixth-former whisper in the pool that wearing bras helped with back pain.

And she had a lot of back pain.

But she decided against it. A few more minutes wouldn’t make her back hurt even more.

“Come a little closer?”

Edmund obeyed, but still looked blank. He was perfectly content to just look at her- after months of just letters, most of which had been censored and sanitised after a point- he just wanted to gaze at her.

“Why, Y/n/N?” He asked, and was answered by Y/N kneeling, pulling his trousers down, and wrapping her mouth around him in one fluid moment. He started violently, quite staggered by the action, and drew a sharp gasp of a breath. “G-give a fellow some warning, darling.”

“As though you didn’t know-” She pulled away from his cock for just a moment to smile at him- going down on her had hardened him, which meant he was already close, “that I wouldn’t let you go without returning the favour. It’s been too long, love.”

“I- forgot.” His lashes fluttered, his breath coming in short bursts as she started to take him in her mouth again, her head bobbing up and down between his legs. “S- ach, Y/n/N-” she sped up the work of her tongue- harder, faster- and he had to bite down on his bottom lip to hold back a moan, “silly me.”

She sucked for a few, slow moments- not enough to make him come, but enough to make him tremble and moan her name- and she could feel herself throb again, because it wasn’t inside her mouth that she needed him.

But she’d contentedly settle for this for the moment- it was Edmund, she liked doing almost everything with him.

Carefully, she pulled her mouth away from him- and asked softly, “Do you like this, my love? Do you like my mouth around you, as I kneel for you? As I put my tongue on your cock?”

Before he could reply, she bent forward again and trailed her lips all over his length, sometimes darting her tongue out to lick a freckle or sensitive spot- and then began to suck once more.

Minutes later, as the birds chirped in the trees, they lay on the warm grass. They held hands as Edmund slid inside Y/N, into the togetherness and oneness they’d had too little of and they had missed for months.

The sun scattered through the canopy of trees, falling onto their bodies, which flushed and naked and tight together. Their lips were pressed together, too.

And when they came together, they whispered both I love you and I missed you.

After that, lying naked on the warm grass and in each other’s arms, they made fun of other people- specifically, teachers- and teased each other- both verbal and sexual, and bantered, all interspersed with a lot of kissing. There was a small picnic basket lying a few feet from them, as well.

It was going to be an amazing weekend.

----

Thank you for reading!

And requests are CLOSED. I have end semester exams in a week, and what have I been doing? Nothing that will help me pass and everything that will make me fail!

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie #skandar keynes #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia fanfiction #edmund pevensie fanfiction #edmund pevensie imagine #king edmund the just #skandar keynes fanfiction #smut #x reader #smut x reader #edmund pevensie smut #1940s #my fics #myfics

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mountmortar · 4 months

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anyway anyone who thinks that blue is the poster boy for the "jerk rival" trope when silver is quite literally right there has clearly never paid any attention to any of blue's dialogue in the games, where there are Quite Literally Multiple Instances of blue giving red advice meant to aid him on his journey in the same way that many of the later friendly rivals and neighbors do, even if the tone of it isn't as sickeningly sweet as the later rivals are. blue literally, in the game, waited in the middle of silph co. to challenge red to a battle to make SURE he was ready to take on giovanni because he was worried about him. do some of you genuinely think that blue was so mean to red when they were eleven that red is like. still traumatized by it when they're in their twenties or something.

red and blue's whole journey is actually kind of hilarious because you have professor oak very clearly favoring red to the point where blue isn't even an afterthought and blue's clearly decided that he's sick of it and hates red now but he still shows up to give him advice and check on him to make sure he can actually handle fighting team rocket and whatnot. it's just a constant loop of "yo! red! crawl around in grassy areas to find more pokémon! go visit bill (who gives red the s.s. anne pass) and thank him for creating the P.C.! i waited here in silph co. for you because i knew you'd turn up! you collected all the badges, too? that's cool! i was looking forward to seeing you!" that he buries under another loop of eleven-year-old "I'M SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU LOOK HOW COOL AND STRONG I AM" bullshit because again. he's just up and decided he hates red now because he's clearly & understandably jealous of all the attention professor oak is giving him ("you and your rival used to play nicely together when you were little, but lately, he has become mean." -> pokémon blue manual) but that doesn't change the fact that they've been friends since they were toddlers and that never once goes away no matter WHAT happens between them. do you think blue's phone call ("I'm Blue. Man, this guy called Red brought me down in a heartbeat. I haven't seen him in a long time...I wonder where he is and what he's up to… Come to think of it, you look a little bit like Red. Yeah, you do. Just...Just a little bit. Whatever...") came from nowhere. Do you think that isn't the sound of a fourteen-year-old missing his best friend. Grabbing you all by the shoulders here. Do you think they ever stopped being friends. If you answer wrong you get tossed into a volcano

#i don't know why i've gotten so fired up about blue these past few days but my god seeing the amount of people who make blue out to be worse #than he is..... Have you never been a jealous kid before. Did you even read some of what he was saying. This entire conflict is Oak's fault #and blue and red would literally get over it within the span of a minute after a round of 'sorry for being a jerk' 'sorry for disappearing #for three years' and then go take turns pushing each other off of ledges for shits and giggles #and then battling while concussed. they're friends. they've always been friends. that's the Point #anyway. ahem. glad to see them flourishing in bw2/sumo etc etc #rival blue #kanto

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dem-obscure-imagines · 10 months

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Merry Little Christmas

Druig x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Prompt: @the-sunflower-room “can’t stop thinking about druig and have yourself a merry little christmas- so cozy 😭🙏🏻”

Note: This was actually requested last year, I believe, but I’ve always wanted to write it. I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it, but I hope you like it! Happy Holidays, everyone <3

Warnings: None! Just cozy Christmas celebrations <3

Word Count: 1.6k words

Reader Is: Gender Neutral!

Druig was never one for holidays. He wasn’t a scrooge, per se, but, as an Eternal, the seasons came and went so quickly. Years were mere blinks to a being who was thousands of years old. However, the look on your face as you put the ornaments on the tree made something stir around his heart, he had to admit.

He was sipping cocoa from a mug with a snowman on it, one from your vast collection. Kingo was in the kitchen, mixing up beverages, which was why he sensed a bit of liquor in the chocolatey beverage. It was still good, obviously, but he definitely blamed that for the rosy hue his cheeks had taken on.

Definitely not the cute little reindeer antlers you were wearing. Definitely not the way your laughter sounded from across the room.

All of the Eternals were there. A rare feat, but with the danger defeated, for now at least, it was cause for celebration, a time to be with family. It was your house you were all celebrating in, a large place tucked away in Northern Michigan, which, at this time of year, was absolutely covered in a thick layer of snow, more and more fluffy flakes coming down as the moments passed.

You spent your time as a writer. One of the most prolific of your time, the reviews said. But then again, you did have a thousand year head start on the rest of them.

Druig would never admit to it, but he had read them. All of them, every single one. He’d borrow them from libraries, read excerpts in bookstores, but Makkari had a collection of them, too. She was your most loyal beta reader. Therefore, when one went missing, she always had a pretty decent suspicion of who the culprit was.

And he wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure most of your love interests shared a certain resemblance with…well, him. He didn’t like the way it stirred around in his chest, the way it made him feel so warm and…hopeful. But then again, he’d never asked you what you felt.

“(Y/N), where are your Christmas records?” Phastos asked, standing over with his husband, Ben, as they dug through a crate of records.

“Oh! I forgot to bring them down, I think. I’ll go grab them. I needed to get the topper anyway.” You stepped down from your stepladder and handed the ornament in your hand to Sprite, who was sitting on the floor under the tree, shaking gifts. Typical.

Druig watched as you left, eyes glued to you. Which was why he didn’t notice when Sersi had joined him, standing right beside him.

He gasped, mug rattled, but not to the point that he spilled any on his sweater. He cursed and looked over at her. “What?”

“You look rather festive, Druig. I thought you didn’t care for holidays.”

“I thought so too…” He muttered into his mug, taking a long sip.

“Right. Well, I think I saw some mistletoe in that box of decorations. I can put it up if you’d like?” She asked, that glimmer in her eyes that she got when she wanted to meddle.

Druig thought on it, as he heard your footsteps coming back down the stairs. He met her eyes and that was all that was needed. She nodded and set across the room, plucking it out of the box, along with a length of fishing line.

“I found it! The Muppets and John Denver!” You said excitedly, presenting another crate of records, this one all Christmas. “And some other stuff.”

“May I?” Phastos asked.

“Yeah, of course.” You handed them over and walked back over to the tub of ornaments, searching for a very special one. It was a large mug of cocoa with eleven marshmallows in it, each one etched with the name of an Eternal. You smiled softly and tucked it into the branches of your artificial tree, curling the fake pine to support its weight.

“Where did you find one with so many slots?” Druig found himself asking as he crossed the room to stand behind you.

“Had it custom made.” You replied, turning to face him.

“It’s beautiful, (Y/N).” Ajak complimented warmly from her seat by the fire.

“Thanks. Thought we needed something like that.”

“What are these?” Sprite asked, digging through the other box and pulling out a stocking with Thena’s name embroidered on it.

“Stockings.”

“You had those made, too?” Ajak asked, getting up to see for herself.

“Well, I did them. The embroidery, at least.” You admitted with a shrug, motioning to the hooks under the mantle. “We can put them up, if you want.”

Makkari nodded and grabbed the stockings, putting them all in one clean row in a blur of red and green. She stood next to Druig, elbowing him and tilting her head towards his stocking, which she’d put on the end.

Right next to yours.

He nearly choked on his cocoa. So did everyone know, then? Sersi, Makkari, who else? Kingo, no doubt.

“You alright there, Druig? Looking flushed.” Ikaris jabbed, that wicked gleam in his eyes.

Alright, then, yeah, it was everyone. Everyone but you, it seemed.

It was as if a stormcloud manifested above his head. He shook his head and stalked off towards the kitchen. He didn’t know much, but he did know a cookie would make him feel better. Snacks always seemed to. And there was no shortage of them, especially now, when you and Gilgamesh had baked nearly twelve dozen batches of them. Gingerbread, snickerdoodle, sugar cookies shaped like trees, chocolate chip, oatmeal no-bakes.

He reached for a sprinkle-covered tree and bit off the tip of it, the frosting sweet. The oven started beeping and you rushed in, arming yourself with an oven mitt before reaching in for what he assumed must be one of the last trays. Oatmeal raisin, it looked like.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, staring as you straightened up and brushed the hair out of your face.

“Oh! Thank you, Druig. I’m all set, though. Are they good?”

“Are what—” He looked down at the half-eaten tree in his hand. “Oh, yeah. They’re great.”

“Awesome.” You grinned. “New frosting recipe.”

“Well it’s perfect, whatever it is.” He leaned against the counter, that boyish smirk on his face. He wasn’t sure what came over him, then, but he had to get it out. “It’s great, by the way. That new book of yours.”

“You read it?”

“I read all of your books.” He confessed. “I think this one’s your best.”

Your heart raced as you met his eyes. Surely he knew, right? He had to. That you’d been writing about him for centuries. When he’d left all those years ago, hundreds of years ago, he’d taken a piece of your heart with him, a piece you’d only found in fiction, it seemed.

“Thank you. It…it means a lot to hear you say that.”

“Can’t wait for your next one.” He winked, plucking up a second cookie and leaving the kitchen before his tongue got him in any more trouble than it already had.

***

Later in the night, when almost everyone had gone to sleep, you were up, wrapping presents in front of the fireplace, folding the paper neatly, complete with name tags and perfect little bows.

You’d switched records. It was an older one, the Rat Pack.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…Let your heart be light…

The words were smooth, glided right out of the speaker. Snow was still coming down in droves. It was good you had nowhere to go, otherwise you’d be snowed in. Well, if your family didn’t have every superpower known to man, you would be anyway. You were glad they were there.

You were glad they were home.

“Can’t sleep?” Druig’s voice startled you from your reverie and you turned around, grateful his present was already wrapped and under the tree.

“Not until I get these wrapped.” You told him.

“Christ, you really do go all out, don’t you?” He chuckled, crossing the room and sitting on the floor beside you, yet another cookie in his hand.

“I think I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. Keeps me…in synch. The routine of a year, you know?”

“Mmm.” He hummed, nodding, face alight in the warm oranges of the flames. “I didn’t see it that way until…recently.”

“Until right now?”

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckled, watching as you carefully wrapped the last one, taping every edge perfectly and putting a tag on top, printing Sprite’s name with a pen. “What’d you get her?”

“You’ll have to find out tomorrow morning.” You told him, shifting to slide it under the tree with the others. “What did you get her?”

“It’s a surprise.” He grinned as you settled in next to him.

“Is it a surprise to you, too?”

He gasped, offended. “I got presents for everyone!”

“I believe you.”

“Sure you do.” He shook his head, laughing softly. “Say, ehm, (Y/N), I’ve been wondering…”

“Mistletoe!” You gasped, staring straight up at the ceiling where, sure enough, a string of mistletoe hung, glittering in the low light. “Who put that up?”

“Well I’ll be…” He breathed, staring up at it, too, heart racing faster than it had in any battle. “What…do you suppose we do about that?”

“I have a few ideas.” You slowly brought your gaze down, meeting his eyes.

He may have been the telepath, but you could tell the only thing on his mind was you as he leaned in, thick eyelashes fluttering shut as his lips met yours, pink and plush and warm. You kissed back, not leaving a single doubt in his mind that you wanted this, wanted him. Your hand rose to his flushed cheek, holding him close as his arm wound around your waist.

The grandfather clock struck midnight, and he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours, noses flush, eyes on you, glimmering with a million words unspoken. He did have a few, though. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

“Merry Christmas, Druig.”

#druig #druig x reader #druig imagine #marvel #barry keoghan #christmas #fluff #eternals #eternals imagine #marvel imagine

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tgmsunmontue · 9 days

Text

Season to Taste - 13/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN ELEVEN TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Hey Ice.”

“Hi Bradley. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. Alive and kicking.”

Bradley feels a little awkward talking to him now, his one remaining link to his old life. He wonders if it would be different if he was talking with Mav, or if they had something more in common than his dead father from over twenty years ago. All that though and he still makes the calls, Leandro and Silvia both giving him the stink-eye if he doesn’t and he knows at least that he doesn’t want to disappoint them. Short weekly calls when he’s at home in Italy mean they don’t expect him to spend a long time on the phone. He hasn’t called in a couple of months, not a fact he will be sharing with either Leandro or Silvia.

“What have you been up to?”

“Ah. Went to Spain for a couple of months. Worked in a kitchen there. Helped harvest grapes and make wine. Just… the usual.”

“Usual for you maybe. Sounds quite idyllic.”

“Well, butchering and curing meat isn’t idyllic at all, quite bloody and messy. So… the scenery was nice though. And I went to Barcelona for a couple of days, that was pretty cool.”

… … …

He hadn’t intended to just blurt out an invitation to somehow define what they’re doing. Not to jump from casual sex to… Dating? To trying out a long-distance relationship? After only knowing each other for five days? It’s crazy. But sometimes crazy just works and god he hopes this is one of those times. So many things simply feel right about Jake and crazy has worked for him several times before.

“I think you’re a little drunk.”

“I’m not. Trust me, it takes more than a bottle of wine for me to get drunk.”

“Yeah? You know that do you?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

Jake laughs and pulls into the grocery store parking lot, and Bradley’s hand is already on the seatbelt clasp, ready to go in. He’s shifted from thinking about convincing Jake to making a mental list of things he needs to get if he’s going to make the flourless chocolate cake for Maria, and some more food for breakfasts, lunches and dinners. Then he notices that Jake is also putting food in the cart and he purses his lips.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I might not have a fancy cookbook to my name, but I can feed us. Just burgers, but we won’t starve. Come on. You’ve been cooking non-stop, you deserve a break.”

Bradley doesn’t even bother trying to hold back, simply moves around the cart and brackets his arms on either side of Jake and kisses him, starting soft but it quickly turns harder before he hears someone cough and he pulls away, knows his cheeks will be flaming red and Jake is looking smug, one eyebrow arched.

“I ain’t even cooked you anything yet…”

Bradley just shakes his head, looks away and then studies the flecks in the linoleum floor. It’s not the food, it’s the thought behind the gesture and Jake doesn’t even seem to be trying to be charming, is just naturally thoughtful and sweet as well as being a bit of a spoiled brat and cocky asshole. All things he’s finding more and more endearing and attractive the better he gets to know him.

Crazy indeed. God he wants.

… … …

Everything to gain.

The words turn around in his head every few minutes, like they’re going past of a merry-go-round. The fact Leo had meant it seriously means Jake is taking it seriously, wonders how he’d make it work exactly when his leave is so limited, the fact that he wants to see his family when he’s on leave. He might like Leo, a lot, but he loves his family. And it’s not like any of them can just pop up to New York and visit. If that’s what Leo is even suggesting. Leo did say he travels a lot, and if he’s willing to travel to where Jake is, then maybe it could work? Hell, he hasn’t mentioned certain things, not really wanting to bring it up with just a guy he was going to have a two-week long fling with.

Except it’s potentially not a fling anymore. He studies Leo, who is reading and frowning at the backs of several different packets of chocolate. Jake wonders what he’s planning on making, considering just how much food he’s put into the cart already. He pulls out his phone and finally lets himself check the messages that Maria no doubt sent while he was walking to his truck. As he expected, a couple of messages from Maria;

>I like him and I think you two could be really good together. Don’t be an idiot.

>If you do decide to be an idiot I’m going to be his friend anyway.

Okay then. Pretty clear exactly what Maria thinks of Leo, and to be honest she’s one of the harder nuts to crack when it comes to his sisters. Not that he was intending to introduce a potential… anything, but maybe that had been a little naïve. God, she’s never going to let him live this down if he and Leo somehow… end up something. Lord, was this ever just sex? Leo decisively dumps three blocks of one particular brand into the cart and gives Jake a grin and Jake has to bring it up.

“So, I gotta ask. How do you envision us having a relationship exactly?”

“Well… long distance mostly,” Leo says and Jake rolls his eyes, hip checks him and Leo just laughs, hip checks him back.

“Yeah, no shit. And if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out. As I said, got to at least try right? But we both have to at least want to try.”

Jake wants to try.

“Grocery store is a pretty odd place for such a serious conversation…”

Leo shrugs.

“Well, it’s neutral and it’s bit of a… transitionary space. Like having conversations in the car when you don’t have to look at the person.”

“So you mean like we did on the drive here?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I guess we’re… trying this whole dating for an intense two-week period and then going long distance. Give it a shot right?”

Leo looks lit up from inside and Jake has to remind himself that they’re in the grocery store, but he can get them back to Leo’s place in about fifteen if they hustle.

�� “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Jake says, pushing the cart toward the checkouts. “Although, can I just say, if I’d had any idea that this was on the cards I wouldn’t have introduced you to Maria so early. For the record, I wouldn’t ask any guy I was dating to meet my sisters this early. Wouldn’t want to scare him off.”

“Well, that horse has bolted don’t you think? Also, I don’t scare easy.”

“Lucky for me…”

“Plus, you’ve met Vi, she is by far the scariest member of my… oh. Shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… remembered something I should probably do. Sorry.”

“Okay…?” Jake asks, because Leo is looking a little frustrated.

“I’ll tell you later maybe. If it becomes a thing.”

“Okay. Come on. I want to take the guy I’m apparently now dating to bed…”

“Wow. Romance is gone already…”

“Was there ever romance?” Jake asks jokingly, but also a little worried because he’s not romantic. His sisters tell him so constantly and he hasn’t tried with Leo because… it was just sex. Oh god. He’s failing at this before he even starts.

“Enough for me…” Leo says, and he’s biting his lip and looking fucking adorable and something inside him untwists and he wishes the checkout operator would go a little faster. Then Leo insists on paying for the food and Jake scowls, tells him he’s getting the next shop and Leo just grins, eyes mischievous and he says we’ll see, gives him a quick kiss before taking off at a run with the cart, leaving Jake to run after him.

… … …

Jake’s hands don’t seem to leave his body, which makes putting the groceries away that much more challenging, but he’s also not complaining, turning in the circle of his arms and raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“Thought you were going to cook me dinner?”

“I am. I will… just… dinner can wait…” Jake says against his neck and Bradley lets his head fall back, breathes in the scent of Jake, his sweat and the dust from working outside, savors the warmth of his skin. He rolls his hips, has been low-level aroused since their kiss in the grocery store, and Jake responds obligingly by grinding right back, slotting a thigh between Bradley’s legs.

“Won’t take long.”

“Yeah? Good. We can take our time again later,” Jake mutters, his teeth nipping and he lets out a groan. Maybe it’s a good thing they’ll have time apart, give Bradley time to recover, although he wonders if they’ll always be like this when they’re together, because it will always be a novelty, time together snatched and fiercely held onto, where they both make the most of it. He lets Jake shift him, bodily moving him towards the bedroom and it quickly become a bit more frantic, hands scrambling to touch bare skin beneath clothes and he just lets himself fall.

… … …

He has never wanted to order takeout more, but he also said he’d cook Leo dinner and he’s a man of his word. But lying there, roughly wiped clean, catching their breath, Leo’s fingers lazily trailing up and down his back, soft smile on his face, Jake can’t help but feel pleased with himself. He likes that look on his face. Likes the feeling of everything from the last few days and fuck it’s going to suck saying goodbye. But the idea he might get to have this again? That’s something that will keep him going. Leo’s stomach rumbles then, and Jake shifts and blows a raspberry, making Leo squirm and shift away.

“What are you doing?”

“Communing with your stomach. Speaking its language.”

Leo laughs again and Jake shifts away to standing, hunting around for underwear and jeans, pulls a clean t-shirt from his bag before deciding he might as well have a quick shower. He tugs Leo out of bed, ignores his grumbles about the promise of food and turns the water on, busies himself with kissing Leo while they wait for the water to warm up. It’s a nice way to pass the time before they’re both stepping into the shower and actually rinsing themselves off and it feels alarmingly and wonderfully domestic.

“So… I’ve been thinking.”

Jake turns and raises an eyebrow; he’s almost finished but apparently Leo has decided to wash his hair. So much for a quick shower.

“Yeah? When? Hopefully not while I was trying my best to make you come…”

“No,” Leo says. “Just before, lying in bed… and I haven’t looked into it, haven’t had time obviously, but depending on where and when you have shore leave, I could potentially meet you there.”

Jake’s hands still with the quick rub-down wash he was giving himself.

“You’d travel to see me for thirty-six hours?”

“You might get forty-eight.”

“You’d travel though?”

“Well, as I said. I haven’t looked into it, but if I could get a work gig either side of your leave, then… yeah. I would.”

“Holy shit.”

“I mean, no promises. But I’ve got pretty good incentive huh?”

“My dick’s that good huh?”

“You’re a dick…” Leo mutters, but his half-hidden smile makes the insult completely pointless.

“Your dick,” Jake replies with a grin, and the smile Leo gives him is beautiful.

FORTEEN

#Season to taste #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #AU

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gamblersdoll · 7 months

Text

PUT MY NAME ON IT, NOW IT DESIGNER. 1

New message!

“girl you gon call me or what?”

it made you roll your eyes. hakari always didnt like if you didnt respond right away, assuming something was wrong and you were in trouble or mad at him, that was a pro and con of him.

you started typing, making sure to turn off the notifications or sounds coming from your phone. you would occasionally look up to see your current boyfriend, sinji, still focused on the damn game… like always.

you readjusted your bonnet, finally pressing send.

Message sent!

“what do you want? cant call rn.”

you felt your heart drop to your ass when he immediately started typing, fucking creep. you couldnt call him– not with sinji right infront of you and not to hakari. the hell could he possibly want at … eleven thirty-two at night?

New message!

“ite, but call me l8tr.”

yeah, absolutely not.

. . . . .

maybe you shouldve called him, because for the past two days he had called you and only to have seventeen voicemails from him. if you had given him a chance you wouldve found it as a turn on. but knowing history, history.

“so, did cha call him?” maki asked, leaning in close to you. you never know why she asks even if she doesnt like hakari. but she could be very nosey.

“uh oh, boy drama!” gojo chimed, “well— whats his naaameee?” that damn idiot satoru.

you tuned everything out, only having to be pestered by he himself. you shut down your phone, needing a break from it anyway. you owned your own apartment, which was good, until it wasnt. you walked in to only see your boyfriend had left, which was fortunate and unfortunate, knowing sinji had only came over cause you had the good wifi and food. so you debated, call or not? you finally said fuck it. powering your phone back on and then taking a shower to relax first.

the hot water running down your hair and skin was always what relaxed you the most, nerves going away and settling until you prepared yourself for the worse and hoped for the best. throwing on a old oversized shirt and hopping into the bed, you pressed the call button.

ring!

you heard shuffling and bassbooted music in the back, and somewhat of yelling.

“look who’s pretty ass decided to call me.” hakari always called you pretty. no matter if you were throwing up or throwing a tantrum, as he would call it, no matter what.

“you said you wanted to talk, so talk.” you held a straight face, only trying to fight away the memories of what used to be your relationship.

“ill assume you heard about me dropping out and being some gambler or whatever, havent you mama?” he chuckled, waiting for you.

“sure, and dont call me mama, i have a whole—“ he interrupted you.

“yeah yeah yeah, your lil’ boyfriend or something.” he finished for you, immediately growing annoyed at the thought of you being with someone that wasnt him. “anyways, you’ll be getting your money back, and its been tripled.” what?

“you do realize its been a little over a year since that happened.” you deadpanned.

“its better than ten. i promised you didnt i?” hakari deadpanned back, matching you always. “i always keep my promises. you know that.” he stated.

“okay, good to know. anything else?” you tried to hurry the call, hoping to hop off of it. you heard him laughing in the back, calming himself.

“always, im inviting you to my club, you got till the end of the week or imma just have someone escort you here. got business to talk about.” hakari said, adding that onto your plate.

“so you deadlining me now?”

“you damn right.”

“ill think on it. now get off my phone.” you said, rolling your eyes.

he chuckled, exhaling. “hope to see you soon, babydoll.”

call ended!

you rubbed your face in your hands, that went better than expected? putting your phone on the charger and laying there, you should have not been on edge, but it was hakari, and you felt your phone vibrate. what time had it been? twelve o five.

for hakari, he knows how to wire transfer, infact pretty well.

“make sure it gets to her, or imma fuck yall up. dont make me repeat myself.” hakari warned, leaning back against his soft couch watching some fight he placed a bet on. he puffed out smoke from the joint he held, only waiting.

“its been transferred, kinji.” the words exactly he wanted to hear. “she’s gonna get it by twelve o five.”

by twelve o five, a hundred and fifty thousand had been transferred to your account.

repost, reblogs, shares, and tags are so welcomed.

#jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu gojo #jjk leaks #jjk fluff #hakari x reader #jjk hakari #kinji hakari #hakari kinji #jjk maki #maki zenin #zenin maki #hakari smut

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guyfieriii · 2 years

Text

New Person, Same Old Mistakes

After multiple rewatches of The Bear over the last month, I've been sucked back in and couldn't think of anything else but Carmen Berzatto.

Here's part one of four of a little something about our favourite depressed chef's years in NYC.

Part II, Part III and Part IV

He looks like he doesn’t really want to be here. At this date. If you could even call it that.

A drink tomorrow night. How does that sound?

I can’t meet up at nights. Work.

Oh.

I can meet you in the morning.

For breakfast?

Why not?

Why the fuck not?

A non-date you hauled ass all the way from Brooklyn at the crack of dawn.

An over-exaggeration, but it’s one you feel entitled to. You’ve taken a 46-minute train ride for breakfast with a man who looks like he just crawled out of bed. Which is a miracle since he looks as though he’s been up for days. It’s not just the exhaustion that rolls off him, there’s something else you can’t quite find the word for. You wanted to turn back the moment you saw him standing outside the bodega.

But for some reason, you kept walking. Equal parts curiosity and obligation. You made it this far, might as well see it through.

Also—

He was by no means unattractive. Looked a lot like a coked-up Gene Wilder, if you were being honest. Clad in a tight, albeit wrinkled white t-shirt and a pair of vintage jeans. Redline Selvedge. You concede to the fact that he somehow managed to pull off the ‘I got ready in under two minutes’ look quite well. Messy. Understated. Kind of hot. It was his hair that really brought it all together, sandy locks that stuck out in different directions like he’d run his hand through them over and over.

Your hand twinged at the thought.

Every time he lifted his arm to take a drag of his cigarette, you distinctly noticed the way his bicep bulged under his sleeve.

Christ, that’s…something.

He noticed you walk over and offered you a sort of smile with the raise of a brow, and fuck if it wasn’t endearing.

You finally took proper notice of his eyes. Blue. Crystalline. Ocean strong waves of azure in the warmth of sun-lit currents. They were strangely emotive, despite his face remaining fairly impassive. Despondency echoed through them quietly. They were a far cry from what you saw online.

You still admired them when you were scrolling through Tinder and came upon his profile. He had one photo - he wore a white coat in it, the ones that the guys on MasterChef wear. Like it was a professional headshot. He stood, leaning against a metal worktable with his arms crossed. Hair slicked back, with a ruminative look on his face. But his eyes—

They were hollow. A sepulchral for all sentiments buried deep within.

His bio read:

Carmen, 29

Chicagoan. CDC at Eleven Madison Park.

That’s all it said. His name, age, and profession. Like it was a fucking resume. You scoffed at the bare effort he put in. As if a picture and a brief description of his occupation were enough to lure the ladies in. Just as you were going to move on to the next man in a series of disappointments, you accidentally swiped right and matched with him.

Hours of scrolling and a bottle of Pinot later, it seemed like he was your best and only option. So you messaged him. He was good-looking enough if only a tad underwhelming in what he put forth. What was the harm in trying him out?

What indeed?

Seeing him in the harsh light of day, he looked entirely different from the put together guy you saw on his profile. Still good looking, just—

Tragic.

That was the word you were looking for.

“Carmen?”

“Uh, yeah.” He flicked off his half-smoked cigarette to the side and wiped his hands down his jeans before offering you one for a shake. It feels rough but warm. Calloused. A worker’s hands. Hands that could tell chronicle a novel’s worth of stories, you’re sure. You can feel bits of raised skin across his palm, around his fingers. Little scars littered all over. You want to examine them all.

You turn your wrist underneath to see a tattoo on the back of his, a knife piercing the hand.

Christ.

A few seconds pass as you examine the rest of his tattoos. He has a pair of cherubs holding up a Sun on his upper arm, and a snail with the words ‘Live Fast’ underneath.

Your gaze drifts over to his other arm—

You’re interrupted by an awkward clearing of his throat and you realize you’ve been holding on to him, shaking his hand for the better part of a minute. You let go immediately, your palm still tingling from the feeling of his. The air kisses your skin, it’s light, empty, remiss of the character you found in his touch.

“Sorry, I was just—“ Your eyes meet his once again and you’re lost.

“It’s cool.” He mutters. “I, uh—“

“So what’s the — Sorry, you—“

“No you go—“

“I—“

“Sorry, I don’t—“

The two of you stammer over each other in constant apology before you finally put it to a halt with an uncomfortable laugh.

“I was just asking what the plan was.” You look around the block, nothing but the bodega seems to be open this early. “Where are we going to eat?”

“Right…here?” He looks at you with mild hesitance, pointing towards the bodega.

“We’re eating breakfast here?” He has to be joking in an oddly genuine way because he looks like he-

Oh God. It’s not a joke.

You woke up at 7 am, got onto the subway, and switched three trains for a fucking BEC.

He looks at you in deepening discomfort, a little sheepish, only just realizing that this may not be the ideal date most women have in mind. His eyes brimmed with repentance.

Those eyes.

“It’s, uh- it’s fine!” You say with an overstated tone of cheerfulness. “I’m starving, anyway.”

“Right.” He looks unconvinced but opens the door for you, nonetheless.

“‘Uarda, Carmy!” A woman, probably in her late 60s, seated behind the counter broke into a smile as the two of you entered. “The fuck ya been, huh?”

“Work, Lucia.” His tone conveys ire, but his face betrays him.

He looks at the woman with softened fondness as she fusses over him. She’s loud and over-exaggerated in her mannerisms, hands animatedly gesticulating every word. All the while, Carmen — Carmy, stands there indulging her every word with the occasional apologetic glance spared your way.

It’s a charming sight, watching the two of them talk. Lucia is loud and mothering and Carmen is reserved.

“Didn’cha mother teach ya any manners, boy? Who’s the darlin’ behind ya?” She finally ends her tirade of ‘the fuck you been?’, ‘never show ya face ‘round no more’, ‘eat a lil’ somethin’ f’fuck’s sake’ and notices you. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. The fuck’s been mezzamort ever since he moved here.”

“I’m, uh—.” His date? To a fucking bodega?

“She’s a friend.” Carmen interjects quickly.

“Since when do you have—“ Lucia scoffs, incredulous.

“A friend who’d love some breakfast, actually.” You cut in, wanting to spare him the end of that sentence.

He wouldn’t have friends, would he? Doesn’t seem like the kind to.

Maybe you could—

“Should’a said — yo Gino! Get two BECs going on a — ya’ll have it on a bagel or a roll, doll?” She snaps into action immediately.

“Uh, a bagel. Thank y—“

“Hear that? A bagel for her, roll for Carmy.” She yells across the other end of the small bodega to the teenage boy sitting over two milk crates, scrolling on his phone. “Get off ya fuckin’ ass, Gino! Gotta feed these kids.”

The boy gets up with an exaggerated eye roll and strolls over to the flattop to get your breakfast started. “SPK?” He questions in a monotone over his shoulder.

“‘Course she’ll have it, ya moron.” Lucia answers for you.

“She’s a bit much.” Carmen is back at your side whispering in a low voice, apologetic. “But she means well.”

“No, she’s great.”

The two of you stand in silence, watching your sandwiches being made. With Lucia now occupied, it’s awkward once again. You’re not usually at a loss for words, but Carmen isn’t a man who oozes approachability. Not that you’ve known him longer than a few minutes. Maybe, eventually—

Maybe, you could—

“Coffee?” He asks, walking to the self-serve station behind you.

“Hmm?” You shake your head, snapping back to reality. “Oh. Yeah, sure. Cream and two sugars, please.”

What is it about him that makes think of any kind of eventuality? You’ve only just met. It’s been awkward and stilted, and he looks like a mess. The only things know about him are summed up in a one-line bio. Maybe it’s your desperation. Your sheer need to be coupled up regardless of the clear red flags you see.

Maybe it’s his eyes. Maybe it’s the sense you get from him, this veiled potential. Maybe you’re just a fool looking to fix a man you don’t even know.

You’re both back out on the sidewalk, coffee in hand, sandwiches packed in a little bag that hangs off his wrist. “Are we—“ You’re unsure of how to phrase your question without sounding like an idiot, but there’s no way around it. “Are we eating on the sidewalk?”

That earns you a disbelieving laugh and a smile you’ll remember. Only because it just seems so out of place. His lips curl up just the slightest in a barely there, you’ll miss it if you don’t really look kind of way. It’s all in his eyes. They lighten. The pensive wistfulness that floats in those pools of glacial blue volatilizes. What takes place in its stead is just a hint of ease and good-natured humour. It makes him look his age, just for that brief moment.

“The park? Yeah? Thought it’d be a good spot.” It’s jarring just how his consternation inches back in as quickly as it had disappeared.

“The park’s great, Carmy.” You say it, his nickname, without thinking. Your tone is soft with the intention to mollify.

He looks at you in surprise and you’re worried you got too familiar too quickly. But then it comes back — that ease. His brows dip slightly, and that faint wisp of a smile returns. The fact that you were able to bring it forth fills you with this warmth. It imbibes itself in your bones, coursing through your body, settling around your heart. It beats faster.

Faster still, as you watch him run his fingers through his hair, once, twice, thrice. You’re enthralled.

If you could just reach out and—

“Let’s go?” He takes a step forward and turns to look back at you when you don’t move. Your gaze falls down to his hand, the one he ran through his hair with. More tattoos. A flower on the back and the letters ‘S O U’ on his fingers. Your own fingers itch to intertwine themselves with his. Feel the warmth of his palm, pass by the ridges of his scars like they’re milestones on a road not taken. At any rate, isn’t that what people do, when they go for a walk on a date? Hold hands?

Jesus Christ, listen to you. One look underneath his lugubrious nature, and you’re fucking smitten.

“Sorry—“ You blink twice, pushing out from behind your thoughts. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You walk side by side, hands apart.

It’s a short walk, just a couple blocks. You enter the park through the side gate and pick the first empty bench you find and take a seat. You unwrap your breakfast in silence, setting your sandwiches down on paper napkins between you.

It’s still not what you’d have had in mind for a first date and yet, you’re content. It’s a warm morning for an early spring day in New York. Lightness flickers through your hair with the Eastertide breeze — it carries with it the scent of blossoming ephemerals, the hyacinths, and magnolias that grow at your feet. It’s a cool zephyr enveloped in the warmth of the sun, almost quixotic for a morning spent in the park. The best of both worlds, really. Refreshing the air in your lungs with each breath, just as springtime offers the start of something anew. Yet, the apricity that lingers under the sunlight shining from the east brings about this effortless comfort out there in the open.

It’s all so ideal, it pushes you to be brave.

“Can I ask you something?” You turn sideways, now sitting cross-legged on the bench.

“Yeah, sure.” Carmy follows suit, facing toward you, feet still planted on the ground.

“You don’t go on many dates, do you?” You blurt the words out in a straightforward tone, it might as well have been a statement and not an inquiry.

“That obvious?” He traces this bottom lip with his fingers in nervousness.

“Well—“ You shrug, noncommittal, with a sly smile.

“Yeah. I don’t date. I don’t really have the time.” He sounds almost defeated like he’s settled into what his circumstances are.

You don’t like it.

“So what made you come out with me?” You press on and hope his answer isn’t as resigned as he looks.

“I—“ He looks away from you, lips curling into a frown and you can see his mind churning behind his eyes for an acceptable response.

Oh.

You’re not special. He didn’t make time. His interest in you was just as much of happenstance as you accidentally swiping right on him.

“It’s alright, I kinda put you on the spot with that question.” You try not to sound too sullen. It’s silly. In a span of a few minutes, you’ve gone from apprehension to being so taken with him all because—

His eyes flash back to yours and he looks so fucking apologetic, it hurts.

You’re desperate to change the subject. “Tell me about your work. You’re a chef at Eleven Madison, right?”

“Yeah.” One word. That’s all he offers.

“It’s like the best restaurant in the country. That must be…cool.”

It breaks through the ambiguity caused by your previous question and you’re relieved.

“Yeah. It's…cool.” His jaw tightens just by a fraction and you wonder why. But that’s a thread best left alone.

“I know fuck all about food, forget all that fancy stuff you probably make—” Flattery is the safest bet for you at this point. So you decide to play to his ego a touch. “—So you’ll have to help me out here.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I’ll start simple. What’s your favourite thing to cook?”

That makes him pause. “At work?”

“Yeah. At work. What’s your favourite thing to make?” You offer him an encouraging smile.

“I—“ Why is this so hard for him? He fidgets with the lid of his coffee cup.

“Can’t be that hard to think of something, Carmy.”

“It’s not, I just — I’m CDC now. Spend more time on the pass than anything so—“

“What does that mean?”

“CDC. Chef de Cuisine. Kinda like-“

“Okay so you’re the head bitch in charge?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He scoffs. “So I’m at the pass — the part of the line where all chits are called out the plated dishes are put up.”

“So you don’t cook much anymore?”

“I used to before—“

“Okay, so before, what was the thing you loved to make?”

He actually seems to give it some thought. You watch him silently mull over, as you take a bite of your sandwich.

“Wild boar with celeriac, lingonberry, and hazelnuts.” He finally answers, definitively.

“That sounds…simple.”

“The wild boar was dry-aged for 21 days. The celeriac was in the form of a yolk. The hazelnut oil was compressed in-house. The peels were used to smoke the lingonberry gelée.” He says with a challenging raise of a brow.

Oh, he’s showing off.

“What the fuck?” You exclaim in utter disbelief. “A yolk?”

“Yeah, I spherified the purée with sodium alginate in a calcium gluconate bath.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing.

“I failed 8th-grade chemistry, so you really fucked me up just now.”

He snorts at that. “Didn’t do so hot in school, either. But when it comes to food I—“

“Finding your passion in something just makes shit you thought was hard a whole lot easier, doesn’t it?” If only the same held true for you. All you had to account for was a series of failed starts, an apartment you could barely afford in a city where you knew no one, and a directionless future ahead.

“What’s yours?” He asks, his eyes bore into you and you shy away from their intensity.

You walked right into that.

“I…don’t know yet.” You frown self-consciously.

“Kinda seems like you do.”

You don’t. All you know is how to say the right thing at the right moment. A skill cultivated out of your sheer dread of not being what others need. You have no experiences to share, you’ve done nothing but fail. School. Jobs. Relationships. You’re a fuck-up. So you’ve resigned yourself to the next best thing you can be — you can be something for someone else, if not yourself.

“I—“ You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to give yourself away. “I really don’t.”

“Heard.” You glance back up at him and are only met with recognition. It eases the tightness in your chest.

“What’s that?”

“It’s what you say in the kitchen when you acknowledge what you’re being told.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’m stealing that.”

“You’d have to follow it up with ‘Chef’ for it to really stick, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Heard, Chef.”

“That’s perfect.” It’s back, that smile. A mere tendril of one at his lips, but it bleeds from his eyes.

Fuck, it feels good.

Maybe, eventually.

Maybe, you could—

You finish your breakfast in idle chatter. You ask him about the rest of his tattoos.

“It kinda looks like an ‘E 22’ from one angle and ‘733’ from another.” Your fingers trace the ink decorating his arm.

“Yeah. 733 is the area code for Chicago and E22 is a dishwasher code for when the filter’s blocked.” You feel the muscles rippling under flex under your touch.

“I kinda want a tattoo.” You don’t draw your hand away.

“What would you get?” He doesn’t seem to mind.

“How many other dishwasher codes are there? Do I have some to pick from or just the one?”

He tells you more about things he likes to cook. You meet him in the middle with your one-pan pasta recipe and slowly watch the horror creep into his face.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, Carmy.”

“Worked with food long enough to know what doesn’t work. And pasta cooked in canned tomatoes and half and half doesn’t work.”

He tells you some things about his life in Chicago. He mentions his siblings but the look on his face tells you it’s not a topic you ought to probe at. It’s repentant in some parts and reminiscent in others. But there’s also this resonant anger beneath it. You see the tick in his jaw, the way his fingers tap against the lid of his cup a bit faster, and the way he adjusts his position to sit a bit straighter. All to distract from the hurt. You recognize it because it’s something you do yourself.

“My family’s not come to see me. I’ve — uh been too busy.”

“Neither has mine.” But you have all the time in the world. You don’t say that, though.

You try and lighten the mood by telling him about your life as a gig worker. Ever since you moved to the city, you’ve barely managed to hold down a job for longer than 6 months at the time. So you wised up and made sure to have back-ups. Whenever you’ve brought that up on dates, you’ve only been met with thinly veiled judgment. But Carmy-

“It’s kinda like working in the kitchen. No two days are the same. Keeps shit interesting.”

That’s a good way to look at it, you decide.

In under the span of a couple hours, you leave his company feeling better. The breakfast was pretty decent. Carmy assured you it’s the best of what you’d find in the neighbourhood.

“I don’t fuck with brunch.” He’d said. You’d laughed, but he was serious. “It’s a hell shift, and I can’t eat without picturing how fucked they are back of house.”

You part ways with a hug and a promise of a text from him for whenever he’s free next.

“I’m going back to Chicago for a couple days in a few weeks. But when I’m back—“

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to see you again.”

The weeks passed, and you waited.

The text never came.

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx

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saphronethaleph · 2 months

Text

The Second Order

Ben looked up at the sound of voices.

“...just saying,” someone was just saying. “Why Ossus? I get that it’s not a bad place to be sited, but Yavin Four was right there.”

“I considered both,” Uncle Luke replied. “And several other places. But there was… so much to learn, on Ossus.”

“I’m just too used to Yavin Four, I guess,” the other person replied, as they rounded a corner, then glanced up. “Oh, good… uh, is it morning? I’m not sure if it’s morning.”

“It’s the afternoon,” Ben said, putting down his calligraphy set. “Who are you?”

“Master Katarn,” the man introduced himself. “Or, Kyle, I guess. Kyle is probably better, really, it’s just… you know. Jedi Temple.”

“This is my nephew, Ben Solo,” Luke said. “He’s a fine apprentice.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kyle said, holding out his hand to shake, and Ben took it hesitantly.

Much to his relief, the strange Jedi Master – and how did that work? Ben thought he knew everyone who could even try to claim that title – didn’t try the old crusher-grip trick, instead giving him a firm handshake before letting go again.

“Master Skywalker, who is this?” Ben asked. “How don’t I know about him?”

“I’ll let him explain,” Luke invited.

Kyle had looked faintly confused, for a moment, then shrugged it off.

“So there’s this thing called flow walking,” he said. “And I was doing it to try and get out of a Vong ambush, and I ended up here. Fortunately it looks like they didn’t manage to follow me here.”

“...what are Vong?” Ben said.

“If you haven’t heard of them…” Kyle began, then frowned at Luke in an assessing sort of way. “What year is it?”

“You think you might have travelled in time?” Ben asked, realizing what that meant. “It’s, uh, 8004 CRC… um, the New Republic calendar is based on years after the Battle of Yavin, did that happen in your world?”

“Yeah, that happened,” Kyle agreed. “Your uncle destroyed the Death Star, right?”

“Correct,” Luke said. “It’s currently the year twenty-seven, by that reckoning.”

“Great, so I only travelled between universes,” Kyle said. “So… that means the Vong probably aren’t a problem for you, unless they’ve been delayed… have you had any other serious crises that we haven’t? The Yavin academy was assaulted several times, but we’ve always bounced back… did you have the Empire Reborn? Or the Cult of Ragnos?”

Luke and Ben exchanged glances.

“I… don’t know what those are,” Ben admitted.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing either,” Luke agreed. “The only real crisis we’ve faced was the Knights of Ren, but fortunately they didn’t take the lives of any young Jedi.”

“Lucky you,” Kyle said, sounding like he meant it sincerely.

“How are you a Jedi Master?” Ben asked, suddenly.

“It took me a while to accept the title, believe you me,” Kyle replied, with a chuckle. “I’m about… thirty, forty percent self taught, Mara did another twenty percent, and the rest was reciprocal learning from the rest of the Academy. Ultimately Luke’s… counterpart, I guess, named me the Academy’s Battlemaster, but it’s still a struggle to convince myself that I deserve the term.”

He shrugged. “Still, you must have the same kind of problem here, right? Though you didn’t have any of those attacks… any sign of Dark Jedi or rival Sith academies?”

Uncle and nephew both shook their heads, and Kyle seemed to be doing some internal calculations.

“You started your academy in, what, eight to twelve ABY?” he asked. “If you’re much like the Master Skywalker I knew.”

“Eleven,” Ben provided. “Though I didn’t join at that point, I was only six.”

Kyle nodded.

“That means… you must have, what, a hundred and sixty?” he asked. “Two hundred?”

“...um,” Luke began. “Two hundred what?”

“Jedi?” Kyle replied, looking confused.

Ben coughed.

“We have twenty-three,” he said. “I’m one of them, in case it wasn’t clear.”

Kyle just kind of stared for a moment.

“...with all due respect to a fellow Jedi Master,” he began. “What have you been doing with the last sixteen years?”

“I have no idea how to teach!” Luke countered. “I don’t know what your Luke’s training was like, but my training was half an hour with Old Ben in a starship blindfolding me and shooting me with a remote, then I went to a swamp and got… a few months of training, but it was a few months of training from a man who I have now realized was probably crazy before he spent two decades alone in a swamp.”

Kyle nodded along. “Yeah, that’s about right,” he said. “You learned how to touch the Force, and a lot of the rest is just instinct. Most of the education that takes place in a Jedi Academy is when to use the Force – and when not to use the Force.”

He shrugged. “It’s honestly more important that someone learn how to honestly self-assess themselves and how to resist the temptations of the Dark Side than it is to make sure they know exactly how to perform a lightsaber form. If someone needs training on a specific kind of Force skill, teach them at that; don’t feel that someone’s training has to be complete before they’re graduated as a Knight, or even able to be a Master. Learning is continuous.”

Luke looked like he was trying to work out which of several different emotions to be, including embarrassed, offended, contrite and mid-revelation.

“Actually, about a year ago I was in a meeting with the temple management, on how to deal with the war,” Kyle went on, rummaging in his pockets. “We were discussing the best way to implement viable recovery procedures… do I have it on me…”

“I don’t know what those are,” Luke admitted.

“The Vong war on my side of the divide has been causing a lot of casualties,” Kyle explained. “They’ve been going after Jedi especially, and it’s the first time the New Jedi Order’s numbers have contracted… and after what happened before, with the Purges, we were talking about the best way to make sure that the New Jedi Order could flourish and rebuild more quickly. Calista said that she was aiming for the ability to double the Order’s size every four years on average from incoming students… aha!”

Pulling a small cube out of his pocket, Kyle held it up – heedless to the astonished reactions of both Ben and Luke to that statistic.

“I’ve got another one of these back on my ship,” he explained “Calista is pretty sure that these are basically the same as the old Holocrons, and the idea is to share information among all of them to make a distributed archive of knowledge for the New Jedi Order. This one’s… probably mostly up to date.”

He tossed it to Luke, who caught it.

“Feel free,” he said. “Like I say, I’ve got another… I can probably stick around for a bit to help, it should take a few days for the Vong back home to decide that I’m missing and I want to take at least that long before I try going home.”

Ben was trying to recover from everything he’d heard over the last few minutes.

“...actually, now I come to think of it, have you heard of me before?” Kyle asked, most of his focus on Luke. “Because I might need to borrow a starship and take a quick trip to Ruusan to avoid giving you a very serious problem at some point… is there anything that would stop me getting there? I’m not really very clear on politics here.”

“Where’s Ruusan?” Luke asked, tearing his eyes away from the holocron.

“Teraab sector, mid-rim,” Kyle replied. “P-11 on the grid square map.”

“That should be fine,” Ben said. “The First Order isn’t anywhere near there.”

Kyle frowned. “What’s the First Order?”

Ben did his best to explain.

By the end of the explanation, Kyle looked like he was planning on using the starship he planned to borrow to fly into First Order space and look for a fight.

Ben had the oddest feeling that Kyle might well win.

“Did you learn anything from it, yet?” Ben asked, some hours later, after Kyle had left in a borrowed shuttle. “I’ve never actually seen a modern Holocron.”

“Neither have I,” Luke replied, looking up from his study of the little cube. “And, for some reason, this one keeps interfacing with me using a face I’ve never seen before. But I have the strangest feeling she knows me.”

He sighed. “And… I don’t know what I’ve been doing wrong, not yet, but I’m now quite sure I’ve been doing something wrong. I’ve been too afraid of getting things wrong, to do them right.”

After a moment, Luke caught Ben’s eye.

“Ben, I want to tell you something,” he said. “It’s a secret that your parents asked me to keep, and I agreed, because… when I learned it, I was about the same age you are now. And I didn’t take it well.”

“You… didn’t take it well?” Ben repeated, trying to reconcile that with his uncle the Jedi Master.

“Well, I did try to jump into a gas giant not long afterwards,” Luke said. “So I’d say I didn’t take it especially well, yes… but you have to learn some time. I can’t shield you from the painful truth forever.”

He sighed. “So… I’m going to tell you about my father, your grandfather. About who he was, and who he became, and who he still was, deep inside, all but suffocated under the lies of an evil man who wanted to use him as a weapon. I’m going to tell you the full story of Anakin Skywalker.”

(Legends New Jedi Order:

Foundation of the Praexum 11 ABY

Relative peace 11-25 ABY, with several major crises they had to deal with (which caused casualties)

By 25 ABY, there were at least 100 Jedi, with several of the students now Masters in their own right and actively training new Padawans.

The resultant force was very robust, managing to handle serious casualties (they got cut in half in the Vong war of 25-29 ABY, but rebounded to over 200 by 35 ABY) and had mastered rapid recovery - by 44 ABY they are up to over a thousand, despite another war in the interim.

Disney Canon New Jedi Order:

Foundation of the Academy around 10-11 ABY

Almost total peace 11-28 ABY

Then Ben Solo turns to evil and destroys the whole thing in one go, leaving about three survivors who hadn't been present at the time.)

#star wars #luke skywalker #kyle katarn #ben solo #the Canon NJO really did not get a shift on #the Legends NJO absolutely flourished in comparison

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