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ladynestaarcheron · 3 years

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The Rage

ao3

basically @that-golden-lyre and i have a daily conversation about how much we hate a/cosf and she was talking about the bj scene. and i was like yeah that should have been better. here is that, still a/cosf-y, but not as suckish. enjoy!

---

Cassian sits there, quiet, frowning, ignoring her. That's not it; he's not ignoring her, he's ignoring everything. He's upset. And does she really have the right to feel put out at this, when she has rejected him nearly every time he's spoken to her?

Nesta's mind conjures up images of his rejections of her, one by one. But that does not leave her feeling justified; only worse, and Cassian is still sitting here, staring at nothing, and the urge to bring him back to normal, to their usual dynamic--maybe even create the illusion that it isn't killing her to be alive--seizes her strongly, and she blurts out, "You should find a way to calm down."

Cassian doesn't even look up. "I just can't get Eris' smug face out of my head. I'll be fine tomo--"

"I could give you a massage."

Cassian looks up at the same time Nesta blinks, like they both can't believe what she's just said. Nesta's eyes flit across the room, as though searching for someone else who has spoken, but alas, it is her. She doesn't let her cheeks betray her, standing her ground and keeping her gaze cool.

"What?" he asks.

"To help you relax," she says, voice even. "It'll help rid the tension." She adds, to make the offer sound less absurd and more appealing, "I used to get them all the time to help me sleep. I learned how to do them, too." Lie and lie. But Elain would order them when they had money and Nesta watched her practice on Feyre. Nesta herself had never allowed it; she didn't want anyone touching her, pinching at her.

Cassian raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

At least he already seems less dejected.

"Yes." Then she says, "It's fine if you don't want to."

He grins. "Are you joking? Do you really think I'd turn this chance down?"

Relief hits her sharply, turning the air she breathes fresh and crisp, at the uptick in his mood, even though his smile does not reach his eyes. "All right," she says, and waves a hand at him.

When Elain had practice on Feyre, she had lain on a couch or bed. Cassian shrugs his shirt off, tossing it atop a chair, and leans forward on the table. "Careful of my wings, yeah?" he says, face on his crossed arms.

"Of course," Nesta says, pulse racing.

A small bottle of oil appears as she rises to stand over him. Right, Elain had used those.

Nesta takes a deep breath slowly, quietly, so as not to rouse suspicion. She pours a generous amount onto her hands, rubs them together, and carefully lowers her palms to his shoulders, laying them flat.

He hisses slightly, and she pulls her hands back. "What?"

"Nothing. You're hands are cold."

"Oh," Nesta says, reddening.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Now, of course, it is all she can think about. But she tries again, leaning over and holding her arms so that she does not touch his wings or the spot from which they protrude from his back. At his shoulders once more, Nesta grabs as much flesh as she can with her fingers and squeezes.

Cassian makes no sound. She continues.

She rubs her fingertips along his skin as she--hopefully--massages. Her hands move closer to his neck, to the spot that always holds the most tension for her, and press down hard. He hisses.

"Sorry," she says automatically.

"No, no," he says, eager. Eager. "That was good. Do that again. Please."

She does, and he makes another little hiss. Heat blooms in her cheeks, more pleased than embarrassed. Her fingers and arms tire quickly, but she tries not to let it hinder her movements, as his quiet, mumbled yeses and again, pleases make it worth it.

She keeps her hands near his neck, like he wants, but her eyes travel all around his back. His swirling tattoos, she sees, are made up of tiny flora and what she guesses is Illyrian writing. Her fingers itch to trace them. She digs them in harder, instead, to rid herself of the feeling. Cassian groans. It does not help her.

After a few minutes, Cassian lets out a sated, "All right." Though her arms ache terribly, it hurts even more to pull her hands away. She flinches at that thought; what a stupid thing to think.

He doesn't put his shirt on as he turns, standing, to look at her. He grins. "You know, I think you could throw a wicked punch."

"It's the rage," Nesta responds without thinking.

He laughs. "Well, maybe I should return the favor. Help release your tension."

Nesta takes a small step backwards. After their two--ah, trysts, she isn't sure what that means. Rather, she is sure what that means, she just isn't sure what it means.

That's not true either. She knows what it means. It means they both want each other and she still can't have him.

Cassian nudges her with his elbow. "You look like you'd need that now. Where'd you go?"

Nesta brings her face back up. "No where. I'm...glad you're feeling better."

"Well, I'd feel a lot better if I didn't feel like I didn't leech you're good mood out of you."

"I wasn't in a good mood," she says. Why did she say that? "I mean, I wasn't in a bad mood. I...I'm tired--"

"Hang on," he says, raising his hands. Why won't he put his shirt on? "I don't want to be the prick who sat here feeling sorry for himself until you gave him a massage and then just left."

"I offered. And now I'm tired. Don't read too much into things."

"What do you like to do when you're upset?"

"Nothing. I'm not upset--"

"I can't believe I just asked you that," he interrupts, shaking his head. "I feel like a prick for not knowing. I should know that by now, right?"

Nesta doesn't answer. She can't think of a response.

"Can I say something? With no bullshit?"

Nesta bristles. That's what he always says to her. "Say whatever you want."

He chuckles, mirthless. "I've already set you off. I don't know what I did...look, we had--it was good, right? Before...and then again? In your room?"

Nesta freezes.

"And we obviously care about each other. Maybe we're not always speaking the same language but we know that, Nesta, don't we?"

He looks at her with wide, earnest eyes. Why does it always make her want to die when he looks at her that way? Why can't she just...be different? Better?

He doesn't continue. He won't until she says something, but she can't. So she nods, once, tightly.

He grins. "All right, good. I don't really know what we have to do...I don't know if we just start over or try and fix--well, I don't know. But maybe we can do that tomorrow. And tonight, will you...come with me to a show?"

Nesta blinks, but he hurries to explain.

"You told me the White Wolf was your favorite because of the music, right? So maybe you'd like a show?"

The horrible, bitter, viper in her stirs awake. She should have just gone to bed.

"No," she says, cold.

But he doesn't deflate and doesn't accept it. "Why not?"

The ache in Nesta's arms disappears. Her hands fist at her side and she feels ready to prove to him just how wicked a punch she can throw if pressed. "I'm not allowed in Velaris."

Cassian blinks. "What do you mean? Of course you are."

Nesta's jaw clenches. She wants to rage, to scream. "Because you allow it?"

"What do you--I was asking you! You can do whatever you want--"

"Don't you dare--you think I want to be here? You think I want to be training with you? You think I ever wanted to be taken to Illyria? How have you deluded--you threatened me!" she bursts out. "Being taken to the human world was a threat! I would be killed!"

As she says it, Nesta knows it's what she should have chosen. Better to die than live like this. And it doesn't matter that she deserves it, she doesn't care about what she deserves, she just wants it to stop.

"That was a bluff!" Cassian cries. "Come on, Nesta, you know that! That was just so you...so you could come without feeling like you were choosing to take care of yourself! Because you hate yourself so much that you can't even stomach doing one thing for yourself, even if it would save your life--"

"Don't talk to me about saving my life," Nesta cuts him off.

Cassian inhales and exhales deeply, closing his hands into fists and then opening them. When he speaks, he's calmer. "I know we have a long way to go. I know that there's a lot about you that I don't know. But you've once again proven that you are at your core someone who cares deeply for those she cares about. And it's hard..." Cassian closes his eyes and takes another deep breath before continuing. "It's hard to care about you when you...hate yourself so much that...that everytime we reach out you shut us down and punish yourself further. It's actually fucking terrifying, Nesta, all right? But I'm putting my foot down, I don't care what Rhys or Feyre say. We're doing something nice tonight. Something you'll enjoy."

All I want to do is scream.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Not taking no for an answer," he replies, stance and tone just as severe. "We can go to a show or the beach or fly around or a cooking class or any fucking thing in the world that isn't about you trying to punish yourself and just not think about all your pain for one night."

Nesta says, shaking with ire or something else, "Don't try to tell me--oof--"

For she is cut off when he crashes her towards him in a hug. "Pick something," he says over her head. "Or let me pick something." He squeezes her tighter, and it's--oh, gracious, she wants to weep at how much she craves this, but she can't, she can't have this--

His hands brush over the small of her back. Her eyelids flutter shut.

If she closes her eyes, she can pretend. His chest is still bare. This is a different world. He's the same, she's different. Alive, deserving. She can manage.

She keeps her eyes shut tightly. "Pick something," she hears herself say, slightly muffled. Regret chokes her after she speaks the words. She ignores it.

Cassian squeezes her tighter still. "We're going to a grotto."

"A--what?" She's heard the word before. Some sort of underwater cave?

"A grotto. It's beautiful. The moon rises right over it and it lights up the water. The fish reflect it. It's warm. It's beautiful, all right?"

Nesta's quiet for a minute. "All right."

---

Cassian is not supposed to confess his feelings for Nesta--or get close--or accuse her of being self-sabotaging. He's definitely not supposed to let her make him come and then return the favor in her bedroom, until they have a weird one-by-one game going on. But it's happened and he's sick of it. Not sick of Nesta; sick of minding everyone else's stupid rules. Nesta doesn't play by anyone else's rules, so why should he where she is considered? It's not as though Feyre has ever had a strong bond with Nesta--Mother knows Rhys has never given a shit about her personally--so why are the two of them in charge? When he and Nesta clearly have something so precious, so deep?

Not even Nesta's trauma will be getting in the way of this anymore. He can't sit around waiting for her to miraculously be cured. He's got to act. And she told him, inadvertently, that she was ready. Ready for him to help guide her in the right direction, to bring them that time and that second life he promised her. She had kissed him, let him pleasure her, sought ways to cheer him up. So what if Feyre has some specific idea of Nesta becoming some sort of warrior for the Night Court? He's always thought of her as a warrior of words; that was the first thing about her that attracted him.

Not an hour later, they find themselves along the western beaches of the Night Court, marching into a series of caves. Well, Cassian's marching, holding a determinedly-yet-hurriedly made picnic basket. Nesta's dragging herself behind him, their palms firmly clasped together. He won't let her go.

She tenses as they enter the darkness, and he taps his Siphon to let it glow and give them more light. "We're almost there," he tells her, but she says nothing.

He leads her to the grotto, not wasting any time and peeling off his clothes and boots, leaving them on the side of the water, and dives in.

Nesta is too far away from the edge for his liking when emerges. "Water's warm," he tells her.

She looks up to the hole in the ceiling of the cave. The moon isn't yet directly overhead, but the stars twinkle. She sighs, and bends to take off her shoes and roll down her stockings. Pulling her skirt up to her thighs, she lowers her legs into the water.

Cassian holds onto her knees. He could part her legs like this, kiss his way up her thighs, and recreate that perfect religious experience for himself. But now is not the time.

"Beautiful, right?" he asks her, jerking his head to the water.

She glances down at it, following the tiny silver-white fish. "Why are they all that color?"

"They're made for night."

She doesn't say anything, only watches the fish.

He tries again. "There are pearls down here."

"I'm not a strong swimmer."

"I am." He drops before she can reply, following along the underwater walls. They aren't proper pearls, he supposes, since they're embedded in the walls and not from clams, but that doesn't matter. He finds three easily and resurfaces, palm open.

"Pretty," Nesta says softly, picking one up.

He'd give anything to know what she's thinking. He's never envied Rhys so much as this moment.

He drops a kiss on her knee. "Look up. The moon's starting to rise."

She does, and he studies her. The elegant arch of her neck, the steady pulse there. Cassian aches for Nesta's heart--how hard must it be for the poor thing to keep beating, every second, when Nesta does everything she can to get it to stop? But Nesta's body knows what does not: she deserves to live. It fights even when she doesn't.

"Look down," he whispers, when the moon is whole over the roof.

She does, and lets out a small gasp. The water glows, shining like the discarded pearls, as the tiny fish reflect the moonlight back. Little silvery-white flames darting around the water.

"Like you," Cassian can't resist saying.

She meets his eyes, and indeed, that fire is there.

Cassian kisses her knee again. "Come in," he says.

She reaches her hand for his cheek, but before grazing it, she draws it back to take off her dress. In her underthings, she slides in the water, slowly, settling with her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm not a strong swimmer," she says again.

"I am," he repeats.

He treads water for the both of them, Nesta clutching him out of fear, perhaps, but not so horrid that it deters her from gazing around the pool. She lets one hand drop, following along the trail of some of the fish.

"Want to see something incredible? Underwater?"

She looks at him, frowning slightly. "I..."

"I won't let go of you," he promises. "Just for a moment. Just to see."

She hesitates, turning her head to the side. Glancing upwards at the moon, she nods, as she had before--once, slowly.

"All right," he says. "Just hold your breath. We'll go down on three." He counts, bobbing as he does. "One...two...three."

He hears Nesta take a deep breath before they submerge, and feels her fingers latch tightly onto him. He keeps his gaze on her as they go down, eager to see her reaction.

She doesn't disappoint. Beautiful grey eyes wide underwater, drinking in the sight. The glow of the fish is nothing short of magical, reflecting the moon and, underwater, bouncing it back towards the pearls.

"Whoa," she says, as he raises them to the surface.

He laughs. "Beautiful, right? Want to see it again?"

She nods, not hesitating this time. They go again. And again. And again.

The fourth time they emerge, Nesta says, "I wish I could stay down there for longer."

He knows she doesn't mean just a few seconds. "I don't. There's a lot of beautiful things in the world. I don't want just one with you."

She loosens her grip on him, but keeps their chests flushed. "What did Feyre and Rhysand say?"

Cassian doesn't break their gaze. "They have a very certain idea of how all this is supposed to go."

"All this being me."

"I don't care," he says, confirming but not dwelling. "They're wrong. I'm changing tactics."

"To?"

He picks his hand out of the water to gesture to them, around them. "We'll just focus on the good for now. There's plenty of time to deal with the pain. We will. I swear to gods we will, Nesta. But it's wrong to dictate what kind of joy you get to feel. And counterproductive, anyway. You're allowed to explore. To decide for yourself...I mean, I won't let you hurt yourself anymore. But if you don't want to heal with training--I mean, if that's not what you want, fine. Or just some of the time. Fine. And the library. Fine. It was a stupid bluff. I swear we didn't mean it. But it was stupid. You should...just because you've made some wrong choices doesn't mean you never get to decide anything for yourself again.

"I don't want to overwhelm you," he continues. She looks at him intently, considering his words carefully. "So we won't fix everything tonight. Or tomorrow. But we'll work on it. And we'll do that...however you want. As long as it's not something you're doing to punish yourself. And I hope you can understand why I don't fully trust you to be the judge of that for yourself...and I hope that you trust me to--to be that judge."

He holds his breath. More painful than being underwater, though Nesta, of course, provides far more beauty than anything under the sea.

"What if I choose something that we disagree on?" she asks finally.

"I hope you trust me," he says simply. "I won't make you come out if you want to be alone to rest, but I will if I think you're just going to berate yourself. Deny yourself happiness. I know you do that, Nesta."

"For how long?" she asks.

"For...as long as you want me."

Forever, he wants to say, for there isn't a deadline on this. There's no point where Nesta will be diagnosed "cured" and be allowed to do whatever she pleases whenever. She'll always struggle with this. Who knows what'll happen in the future to make her demons come roaring at her? So he'll be there. For all of it. So long as she lets him, he'll be there.

"And are my sister and Rhysand your judges?"

"They can say what they want," Cassian says. "I promise it won't affect me. I won't let it affect this."

She's quiet for a minute. Longer. She doesn't draw her arms away from him, but drops her gaze to the water.

Finally, she says, "You're asking for a lot."

He's so proud of her he thinks he might burst. Sharing with him, slowly, but real progress. More than anything Rhysand's stupid plan had wrought. Because this is meeting Nesta where she is, not forcing her along some path that might've worked for someone else.

"I know," he says. "But I meant what I said."

Under the water, he feels her legs touch his. Rising, dragging along him, they wrap around his waist. Nesta brings her hands to his face, leans in, and kisses him softly.

"You said we'd do something enjoyable tonight," she whispers, hands going to undo the laces of her underthings.

He moves them forward, pushing her against the wall of the cave. "Yes," he says.

They make quick work of themselves, their remaining clothes tossed onto the floor of the cave. Cassian kisses her deeply, slowly, hands firmly at her waist. Nesta allows herself more movement, trailing her fingers along his arms, his back, shoulders, his hair.

It is she who breaks their kiss first. "We can go slowly," she says, whispering.

"We'll stop," he affirms, but she shakes her head.

"No, I mean, yes. I trust you. We can go slowly. But I want...this." She presses a hand over his heart. "I need--I need--"

He kisses her chastely. "I understand," he says, for he does. He needs it too. "To feel you. To feel alive."

"Yes."

"And...you can feel it, can't you? How much I care about you? When I...?" He finishes his sentence not with a word, but with a kiss at her neck.

She exhales deeply. "Yes."

He bends his head towards her breasts, careful to keep his hands at her waist so she doesn't need to fear falling. She leans back as much as she can, resting her head on the floor of the cave. He kisses her skin softly, gently, ignoring his wild desire to learn every inch of her. There'll be time for that. They're going slowly tonight.

But Nesta can feel his desire very clearly against herself, and she presses into him. Bringing her hands up to his head, keeping his head pressed against her breasts as he leaves light kisses upon them, she whispers, "Can you feel it? How I..."

He raises his head. "Yes," he says, smiling at her. Her lips quirk, then with a huff of laughter, she smiles too.

It's all right if she's nervous. If there are things she wants to say and can't yet. They'll get there. But it doesn't have to be a painful journey.

"Come here," he says, squeezing her waist, and she lifts herself back up, hands wrapping tightly around his shoulders. "Hold onto me," he says, though she already is.

"Yes," she says, clutching him tighter. "Yes," she says again, when he pushes gently at her leg with her palm to allow himself to slide into her.

Nesta's nails dig into his back.

"Slowly," he says to her.

She exhales through her nose. He inches inside her. Slowly, slowly, until they are one, leaning against the cave's wall and floor for support, the grotto's water shining around them. Something shines inside Cassian, too, stronger than the moonlight.

He holds onto her waist as he begins to move, and she tightens her grip as she does, too. Raising herself in small circles, the ripples of her movement crashing against Cassian's in little waves.

"I can feel it and I know you can too."

"I know, sweetheart," he says, and both of them are whispering, unable to disturb the perfection of the moment.

Nesta's perfect for him, and the part of him that is wild to have her, consume her completely, is very easily ignored by the part of him more concerned with this, now, their commitment, her trust, and building onwards. Slowly, slowly, like the way he moves inside of her.

"I've never," she says, gasping a little. "Oh, yes, oh."

For he has maneuvered them, pushing them harder against the wall, to allow himself movement of hand to slide in between them, in between her folds, and find her clit.

"Yes," she says again. "That."

He laughs. "That?"

"Yes."

She issues little commands here and there, and he is only too happy to oblige. Again, faster, just like that.

She comes as beautifully as she had last time, mouth parting and breasts heaving slightly. She tightens upon him, not stopping her movements as she does, and he follows her quickly after. When he pulls out of her, he is ready to pick her up out of the water and lay her on the ground, and make good of a safe, horizontal surface, but...slowly. That's what they want.

So he holds her close to him. There, in the water, as the moon moves towards the other half of the sky.

"What did you say?" he asks, remembering.

"Hm?"

He grins against her head, relishing in how deliriously peaceful she sounds. "You said you had never...something."

"Oh." She doesn't pull her face off his shoulder. "I...had never...enjoyed this. Before. With...others."

Cassian tenses. He could rage against those males. He could press her into sharing why she had ever touched them if she didn't like it. He could demand to know why she had been so stubborn and not come to him, why she had rejected him, when she obviously knew that she wasn't enjoying her company with anyone else.

But he only kisses the top of her head. "You're the most perfect person I've ever been with, too," he says, instead.

The word choice proves its benefits immediately. Nesta relaxes against him, tilting her head to kiss his shoulder. Putting them on equal footing, he's calmed her, erased her shame and guilt for the moment. She'll share when she's ready. He's given her proof of his patience, of his willingness to listen. For now, they'll just be together. He'll be waiting when she's ready.

"What's in the basket?" she asks.

He laughs. "I thought we'd have a midnight snack."

"Did you bring any towels?"

"No," he admits, breaking their embrace slightly to look at her raised eyebrow. "Sorry. I was rushed."

He helps her out of the water. She sits against on the floor as she had earlier, legs dangling in, only now, she is completely bare.

"I changed my mind," Cassian says, pushing himself out of the water and cupping her breast with his hand. "I'm not sorry at all."

She rolls her eyes, but doesn't wave him away. "I'm cold."

"I have an excellent way to warm you up."

"I'll bet you do," she says, rolling her eyes again.

But he only reaches over for the picnic basket. "I brought tea. You read way too much smut."

Nesta blinks down at the thermos cap Cassian offers her. Then she laughs. Real, joyous laughter. Cassian almost drops the cup.

"What else did you bring?" she asks him as she accepts it, peering at the basket.

"Are you hungry?" he asks brightly. She's been eating better, but she still has a ways to go. "I have muffins." Lemon blueberry. The kind she had watched him eat once. He doesn't even know if she likes them. "And cheese. And fruit."

She gives him a smile. "Nearly perfect. Don't forget the towels next time."

Cassian's heart skips a beat. "It's not forgetting if you do it on purpose."

She laughs again. Really laughs.

Legs in the water, they sit there, eating their snacks and drinking tea, till the night turns dark enough that the fish scatter out of the grotto, into the sea.

"I'm worried," Nesta says suddenly, "that we'll go back to the House and this will--disappear."

Cassian thinks for a moment. Then he reaches over, picking up the three pearls he had taken out of the underwater walls. "We'll carry it with us," he promises. "We'll build it everywhere we go."

He drops them, one by one, in her hand. She stares at them long after her fist has closed around them.

"I trust you," she says softly.

"I trust you too," he answers, and that makes her look up, eyes shining in a way that is wholly different than the fire he loves so much.

"Really?" she asks, cracking his heart in two.

"Yes," he says firmly. Yes, he does trust her. Even though he knows she'll make more mistakes, that there'll be another time in the future where she pulls away, to hide herself, to hurt herself--he still trusts her. Even then, he will.

She opens her hand, studying the pearls. Not looking up, she says, "This beats my fake massage."

He laughs at the unexpected statement. "What do you mean?"

"I lied. I don't know anything about massages. I've never had one. Never given one."

"Really?" he asks, impressed. "Fooled me."

At this, she looks up, lips quirking. "It's the rage."

He smiles too. "I've never minded the rage." He leans in, placing one hand on her thigh, the other on her cheek. "I love the rage. It's only the pain we need to leave behind."

She nods, not slow or nervous. He kisses her again.

Hours later, he wakes. Nesta sleeps at his side. He smiles down at her, moving quietly out of the bed. She can join him for training if she likes, but she doesn't have to. He guesses she will, sometimes, but not every day, and not in the mornings.

There will be shouting matches over this later. No one can rest while Nesta sits trapped in her own misery, and everyone has their own way to pull her out. But the only way is hers, and if Cassian's the only person willing to realize that, then he will be the only one privileged to reap the benefits.

He won't be. Who can resist Nesta?

Not her sisters. Not Amren. Not Rhys, once he sees how everyone he loves loves her. Az is taken with her too, now, and even Mor can't seem to stay away, can she?

This space to feel joy is more important than acknowledging her pain. Nesta is not the type to acknowledge her pain. She'll simply burrow in it deeper, numbing herself to everything.

This is how they get her back. He knows it. He can feel it.

He grins to himself as he hears her walk up the stairs to the roof, just past sunrise.

He knew it.

Not healed overnight, but willing to try. To trust herself and him.

"Sleep well?" he asks her as she appears.

"I want to try punching," she responds. "I heard I'd be good at it."

He grins. "You will."

---

hope you enjoyed! if you did you are legally required to read my wattpad story. (not actually but it's fun and is updated on tuesdays and fridays.)

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf fic #acotar fic #i hate tagssssss #dadrie i hope you like this #lol it was supposed to be a few hundred words #it's literally 5k #wow how come i can sit down and write 5k of fic and i can never do that with a paper??

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flower-cage · 3 years

Text

Santa, baby

Tom Holland x Reader | smut (18+ only)

Summary: A tough week of classes has made you tense and stressed. There’s really only one thing that can help you let go and relax.

Words: 7.5k lmao it’s just smut

Warnings: filthy explicit sexual content, unprotected oral sex, slut shaming/degradation kink, rough oral sex, rough sex, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, slight dom/sub dynamics, very light spanking, too many pet names

A/N: lmao not me posting xmas smut in April. you’re welcome and i’m sorry.

Loosely based on this prompt:

If you're up for straight smut, how about a Frat Tom Christmas party oneshot? He is wearing something sexy and his muscles are bulging (and maybe something else is bulging too). You can do it how you want, but for the smut, I'm just hoping for Tom getting a BJ from y/n, who normally hates him, and he's super dominant and controlling and maybe he even gets her to worship his muscles and such. Like I said, straight up smut lol

You opened the luxurious wooden door bravely and stepped into the warm, humid living room of the fraternity house. The nauseating smells of party juice and cheap beer filled your nostrils and the deafening bass of whatever rap song was a big hit right now hurt your ears. You held in a scornful grimace as cold, instant regret washed over you. You didn’t have enough time to question whether it was too late to turn back because right then you were shoved inside by your friends. Or, more accurately, your friend’s friends.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Courtney had pleaded earlier that day, “It’s the last time we can hang out before we all go home for winter break!”

You sighed deeply. You had had your last final of the semester that very day. Two papers, two presentations, and a final in one week. You just wanted to stay home, drink a glass of rosé in the bathtub, and go to sleep before ten. But you could never hold your own when it came to Courtney. You knew it in your heart that you had already caved, even though you kept making arguments.

“I saw you two days ago,” you reasoned.

“Y/N, it’ll be fun! It’s a great way to de-stress after finals!” She shrieked.

It’ll be fun. Please. There was nothing fun about being in a house crowded with gross, conceited white boys and Courtney and her sorority sisters. You loved your friend, truly, but whenever you went out with the girls from her house, you would spend hours listening to them talk about things you had zero interest in and then end up the night by yourself in the kitchen, sober. One by one, they would leave to go to the bathroom, talk to a friend on the other side of the room, go get more seltzers, or hit it up with someone new. And then they would never come back.

“You’re going,” she had decided. And you hadn’t argued further. But you took your car this time around so you could leave whenever you felt like it. And you already felt like it.

Too soon you were attached to a chain of women that led you first to the kitchen for White Claws, then to the middle of a makeshift dancefloor. And like you had predicted, the next half hour teemed with conversations about people you didn’t recognize, nights you hadn’t experienced, and singing along to songs whose lyrics you hadn’t learned. And then, one by one - or in pairs - they all scattered around the house to form other groups of conversation you couldn’t follow.

You wandered to a quieter corner of the house, leaned against the wall across from a small hallway that led to a room used for beer pong. You could barely see one end of the game table as it was surrounded by college students.

You took your private little moment to look around the house and notice the decorations properly for the first time. They had a large tree in the corner… ornated with empty beer cans. Lovely. Mistletoe hung all over the ceiling. Smart. And along the walls, there were pictures of the fraternity’s members in tight and revealing Santa costumes. A little gross but, okay, funny. Your attention was brought back to the beer pong room by loud, rambunctious cheering. And that’s when you saw him.

Tom freaking Holland. You became cold with the surprise of seeing him, and immediately afterward hot with anger. You saw his stupid, smug face as he trash-talked the opponent team. He had a stupid little Santa hat on his head and what looked to be a stupid Christmas costume on his tight, ripped body. You couldn’t quite see the entire ensemble as he stood behind a few people. But you felt yourself grow hot at entirely new places when he locked his defined jaw as the other team scored. He looked away from the game, then, and made direct eye contact with you. His eyebrows rose quickly and just as fast a smug grin settled on his lips.

You didn’t dare break the connection of your gazes, refusing to be the first one to back out. No, you stared straight ahead, cold and steady, as he excused himself and weaved through the crowd to head your way. Against your chest, your heart thumped rapidly.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed as he stopped just before you, removing his Santa hat and throwing it on a table. You instinctively tried to move a step back, only to be met with a wall. You thought you must have shifted away from it at some point. You leaned against it.

“Thomas,” you greeted dryly.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.” He ignored the sourness in your voice and kept that grin on his stupid, stupid handsome face. He raked his eyes up and down your body like it was all his to look at. He had a proud grin on his lips now.

“I wasn’t aware I had to.”

“Why are you so frustrated today?” He asked. Still grinning, looking down at you as you now avoided looking into his eyes.

At his proximity, you were flooded with the scent of the cologne he always wore. The one you knew so well.

“That would be because you frustrate me,” you grunted between gritted teeth. You shot him an icy glare that did nothing to dampen his sly smirk. It was like he liked knowing he could get under your skin. Like he liked knowing you wanted so bad to yell at him and slap his stupid face. Almost as much as you wanted him to pin you down and take your mouth like it belonged to him.

“No,” he murmured, inching closer, “it’s different today. What’s wrong, hm?”

You looked him in the eyes again. There it was. The way he switched back and forth between being so fucking cocky, so fucking conceited, and genuinely caring. It threw you off every single time. You wanted to remain angry, but his worried eyes and his warm voice melted your resolve too easily.

“I had a tough week,” you whispered, finally looking away.

You felt his left hand land on the wall next to your head as he propped himself closer to you. Your heart jumped again but you refused to let him see what he did to you. You gasped when you felt his fingers grasp your chin gently and turn your attention back to him. God, he was really close now.

“Sounds like you could use with someone to fix you up,” he purred. His eyes were trained on your lips and you had to fight the urge to lean in. Instead, you scoffed and slapped his hand off your face, making him smile. Again.

“I can take good care of myself, thank you very much,” you barked out and looked away once again. You crossed your arms firmly to resist pressing your hands against his strong chest.

In the blink of an eye, Tom pressed said chest against you. Your hands quickly came to rest on his abdomen to have some semblance of distance between your bodies. Your fingers trembled with the need to be under his shirt. A gasp broke through your lips, goosebumps emerged on the skin of your neck and sparks descended down your body, lighting up arousal in your core. He had placed his lips very lightly against the curve of your jaw, right under your earlobe.

“You don’t have to pretend for me,” he murmured lowly against your skin. “I know you want me.” He pecked the corner of your jaw and your hands clenched on his shirt. “I know you like the way I make you feel like a fucking slut behind closed doors.”

Tom latched his mouth onto your neck and sucked. You whimpered. Your eyes fluttered closed and he didn’t relent. He didn’t move either. Kept swirling his tongue, moving his lips and nibbling onto that same spot. It was just next to the spot that would have your knees wobbling. And he knew exactly where that was.

“Tom…” You breathed out, annoyed. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly against Tom’s stoic one.

“You know how this works,” he grabbed your chin and forced you to look straight into his eyes. “If you want something, you swallow your fucking pride,” he said menacingly, slowly “and you ask for it. Nicely.”

You felt your resolve melt away by the second. His grip on your chin redirected your whole attention. All your senses focused on him and all the noise and people around you faded into the background. You couldn’t look anywhere else but his eyes as he waited for your reaction.

“Tom…” you mumbled. You let your head fall backward slightly, exposing your neck to him. “Please.”

He latched his lips where you wanted him to. Sucked and nibbled on your sensitive skin the way you liked it, making your eyes roll back and your lips fall apart on a soft moan. You coursed your fingers through his hair and held on tight as you struggled not to twitch against his body.

He then left your neck to capture your lips, circled his arms around you and held you tightly, ran his hands over your back, and squeezed your waist. And your knees buckled under each stroke of his tongue, each contraction of his strong muscles encircling you. You pulled on his curls to have him moaning against you and he reached down past your hips, squeezed and massaged your ass to have you do the same. Electrifying waves of pleasure coursed through your body from every point of contact and steadily drove you to a hazy state of arousal.

The feel of his tight body against you had you aching to touch. You wanted him. Bad. But there was no way you were about to admit that and give him the satisfaction. No way. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a bit of fun.

You slid your hands away from his hair and let them graze over the sides of his face, his jaw, his neck. Tom moaned into your mouth, stirring your confidence to keep going, to keep touching him. You squeezed his shoulders before slowly sliding your fingers down his chest. He was so fucking fit. Your mind flooded with images of your last time together as your fingertips rekindled with the shape of his body. Your fingers twitched and flexed on him as you visualized the way his muscular torso had contracted when he had thrust into you steadily, confidently. You wanted to rip his shirt open and feel him properly. And you probably would have if you didn’t know how badly that would have inflated his fucking ego.

But then his warm hands slid further down and under your skirt to grasp at your bare skin and your entire willpower melted away. In a desperate moan, you ran your hands all over his torso, felt up the nice, hard curves of his abs unashamedly. He kissed you with renewed passion, squeezed your supple flesh with wanton, each time eliciting your arousal to drip down and onto your underwear.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted as he broke away from your lips, “look how hard you got me.”

You glanced down between your bodies and saw his hardened shaft straining against his tiny, red Santa shorts. He was just as thick and long as you remembered. His flushed head poked hard against the waistband, slipping out and leaking under his shirt for sure. He was so engorged that you could see where the shaft shaped into his thick tip perfectly. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, struggled not to drool. You wanted to taste him, touch him, suck him dry. You wanted to sit on it too, take him in deep and come on it all night.

“You want it, don’t you, baby?” Tom teased. He resumed his treatment of your backside, pulling on your cheeks roughly to separate your weepy pussy lips and excite you. Your eyes fluttered closed; your knees went weak.

“Ask for it.”

You breathed raggedly, chest rising and falling as you tried to process your overwhelming want. You didn’t want to play games anymore. You just wanted to feel good. You cradled his jaw with both hands and pulled him into a sensual, needy kiss. Your right leg came up to rest on his hip and he immediately ran his hand up and down it once, settling on the crook of your knee.

“Tommy,” you whined against his lips, “give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He breathed. You could tell he was just as desperate for you. “You want it?”

Tom then ground his erection against where you wanted him the most, and you dropped your head forward and moaned on his shoulder. Your blood rushed down to your pussy and it throbbed in arousal. Your ears rang in pleasure and your mind clouded over.

“Yes,” you gasped while he continued to grind against you slowly, “Want it.”

In a second his touch was gone, and you were cold. And he pulled you by the hand hastily and guided you up the stairs and down the hall you were familiar with. He stopped in front of a door and pulled you to his chest, took your mouth in his again, and pushed you inside. When he turned the light on and slammed you against a hard surface you realized he had brought you to his bathroom.

“Why don’t we just go to your bedroom?”

He glanced at you with his signature smirk on his lips. He dimmed the lights and you felt the heat rise from the stone floors as they warmed up. You glanced around the bathroom, saw the white stone on the floor and the walls, the big mirror behind you, and the silver linings on the shower, and decided it wouldn’t be too bad to get nasty right there.

Tom walked up to you, grasped your chin, and towered over you. His eyes were dark and determined, his touch demanding.

“Sluts get fucked in the bathroom, love,” he said sweetly.

Somehow, the gentleness in his voice made those the most prepotent words he had said thus far. Your breath got caught in your throat and only came back to you once he let go of your face and took a half step back. He looked at you with his chin held high. And that fucking smug smile. You held on to the counter behind you tighter, trapped in the confusing emotional battle between desire and irritation. You held on and bit down on your bottom lip as he brought his fingers up to the top button of his red shirt. You wouldn’t have looked away from that for a second if it hadn’t been for a chuckle.

“Look at you,” he said as he moved on to the next button slowly, teasingly. “You’re practically drooling. Like a proper slut as soon as I close the door.”

“You think I don’t know you think I’m fit?” He moved his fingers down as they popped open the third button on his shirt. You traced the movement with your eyes and felt arousal buzz through your core when the lines of his chest became visible. Embarrassment and indignation left you to be replaced with raw want as he proceeded to undress and taunt you.

“You think I don’t know you’re just itching for a taste?”

“You act all proper and collected in front of everyone,” he continued, “You act like you’re too strong, too smart of a woman to fall for a guy like me.”

Your mouth fell open unconsciously when the first bump of an ab muscle came into view. You did want a taste. You had to focus all your energy on grounding yourself at that moment. You willed your hands to hold on and your knees not to buckle and bring you down before him.

“But we both know you’re making a fucking mess in your knickers right now,” he unbuttoned the second to last button of his shirt, “because I’m fucking hot shit,” he popped open the last button and let his shirt hang open, “and you fucking know it.”

You inhaled sharply through your parted lips. His flushed, red tip was pressing against his stomach, wetting the skin under his belly button deliciously. You wanted to lick it clean, run your hands over his bulging muscles, get down on your knees and suck him off. Then hold on to his biceps as he railed you against the sink.

No more games.

“Tom,” you whispered seductively, glancing up at him from under your lashes, “please, let me blow you.”

His smirk widened devilishly. He caged you in between his arms when he supported his weight on the counter behind you and glanced down in between your bodies.

“What?” He chuckled, “Just like that? You know you have to work for it.”

You bit your lip and took a breath to smother down the humiliation that threatened to warm your cheeks. Maintaining eye contact, you wrapped your fingers around his wrists. You ran your hands up his arms slowly, enjoying the curves of his muscles and the soft feel of his skin.

“I do think you’re fit,” you leaned in and whispered against his lips. “I think you’re really fit. I don’t like saying it because I think you’re way too cocky for your own good,” your hands curled over his shoulders, over his shirt that still hung open on his arms. Your fingers tingled as you felt the strength of his collarbones, his thick neck. And then you buried them in his curls. You watched him soften when you ran your nails against his scalp.

“But I love how strong you are,” you continued and placed teasing, wet kisses to his bottom lip. You could tell he was loving the attention and, for once, you didn’t find it annoying. You slid down his jaw and his neck and felt his breathing become increasingly ragged when you raked your sharp nails down his muscular chest and thorax, your lips following suit. “And I really want to suck you off.”

“Please?”

“Fucking hell,” Tom spat out.

He pushed himself fully upright and quickly dropped his shorts, revealing his large, flushed member right in front of your face. You gawked at it as he grasped himself and started to stroke. Right. In front. Of you. You watched him leak down his hand and whined unconsciously because he wasn’t leaking on your tongue.

“You fucking slut,” he moaned. “Never seen anyone want cock this bad.” He grabbed your jaw with his free hand and angled his member towards your parted lips.

“There you go,” he cooed and placed his wet tip on your tongue. You immediately closed your lips around him and sucked. And then you couldn’t stop. You moved your head and tightened your cheeks around his smooth head, swirled your tongue, and moaned every time he dripped onto your mouth. Above you, Tom cursed and stroked himself harder.

“I know I’m big, Y/N” he grunted and slowed down the movements of his hand, “But you can handle a bit more, c’mon.” He inched himself further into your mouth until you felt him bump against your throat, then he pulled back and thrust in a little quicker.

He was right - he was big. He was so big you could barely swallow half of him. He was so thick you could barely hollow your cheeks around him and suck properly. When he fucked you, no matter how wet and worked up you were, he always left you feeling deliciously sore the next day. When he fucked you, it was always just short of painful and it drove you absolutely delirious with pleasure.

You moaned as your own mind drifted to filthy thoughts and the resulting vibrations on Tom’s cock made him curse and thrust faster. He now had both hands on your head as he used your mouth as he pleased. Your chin was dripping with saliva, your mouth felt raw and it was hard to breathe.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tom grunted. “I’m not gonna last.” He brushed the hair sticking to your face backward and used it to leverage the quick movements of his hips. “I’m gonna dump my load down your throat,” he groaned, “and then I’m gonna rail you against this sink, baby.”

You inhaled sharply at his words and decided to speed up the process. You were soaking right through your knickers at this point, your thighs glided against one another because of your arousal and you wanted desperately to be railed against that sink.

With one hand you took over the portion of his shaft that you couldn’t swallow and stroked tightly, swiftly. With the other you cupped and massaged his balls, drawing a loud moan from him. And then it was a matter of seconds for him to blow it like he said he would. He groaned long and loud. The grip on your hair tightened painfully and he held you in place, made you take all of his hot come. And you did.

“Oh… my God,” you heard Tom chuckle when he was finished. He slipped out of your spent mouth soon after. Your jaw hurt so much you just let it hang open and tried to catch your breath, holding on to his bare thighs. “That was so fucking good.”

You glanced up to see him smiling in satisfaction. He had his eyes closed and he ran a hand through the curls you had messed up earlier when you were grinding against the wall. When he licked his lips and looked down at you again the pain in your jaw dissipated as you became more aware of the throbbing arousal leaking down and under your mini skirt.

“Tom…” You pleaded. He had enticed you so well you were afraid you were just a few touches away from begging for it. Just like he wanted. Like he always wanted and like he always got. He knew what you needed. Knew how to break down your resolve, bring you down and pleasure you, make you forget your troubles, and just… feel good.

“I know, I know,” he said patronizingly, bent down, and picked you up to place you on the counter in front of him. He stepped in between your legs and cupped your jaw with both of his warm soft hands and kissed you fervently. You melted at the touch of his fingers and the strokes of his greedy tongue, whining wantonly and breathing hard. In a heartbeat, you entangled in yet another heated and sensual make-out. Each touch and stroke and squeeze lit up your skin in absolute pleasure. With your eyes closed, with his tongue on yours and your hands running along his chest and shoulders, your senses were overpowered by him. There was only him. Again. Nothing else had your attention but the sensations he sparked in you.

He ran a hand up your thigh and under your skirt slowly, squeezed your flesh, and pulled you flush against him. With his other hand, he cupped your breasts and massaged them, one at a time. He circled his thumbs around your nipples, over your shirt, and all you could do was let your head fall back and try not to choke in your own breaths. Tom seized the opportunity to suck wet kisses down your neck, along your collarbones. He quickly unbuttoned your shirt, tugged it off your arms, and trailed his lips and tongue along the seam of your lacy bra. He inched closer and closer to where you really wanted him and when he pulled down the lace and wrapped his lips around your nipple, you cried out and squeezed him firmly with your thighs.

“Tom,” you gasped once again, implored for him, for something, anything.

“I got you, baby,” he mumbled against your skin. He licked over your hardened bud and sucked it between his lips way too slowly to release any sort of tension. “I’m gonna give you exactly what you need.”

He seized your lips in his, kissed you with fervor yet again, and sucked on your bottom lip when he pulled away. He stayed close so your lips still grazed his.

“How’s my pussy?” He purred. You felt his fingers creep up your thigh beneath your skirt and inhaled sharply, your heart stopping for a second. “Did you get it wet for me?”

You nodded desperately as he cupped you through your wet panties. His words were driving you insane at the same rate as his touch.

“Yeah, you did,” he breathed out. “What a mess…”

He slowly hooked a finger over the waistband of your underwear and pulled it down your thighs, over your bent knees, and down your ankles, until it reached the floor. He kicked them to the side. He never stopped looking into your scared orbs through half-closed lids. Not when his fingertips made light contact with your wet, sensitive clit. Not when your mouth fell open or when your legs twitched in response. And you didn’t dare break eye contact either, staring right back into his dark eyes. With two fingers he slowly drew circles around your aroused nub.

“I think,” he murmured, drawing it out to match the languid caress on your core. The anticipation that hung between you as your gazes remained locked had you holding your breath, “I want a taste.” You exhaled finally. “You think my pussy wants a kiss?” He purred against your parted lips. You couldn’t do more than nod rapidly. Your desperation brought a smirk to his lips.

“I think so, too,” he said before dropping to his knees and spreading your legs wide so that your skirt bunched up around your hips and your soaking inner lips exposed your opening to him.

“Pretty little thing,” he groaned from behind gritted teeth. His grip on your knees tightened when he leaned forward to attach his lips to your clit. He kissed it, massaged it with his puckered lips, and then ran his warm tongue along your dripping slit and all the way back to your clit. “Pretty, messy little thing.”

“Aaahh,” you cried out and sunk your fingers in his hair when he proceeded to make out with your hot sex. Tears welled up in your eyes and clouded your vision. The pleasure was too intense already, a result of the long period of anticipation that you had endured.

“Tom! Please, I’m gonna come!” You positively yelled. And then he let go of you completely. The abrupt lack of contact had you let out a choked sob, tears now dangerously close to spilling out. You shut your eyes and concentrated on calming yourself down, settling down your breathing that was burning your chest with how ragged it was.

“Shh,” you heard Tom shushing you. He was petting your thighs to help distract you from your burning, frustrating arousal. When you opened your eyes, you realized a few tears had indeed slipped out. Tom was looking at you hungrily and you could imagine why: tears running down your face, pupils dilated, lips still swollen from giving rough head, and your tits hanging over the seam of your bra.

“Shh, you’re fine,” Tom cooed, cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples with featherlight brushes of his thumbs. “I’m gonna make you come; I promise. But you know what you have to do first.”

He let go of you and took a hold of himself instead. He had gotten hard not long after coming down your throat and now his member looked positively flushed. He stroked his erection a few times and slid on a condom. You watched every movement closely, yearning to have him slide inside you. You looked up into his eyes again and placed your hands on his shoulders. You gathered all your energy to focus on rescuing your coherence, on what you were going to say next. If only for that one moment.

“Tom, please,” you murmured timidly, “put me on your cock,” you saw his chest rise and fall without rhythm at your words. “Make me come.”

This time he didn’t make you wait for his next move. You felt his engorged head being placed right at your entrance, just barely between your inner lips. He then hooked his arms under your spread knees and gripped your hips tightly. Just like that, he pulled you closer, off the counter, and down his thick cock.

Every inch he gave you stretched you a little more. You were incredibly soaked like you never had been before. But he was so thick that he still managed to press against and all around your walls just right. You didn’t even attempt to restrain the little high-pitched gasps that tumbled out your lips - you knew it turned him on to know he was pleasuring you. And, by God, was he. Slowly but surely, he sank you down his cock, making sure to drive you insane with that initial long, torturous stroke. When he sat you down on his hips entirely and you felt him poke your cervix, you yelped.

“There you go,” he grunted, “there you go, baby.”

Again, your eyes were swarmed with tears from pure, maddening pleasure. Your breathing had your chest moving up and down rapidly. When he was all the way inside you like this, he touched everywhere you needed him to. The pressure on your spot was just short of painful and overwhelmingly delectable. You held onto his shoulders for dear life as your legs trembled in his arms. Through your clouded vision, you saw his smug face. He had his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth and his jaw clenched tight, jutting out the veins on his neck. But he looked smug. He loved seeing you slowly let go of your pride and surrender to your desires as he touched you, kissed you, pleasured you.

“Tom,” you gasped. You could feel him twitch inside you every few seconds while he kept you still and at his mercy. “I’m not gonna last at all,” you whimpered, “I’m gonna come as soon as you move.” You tucked your head into his neck and gripped him tighter in an attempt to ground yourself.

“That’s alright, Y/N/N,” he murmured, “Let’s take that edge off and then we can have some more fun, yeah?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. His hungry hold on your hips descended to your plump cheeks. When he pulled them apart, you gasped. And then your gasp turned into a stream of loud, desperate cries as Tom abruptly pulled back and proceeded to slam his member deep into your throbbing cunt. Immediately his pace was unforgiving. He burned his way in and out of your tight passage and smashed his tip into your sweet spot, each time bringing you so much pleasure you thought you were going to blackout. His pelvis slapped against your pussy lips and ground against your clit and all of the sensations combined triggered tears to run freely down your cheeks.

If you weren’t so overwhelmed with arousal you would have been embarrassed at being so loud, and impressed at Tom for holding you up and giving it to you that hard.

“Ohh, Toooom!” You wailed, cried, and held onto him with all your might, pulling on his curls and gripping his back and his shoulders. “Please, don’t stop! Don’t stop, don- Oh! Oh, yes, yes, yes!”

You screamed when Tom continued to ram your dripping pussy furiously and you clenched and creamed all over him. Your peak hit you like a bullet, fast and burning hot. You choked on your breath and you could have sworn you felt your pupils dilate. The shocking waves of pleasure that Tom fucked out of you finally silenced your screams. You let go completely, relying all your weight on him and now quietly crying against his neck. Your pussy convulsed weakly on his shaft and you let out a sob as you realized you were not yet fully sated.

Tom placed you on the counter again. He took your warm face in his hands and helped you brush your hair away. You kept your hands on his shoulders to support yourself. You were already completely knocked out.

“What’s wrong?” He smiled complacently. “Hm? Why are you crying?” He thumbed away some tears that rolled down your cheeks. “Did I not give you what you wanted?” His thumb grazed over your bottom lip and you took it in between your lips, started sucking appreciatively. He played with your tongue for a little bit before retracting his finger entirely. “Tell me.”

“You did… But I’m still so horny,” you whimpered quietly. Your body was almost numb, tired. It had given itself up to him entirely. Your mind felt quite the same way, to the point that speaking at all was a great mental effort.

“Of course you are,” Tom said softly and slid his tongue into your mouth to move it against your own. “You’re a fucking slut,” he continued between sloppy kisses, “with a greedy pussy.”

He teased your tongue with his, sucked on your lips languidly, and you let him do as he pleased. He ran his warm hands down your torso, gripped your hips, and pulled you back to the ground. Your legs wouldn’t have held you steadily if he had let go of you, but he didn’t. He broke off from your lips and turned you around, bending you over the cold bathroom counter so that your toes barely grazed the floor. You didn’t try to hold yourself onto your elbows either, just placed your forehead against your folded arms and waited for his next move in silence.

You hummed when you felt his hands run over the expanse of your back, warming your skin in their path. He unclasped your bra and its straps, pulled your tight skirt down your legs slowly to leave you bare to his eager eyes. A few heartbeats later you felt a hand pull on your cheek and expose your cunt to the cold air that surrounded you. Simultaneously you heard wet, slapping sounds that had you clenching around nothing at all. Your breathing picked up as you imagined him stroking himself while watching your pussy twitch and drip.

Then, you felt his tip brush against the lower curve of your bottom. You thought he was going to slide right in and end your misery, but instead, his hand came around your throat and his chest came down to meet your back. He lifted your head like that and when you opened your eyes, you met his gaze on the mirror in front of you.

“Still with me?” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “You still want it?” You nodded your consent weakly and holding your gaze confidently, Tom guided himself within the swollen lips between your legs.

Lazily he pushed in against any resistance, making your walls flutter rapidly and your mouth hang open. You held his gaze and watched as his eyes turned dark. His pupils dilated and his lips parted like your own as he sank into you.

By the time he was buried inside you as far as he could go, your eyes had shut and your legs had resumed trembling in arousal. He rose to rest his weight on his hands and with the grip on your throat pulled you up to do the same. But when he pulled back slightly and rolled his hips forward slowly, you shivered and fell right back down. You whimpered quietly as he continued to tease and torture your insides with languid, deep strokes. You redirected your dimming mental strength to breathing, the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you sane.

A few more strokes in that same rhythm had you used to the teasing enough that you could raise your head from your arms. Tom had been unusually quiet for the past couple of minutes, you realized. You looked at his reflection to find him staring down at where your bodies came together every other second. He bit his bottom lip tightly and held on to your soft hips, laser-focused on giving it to you. You moaned at the thought of what he was looking at: his flushed member pushing in and out of your soaking wet lips, such a tight fit that your aroused pooled all around him like a glistening white ring every time he pushed back inside.

Your noise elicited him to look up and meet your eyes in the mirror once again, and when he did, he smiled devilishly. He dropped a harsh slap to your cheek, making you gasp in surprise. The second and third subsequent ones had you whimpering for more. And then your eyes rolled back, and your mouth hung open on a loud gasp when Tom finally, finally picked up the pace.

He used his grip on your hips to throw you against his cock again and again, fast and easy like you weighted nothing. The squelching noises your bodies made, your skin slapping loudly, and his grunts added to your immeasurable arousal. You couldn’t do anything, moan or move or even think. You just let your body lay completely limp against the marble and whimpered brokenly into your arms, tears falling freely. There was nothing but the pleasure Tom was plowing into your core right now, burning in and out of your pussy and further blackening your mind.

To make matters worse, to drive you that much closer to complete insanity, Tom picked up your right knee and placed it onto the counter. He pressed you down hard onto the slick surface with a hand on your ass and another on your hip. The pressure and the angle had him right up against your sweet spot when he fucked in, making you cry out. Your engorged clit would rub against the edge of the counter every few thrusts and sparked stars behind your eyelids.

“Fucking slut,” Tom moaned desperately, out of breath from the ministration of his brutal thrusts, “You just let me use this pussy however I want. And you absolutely love it. You’re dripping down my legs, you slut.”

He chuckled when you didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond.

“I like it when you scream and beg,” he panted against your back, having leaned down to plunge inside with renewed vigor, “but I have to admit - fuck - I have to admit that I love it when you’re like this. Just completely fucking dumb for this cock.”

He sounded as insanely aroused as you were. He sweat profusely as his hips pistoned frenetically against yours. You couldn’t believe his stamina. His engorged member continued to stretch your sensitive walls and slammed right next to where you need him. And every inch of you and the surface where he took you was wet and hot, even the air you desperately tried to inhale.

Suddenly, he stopped. Tom plunged his cock as deep as it would go in you and stayed put. You felt a hand leave your hip and squeeze between the counter and your sweaty belly. It groped one of your breasts firmly and your cunt clenched involuntarily. Finally, his hand left your torso and circled around your neck, lifted your head from where it lay limp against your arms. You locked eyes with him in the mirror again. He was indeed sweaty, face flushed, eyes hungry.

“Ask for it,” he whispered roughly against your cheek. “We’ve both waited long enough, don’t you think?” He bit down on your earlobe and sucked on it to see your eyes flutter closed. He pressed himself impossibly deeper into you, making you yelp from the sudden painful surge of pleasure. “Ask for it.”

“Please, Tom,” you breathed out, “Make me come. I wanna come on your cock again.”

And without any warning, Tom bent his knees slightly and proceeded to slam against your g-spot with all his might. Your left thigh was slamming against the wooden cabinet fast and painfully. He set an animalistic pace and used his grip on your throat to bring you back into his cock as much as he could. He was going deep and hard and it didn’t take you more than a few seconds to feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach.

When you came, you came hard. You gasped so long that you choked on your own breath. Your eyes rolled back so hard that you thought for a moment that you were going to blackout. Your cunt fluttered uncontrollably as you came repeatedly on his thick shaft that still moved relentlessly inside you. You cried out and moaned unabashedly as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You were mildly aware of Tom coming shortly after, grunting dirty praises behind gritted teeth and grinding roughly and deep inside you.

For a few seconds, you both stayed exactly where you were, breathing erratically - you against the cold counter, Tom against your back. He slipped out of you a moment later and you felt some movement from behind you before flinching at a cold wet wipe hitting your backside. Tom chuckled an apology and proceeded to wipe away the wetness between your thighs.

Your body felt warm, limp, and relaxed. You hadn’t felt this relaxed in months. You hadn’t had a million worries in your mind in forever. You smiled softly and secretively against your own arms as you enjoyed the feeling of letting go.

“Hey,” Tom whispered. At the same time, you lazily rolled up to your elbows, he snaked both his arms around your torso and tucked his face between your neck and shoulder. He sported the same blissful expression as you. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you whispered back. After having been intimate with him, after being so vulnerable, to have him treat you gently and talk to you softly made you feel like you could trust him.

“You are amazing,” he said against your warm skin. You couldn’t hold back the appreciative smile that broke through your face. He glanced up to lock eyes with you on the mirror and timidly asked, “Stay with me tonight?”

“I don’t know if I should,” you answered, though your smile never faltered.

“But I want to cuddle,” he murmured against your neck again and you felt goosebumps run down your back for reasons other than arousal. Sometimes he made your heart flutter just as much as he made you lightheaded with want.

“You know that’s not what we do.”

“But it could be,” his smile grew. He removed himself from you and waited with his hands on the edge of the counter as you turned around and rose to your feet in the little space he provided.

“You know I’m busy.” What you knew is that you were totally full of bullshit. You couldn’t even hold a straight face as you continued to protest just for the sake of making it hard for him.

“What you said,” he countered, smiling as he caressed all over your waist and back, spreading warmth across your skin, “is that you were too busy to date this semester. But the semester’s over now…”

You bit your lip to suppress the huge grin trying to break free. He had remembered. He had held on to the hope of being with you for months.

“And you said you’d give us a chance when that happened.” He looked at you intensely and you were sure your eyes glinted in the semi-darkness of his bathroom. “Do you still mean that?” He asked seriously.

You didn’t have it in you to lead him on, tease him any longer. You could see the vulnerability, the sincerity in his eyes and in every word he just said. You could trust him. No games.

“Yeah, Tommy,” you whispered, “I do.”

He flashed you with a bright smile and wasted no time pressing his lips flush against yours. Your ensuing chuckle broke you apart just a couple seconds later. Like a perfect gentleman, he dressed you in his own fluffy white robe, put on his red Santa shorts back, threw the rest of your clothes in the laundry basket, and lead you by the hand to his private bedroom just across the hall.

He gave you a pair of his pajamas before you both settled under his warm blankets. He was quick to pull you to his chest and snuggle close. As you waited for sleep to come, letting Tom’s breathing soothe you further, you didn’t even hear the muffled sounds of the party still going on one floor down. It was a happy chuckle from Tom that broke off your snoozing state.

“What?” You mumbled against him.

“Can’t wait to rock your world again tomorrow morning.”

You mentally rolled your eyes. Smug bastard.

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #dom tom holland

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sooghostwriter · 4 years

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Only on the Weekends

Member/Pairing: Do Kyung Soo x OC (Nameless) Genre/Type: Mature, Romance, AU, smut. Warnings: Sexy times. BJs for days. Word count: 3758 (Way shorter, think about this chapter as a transition one)

Notes: This story takes please wherever you want. You will see why it would be weird to centered it in Korea.

Also, kindly reminder that this is not Instagram.

Summary: She is saved by a caring man from a little mishappening in the middle of the forest. A small act of kindness turns into seasons of laughs, food, fun, care, love and sex.

Chapter 2

- Autumn –

The change in the weather at the mountain was noticeable. Very windy, still warm during the day, but with cold afternoons. It was the second week since they started dating. In the beginning, she wasn’t sure if that was what they were doing. She thought they were having something close to a friend with benefits relationship. Benefits soon to be established. But Kyung Soo had another idea “I don’t want to be just friends with benefits, I like you, I want to date you.” He said over the phone, voice clear. Serious and confident enough to not leave any space for doubt. She lost her voice and was only able to say “I like that.” Almost inaudible. So, they had a pseudo short distance relationship now.

That week she kept expecting for their weekend a bit more than just some kisses with different degrees of groping. It was about time, at least in her book. That was her aim for the weekend, until that Friday morning. The whole week she planned the sexiest way to come at him, and she had her slutiest underwear ready. But that morning, a familiar feel in her tummy ruined her intentions. She dashed to the bathroom and saw the first spots of her period "Fucking bitch" She cursed at her crutch "I thought we were a team" She rested her head on her knees, controlling her anger. It wasn't her uterus fault nor hers, she just forgot about it, and she wasn't the kind of girl that followed her period. She was over it. She took a shower, put on her menstrual cup, and just surrendered to the idea of not having sex with Kyung Soo that weekend.

It was already dark and quite cold when she arrived. Kyung Soo appeared at his door with a puffy grey hoodie and black pants. He looked so good in black pants. She hugged him tightly, inhaling his scent, feeling again frustrated "Is everything ok?" He asked worried, rubbing her back, his hand reaching a bit too low on her lower back "Yeah, just a bit frustrated...because of work" "Anything I can do to help?" So much, there was so much he could do to help, but she was temporarily out of business. Their dinner was filled with nervousness and playfulness. Over dinner, later as they watched a movie that Kyung Soo had just bought and then over a cup of tea around midnight. It was very easy to laugh with him, banter with him, and flirt with him. She went to bed, the guest room bed, late at night. The next morning, she woke up at dawn, for the first time in her life on a weekend. Kyung Soo was at the kitchen, serving himself a cup of coffee. As soon as he saw her, he gave her his cup and poured himself a new one. He drank his coffee just like hers.

On Saturday Kyung Soo was a bit needier. Touching and kissing her whenever he wanted, sitting very close to her and cuddling on her. She wasn’t the best cuddler. But with Kyung Soo felt nice. Really nice. He was warm, always smelled amazing, and having him in her arms was so very pleasant. When she asked him if he was always this cute and needy, he simply answered, “It’s just that I’m not going to see you for a week” She wasn’t sure if she was still in the missing him face. From Monday to Friday, she was only focused on work and everything related to living in the city. It was only at night that he occupied her whole mind. A couple of texts turned into a call and then it was close to midnight and they were still laughing. But during those times, when she heard his low voice over the phone, she wished she was seating next to him, playing with his short locks of hair. She liked knowing that he was thinking about her at night, she liked imagining that he was doing way more than thinking about her. With that thought, an idea came to her mind. That weekend, she wasn’t available to have sex, that was settled, but there were other ways of pleasure. Sure, she wasn’t going to get direct action or instant relief. But pleasuring her partner sounded just as enticing. It could be such a nice preview, a bit of teasing for what would come next weekend. It could be playful, intimate, sensual and hopefully unforgettable for him.

After breakfast, she offered herself to help him take care of his garden. She put fertilizer on each flower as he cleaned the weed. Her job was quite simple compared to his, but he still complimented her work. Which felt quite nice. It was always nice watching him work. he was focused, did everything with extreme care, and listened to her attentively, even when he was focused on his task. Also, the whole visual of him working, sweaty nape, furrowed eyebrows, and deep groans. In the back of her mind, she kept wondering how he moaned during sex.

The rest of the day she tried to stop thinking about getting into his pants. Not that she wasn't going to do it, but she felt a bit guilty.

The sun was setting, and after a nice walk with Baekhyun, they went back home for dinner and drinks. She was setting the table ready when his phone rang. He greeted the person on the phone with a bit of indifference, she could hear some complaint on the other side, Kyung Soo didn't react. He kept quiet for a couple of seconds, listening, and when his caller was done talking, he answered with the same indifference "No, you guys can't come" She heard another unintelligible noise "You guys can't come, I'm with my girlfriend and I'm not sharing our time with any of you" Instead of complaints she could hear clear howling sounds, making Kyung Soo chuckle "I'm hanging up" He didn't hesitate when he pressed the red button "Everything alright?" She stood behind him, pulling at his sweater "It was Chanyeol asking to come here with some friends for food and drinks, I told him I was with you" "I heard that, but I don't care if you invite them, I would hate to be the reason you don't get to see your friends" He turned around, holding her by the waist pulling her closer "You aren't, as I told him, I'm not sharing our time together, I can go out with them during the week, my weekends are yours" She could feel her cheeks blush. Maybe what he was saying wasn't the most romantic thing ever, but his words weren't the only way he communicated his ideas or intentions. The earnestness of his eyes and the touch of his hands sometimes said more than his words, and that always made her feel extremely flustered "Then is just us" She whispered, "You like that?" She could learn a bit from Kyung Soo and express herself through actions rather than words. So she pulled him for a kiss, pillowing his lower lip carefully between hers, kissing him slowly. After all, their weekends were only theirs, and they had time to kiss, hug, and touch each other. Maybe a bit more. The romanticism building up in her head and chest was suddenly tainted by other very romantic, yet rowdy needs. With each stroke of his lips, her hips bucked against him, making him held her tighter against his body, deepening the kiss and shallowing their breaths.

Kyung Soo’s hands slid down to her lower back, groping her ass and rubbing his hard-on against her. That took her by surprise. She thought he was going to be a bit more under control, as always. She rolled her eyes and moaned in pleasure, she wasn’t expecting that, but it was everything she wanted. Not today though "Sorry but we are not doing that today" She whispered against his lips, holding his face close. His first instinct was to apologize "No baby, don't apologize, I want to, but I can't do it today, I'm indisposed" He blinked slowly a couple of times until he understood what she meant, giving her a silly expression. He apologized again "Stop, look...we can't have real honest sex today" She caressed his lips with one finger and slid it over his chin, down his neck until she reached his collarbone "But I need to touch you, otherwise I'm going to go crazy, so please, let me touch you today" She put emphasis in the you, making things clear for him to understand. Kyung Soo looked at her incredulous "Just me? " "Just you" She felt his hands moving up her back, settling between her shoulder blades, pulling her to his chest "Hulder, what's your plan?" She rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered very close to his ear what her intentions were and saw with gratification how the tip of his ears went red. She looked at his face and Kyung Soo was looking down, trying to control a smile “What?” “I can’t say no to that” He ended with a short giggle “It’s not too much?” She wanted to make sure that she wasn’t making him uncomfortable or forcing him in some way “No, is not too much” “Then I think you should get comfortable” She whispered as she touched him through his pants, feeling him half hard. He shoved his face into the crook of her neck, releasing a low whimper. She kept rubbing him, already in love with his reaction “Let’s go to my room” He offered, grabbing her hand that was currently playing with his zipper, and pulling her with him to his room.

Kissing him was so distracting. Having him on top of her, kissing her neck, and grunting next to her ear could easily turn into an addiction. She could feel his hard-on rubbing her thigh and she couldn’t wait to have it “Get on your back Kyung Soo” She whispered against his lips “Mhmm, I like it like this” He said with a lopsided grin “You are going to like it more on your back” He chuckled and followed her instructions, falling on his back with a dull sound. Between giggles and muttered words she pulled down his pants and kneeled next to him. He looked at her clearly nervous, as nervous as she was. But his excitement was obvious, she could feel it with her hands as she rubbed his dick over his boxers. She gave him a long last kiss and then dragged her teeth down his neck. His breath hitched as she pulled down his underwear and positioned herself between his legs. She hugged his hips as she kissed her way down his stomach until her lips landed close to the tip of his dick. She didn’t want to be tacky, but it was mouthwatering. Kyung Soo locked eyes with her as she gave the first tentative lick and then let his head fall back, moaning softly. She felt a sudden rush take over her body. He had given in to her, and she could do what she intended now. As she took him deeper, she caressed up his stomach and then down, enjoying how his muscles contracted under her sensitive fingertips. His skin was hot, smooth, and his smell was already engraved on her memory. She took the base of his cock firmly in one hand, licking the tip and sighing in satisfaction as she could taste a drop of precum. She started slow, sucking him softly and using more hands than mouth. Doing what she could with his size. Having him like that between her lips only made her want him more. It was torture knowing that she couldn’t have him yet. But so far, this was as good. She brushed her lips along his length. Hearing him breathlessly say "Fuck" and "Yes" was the greatest payoff. Kyung Soo was enjoying it, but he wasn’t taking too much part in it. She loved being in charge and controlling his reactions, but she also wanted some action from him. Hands guiding her head and dirty words. She wanted a bit of dominance from him too. She passed her arms under his thighs encouraging him to buck into her mouth. Kyung Soo grunted, loud and deep, making her smile in satisfaction, her mouth full of him. His fingers went through her hair, massaging her scalp. She hummed in satisfaction, and Kyung Soo bucked his hips harder, making her gag “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He apologized immediately, grabbing her head carefully. She let go of him, smiling at his sweet reaction “I’m ok, don’t worry, keep doing that baby” She kissed his hand and took him in her mouth again, bobbing her head up and down as she took him deeper. She put her ass up in the air, getting comfortable, arranging her angle. But also the rubbing of the bed against her lower body was driving her slightly crazy. He called her name between soft moans and lifted his back from the bed, caressing her nape and back “You’re gonna make me come” She lifted her head, finding him face to face. His cheeks and ears were red, eyes half-closed and mouth half-open as he breathed quickly. The view made her chest jump in her chest, enabling her from speaking. She dropped a soft peck on his wet lips and went back to work. He was so hard and so hot, the idea of making him come and having him all for herself thrilled her to the core. Kyung Soo started jerking his hips up to meet her mouth, digging his fingers into the sheets. She wanted to release some of her pleasure. Touch between her legs just to feel some friction, anything that could calm down her pulsating clit, just a little bit. But the idea of building up, of edging over the week until the next weekend sounded so much better. The small fantasy that had just built up in her head made her tighten her grip on his dick and give a slow lick up his length, finishing by placing her lips over the head of his cock, opening them wide to fit him into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down. Faster than before. Sucking harder than before “Fuck!” He cursed again, holding her head “I’m going to come” He said, followed by a long moan. She didn’t say anything, only kept doing what was clearly working for him. He moaned again, with a crack in his voice and she could finally feel him spilling on her tongue. Kyung Soo tried to move away but she stopped him from doing it by holding to his hips, and he didn’t insist.

It was kind of embarrassing how eager she was to have him come in her mouth. She didn’t know where did that need came from, but it was a necessity. Watching him come just for her and because of her was euphoric.

She sighed with satisfaction once her mouth was clean. Kyung Soo was still holding her head, rubbing her temples. His eyes were closed with a soft smile on his lips. His chest moved up and down, as she crawled her way up, falling on top of him. He immediately held her in his arms, tightly, sharing his warmth with her. He called her name a couple of times, still having trouble speaking. She was the same. After a couple of minutes of breathing, soft laughs and a couple of exchanged kisses, Kyung Soo was finally able to speak “You need to go and rinse or something?” “No, I need to go and eat the dinner you were preparing” Kyung Soo turned around, pushing her onto the mattress, and gave her a quick peck on the lips “Let’s go have dinner then…” He didn’t finish his sentence, frowning deeply “What? What happened?” She asked worried, holding his cute face between her hands “I just had a thought, and I can’t say it, is too stupid and…dirty” “Please say it, I love stupid and dirty” She had to beg a couple of times until Kyung Soo was ready to speak “I was going to say, that this was going to be your second dinner, because you…you know” An uncontrollable giggle erupted from her chest, infecting him. He hid his face on her chest as she caressed his hair and celebrated his joke. After dinner, they both took separate showers and went to separate rooms. Sharing his bed was out of the question. She didn’t need more temptations.

Sundays were always a tiny bit sad at Kyung Soo’s place. It was time to go home, and with each weekend they spent together, the harder it was. Also that Sunday, winter gave them a small preview with a very cold and windy day. She didn’t bring the right clothing and it was cloudy, so they stayed inside “It’s a bit of a bummer” Kyung Soo commented, as he stood behind her, hugging her waist “The weather?” “And what it brings” “You don’t like winters?” He shook his head and rested his chin on her shoulder “Winter here is amazing, cold, but beautiful, what I meant is that because of winter, you are not going to wear your denim shorts and summer dresses anymore” She turned her face, bumping her nose with his. She was surprised by his sentence. She didn’t know she liked them, although she did wear them with that intention. That and to fight the heat. That morning, despite the cold, she wore her summer dress anyway, after all, Kyung Soo got up early to turn on the fireplace. She turned around and hugged him back, caressing his shoulders and nape “Don’t worry, next week I’m going to give you something better than a summer dress” His cheeks, which always reflected the sun, were still shining under the cold light that came through the window. His hands wandered a little bit lower, pulling her closer, and kissing her. His head angled to kiss her deep, teasing her with his tongue. She wanted to devour his lips, kiss him like that without stopping, even deeper and messier. She wanted to get on her knees and brag about what her tongue could do too.

Kyung Soo had one hand on her head, and another on the wall holding himself. Her legs were already feeling a bit of discomfort, but it was worth it. He was close to coming, his hips bucking, grunting softly. She let go of his cock but kept pumping him with her hands. She called his name and Kyung Soo looked down at her, smiling and rubbing her cheek with his thumb "Kyung Soo, do you think about me at night? Does your hand wonder down thinking about me? Do you wish it was my hand?” She finished with a purr like voice, still stroking him slowly. Kyung Soo’s eyes went dark, as he grabbed her upper arms. He pulled her up and pinned her against the wall. For the first time she saw him lose control and it was breathtaking "Do you want to drive me crazy?” He almost growled against her right cheek “You know how badly I want to fuck you?" He emphasized his words by giving a good squeeze to her ass. She felt like screaming in triumph, pleasure, and desperation "I know you want, but I'm having my fun now" She bit his lower lip playfully, and rubbed the tip of his dick, seeking for his release “How is this your fun?” “You have no idea how turn on I am by you, Kyung Soo, your voice, your gestures, your smell…” He interrupted her with another hard squeeze and with his free hand he grabbed her jaw, pressing enough to make her open her mouth so he could stick his tongue inside her. This is just what she wanted. He was matching her energy and fitting perfectly with her dynamics.

By the third time she sat between Kyung Soo's legs that weekend, she could feel the spark of possessiveness growing inside of her. A need to having him all for herself, making him hers, only hers, being the only one that gets to see him like this. That couldn’t be good. But she wasn't planning on stopping.

Their activities that Sunday could be summed up on whatever they did between blow jobs. Eating, watching something, talking. A lot of talking. She liked how whenever they were apart, not lying next to each other, she would look around to see what he was doing, and she would find him looking at her. He never looked away when their eyes met. Only smiled and held her stare until she looked down smiling. It was so comfortable to be around him. She didn’t need to talk all the time, just sit next to him and share her cup of coffee. It was so stupid to think that this could be just a friend with benefits kind of relationship. From day one she could feel that it was much more than that. She was glad Kyung Soo was the kind of guy that knew what he wanted and asked for what he wanted.

She left later than normal. Too entertained talking and cuddling with Kyung Soo. His eyes still looked dazed, and his voice was softer than usual. As always he walked her to her car, holding a bag with gifts. This time, apples. She put it on the back seat and then walked to him for a goodbye kiss. His lips were pouting as he rubbed one of his eyes “You tired my friend?” She rubbed his left ear, and rested her hand on his neck "You wore me out, I'm a bit sensitive” He pointed to his crotch “Oh poor you” She brought her hands to her chest, looking at his crotch with fake worry “I'm being serious it hurts a little bit” “Then spend the rest of the night naked from the waist down and take a long bath” “Very funny, you will see, next week I'm going to do the same to you” He wasn’t joking, she could tell by now “Promise?” His lips turned slightly upward “Laugh for now Hulder, you will see” She grunted slightly frustrated, and got inside her car. Only five days until fuck day. Only five days.

TBC

#exowritersnet #exosnet #Kyungsoo #do kyungsoo #d.o #exo fanfiction #kyungsoo smut

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

some kind of loud, attention grabbing noise that lets you know ITS FIC TIME, BABYYYYY you could start here, but the context... the build up.. the hours of worldcrafting, you'd miss it all... so start here, instead, then circle back.

These last two weeks have actually been nice. She and Adam had both mutually agreed that, despite not being the kind of person either of them would intentionally seek out on their own, Beetlejuice (she still has a hard time believing that’s what BJ stands for, but okay,) is fun. Not just fun, but funny, and seemingly often in the mood to laugh, in that overblown, Vincent Price horror movie way he does, which earns him multiple shushes in the library.

Drama club has gotten better. Barbara has a private theory that what most people need is to just get used to BJ, to spend enough time with him that he stops looking like an outsider, and it’s coming true, slowly, but finally. BJ had mentioned off-handedly he played ukulele, and when the other kids had expressed interest, he’d brought it with him the next day... Though she’s not quite sure where he kept it, the entire day. She’s seen that mess of a locker he’s got. She doubts it fits in there. And it can’t have been in his backpack, either, because every time he sets it down, she can hear what sounds like glass and rocks settling. She’s even seen him, after school, pick up a rock and shove it in one of the pockets. She has to assume his bag weighs a hundred pounds, or so.

His instrument, almost predictably, was painted with black and white stripes, but he’d played the little thing like a pro. She had never taken him for someone who enjoyed the mellow, soft sounds the ukulele was known for, but clearly, she doesn’t know enough about the boy. Miss Larson, the drama instructor, had clapped, and learned that BJ could read music, too. “Maybe while we’re practicing, you can accompany us?” She’d asked, clearly trying to work a way into getting more participation out of their newest member. BJ had been flustered, but had agreed, easily.

The wildest thing had been hearing him sing. They’d moved from being in the drama room, most days, to being in the auditorium, working on lines and practicing their singing. No one’s been officially cast, yet, but it’s mostly to get used to being on stage. Miss Larson had insisted that BJ sing a few lines for them, and he’d sort of made a face, ducked backstage, and had appeared with his ukulele in hand. Barbara didn’t even know he’d put it back there.

“Uh, so, sing what?” He’d shuffled awkwardly, and Miss Larson had smiled. “Whatever you feel,” to which BJ just snorted, and rolled his eyes, but then he plucked a few notes on his ukulele, and started to sing.

“There’s a camp, there’s a camp, by the frozen lake, wa wa ooh. With every belly starving and every finger numb, but up on the hill there’s a red, red rum, somebody’s always cooking something in the lean-to.”

It wasn't a song she’d recognized, but it was clearly morbid. She shouldn’t have expected anything different. The real focal point was his voice, his strange, scratchy pitch, because despite sounding like he gargles sandpaper and nails, he’s got a strong, clear tone, one that carries well, and as he sings, he doesn’t hit a single sour note. She also noted that his enunciation is much clearer when he’s singing, oddly enough. He sang as much as he decided he needed to, and clung to his ukelele as he finished, like a lifeline. “So. Yeah.” He’d said, and then flinched when the clapping started, from all members present, but especially her and Adam. He’d stood looking around at them all, utterly baffled.

“You didn’t tell us you would sing!” Jeremiah, the student director, was the one who looked the most enthused, and BJ balked. “Didn’t think it mattered. M’just gonna be a stagehand.. Right?”

“Maybe he could play the dentist?” Miss Larson had looked at Jeremiah, and they’d begun talking amongst themselves, ignoring him, as he strummed nervously at his instrument.

“Oh, wait, check this out!”

And he sings again, another verse from that same, oddly morbid song, which she’d started to pick up is definitely about cannibals, but his voice is.. Different. The grit is gone. It’s like he’d ran his vocal cords under some hot soapy water, and washed all the grime and gravel out of them, because he sang like an angel, like a normal person, and then, suddenly, devolved into a hacking cough, doubled over.

“Sorry, can only do that so long. Hurts my throat,” he said, after a moment, all the grit back in his voice. He waited. There had been a soft laugh, and then it grew louder, coming from each of the members watching him in turn, because the idea that speaking like THAT somehow hurts, and his normal tone doesn’t, is just so outrageous and silly, and he’d stood there proudly, grinning in that way he does, because his joke had landed, and he might, for the first time since he was forced into their club, be enjoying himself.

So, yes. The last few weeks have been good. Very good.

All that club progress aside, looking back makes her a little flustered, because at this point, she’s gotten the hint that he’s not gay. What he is, is incredibly flirty, not only with Adam but with her, and she finds herself... enjoying it. He keeps his ukulele tucked into the bottom of the cart in the library, and sometimes, when he’s certain he won’t be interrupted, he grabs it and sings little songs about them, laying on top of the cart like a drunk lounge singer on a piano, as she or Adam wheel it along. The songs are made up on the spot tunes that often start dirty, and end sincere, like he can’t even help it. It’s embarrassing, and endearing, and just very… Beetlejuice.

There’s just the problem lingering overhead, the one she’s desperate to solve, of Kevin. BJ doesn’t talk about him, abruptly changes the subject when she tries, or just goes silent, and gives her a hard glare with those amber eyes, which is the worst of the three options, because silence on him is unnerving. He can do this thing where he goes deathly still, and she swears he doesn’t even breathe, just stands there, totally unmoving, like a corpse.

She thinks if she could just go to his house, and talk to his mother, she might get a better understanding of the entire situation, but despite him inviting them, he’s never followed up, and both Adam and herself are too polite to push.. Directly. But then, he doesn’t show up that day, not for library duty and not for drama club, and she makes the decision for him, that today is the day they’ll be coming over. She gets his address out of the guidance counselor, easily. “It’s so sweet you two want to go check up on him,” Mrs. Birch says, sliding his address across her desk to Barbara. “I knew the drama club would be a good fit for him! He’s already making friends!”

Adam’s mom is nice enough to drop them off, and Adam, adorable, sweet Adam, stares delighted at the house, as they walk up the front steps. “It’s a tudor!” he tells her, and she sort of nods, not really knowing exactly what that means. “I’ve never seen one painted black and white, before. Usually those accents are a natural wood color,” and she rings the bell, as he goes on. The outside of the house matches BJ’s stripes, and she wonders if that’s coincidence, or if his parents just really, really love him. The door swings open, and then a chubby blur jumps away from their line of sight, startling her from her thoughts. “Beetlejuice?” Adam calls, concerned, and it takes a moment for their friend to reappear in the doorway, with a croaked out, “Sup?”

He looks terrible. He always looks a little terrible, as mean as that is to say, too pale and with purple spots under his eyes she chalks up to exhaustion, but he looks worse, today. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d actually be sick.

“We just wanted to come by and see if you were okay,” she tells him, and BJ cocks his head so far to the side, he looks like he might fall over. “Why?” “Because.. We’re your friends,” Adam says, cautiously, which causes BJ to stare down at the checkered entryway tile.

“Oh.” He packs a lot of emotion into that little noise.

“Can we come in?” She asks, and he doesn’t look sure, rubbing at the back of his neck, but then next to him, in the doorway, appears what must be Mrs. Deetz. She’s on the tall side, slim, with blonde hair past her shoulders, and she’s wearing all black with lace accents. Even her stud earrings and the rings on her fingers are that same dark hue.

“Well, hello! BJ, invite your friends in!” She urges him, and then, to them asks, “You kids hungry? We’re just sitting down to dinner. It’s grilled cheese tower night,” and then she turns, and leaves them there, like that needs no explanation.

BJ fidgets a moment, but relents. “Come in, I guess,” he moves aside, and Adam and Barbara take a collective step into the Deetz household. The house is dark, not for lack of light, but for lack of color. The walls are paneling which Adam, delighted, says must be original, but they’ve been stained a dark shade of coffee, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. When she does, she takes in how strangely eerie the place is. It’s less like someone’s home and more like a haunted house ride.

“Oh, you guys haven't taken down the Halloween décor, yet?” Adam asks, noting a cracked vase full of black roses on a side table as they follow BJ further in, and BJ snorts. “That crap? It's up in th’ attack. This is what passes for normal around here.” Barbara stops to stare at a picture of a distorted figure cannibalizing a smaller one. “Saturn Devouring His Son,” BJ says, briefly putting on a voice like a tour guide, high pitched and peppy, and both she and Adam wince. “What’s with you and cannibalism?” she asks, which only earns her that haunted laugh in response.

The kitchen, at least, looks a little more normal and bright, but Barbara learns quickly that’s not to be trusted, because sitting on the counter is what looks to be a lasagna made from sandwiches and sauce. “You guys are here on a night Emily had to cook. Bad luck,” BJ tells them, and it takes her a moment to realize he’s talking about his mother. Does he use her first name?

Emily, or, Mrs. Deetz, her mind corrects politely, busies herself with dishing them both a plate. “So, you kids must be.. Adam and Barbara,” she says, knowingly, and BJ, perhaps embarrassed, shuffles his bare feet at nothing. He’s been talking to his mom about them… aww. She notices then that he’s in his pajamas, which are, like everything else he wears, eccentric. He looks cute. She realizes she’s staring, and BJ catches her eye, and wiggles his eyebrows at her. Oh, god.

“We’re sorry for dropping by unannounced, Mrs. Deetz,” Adam says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Mrs. Deetz waives that off. “It’s totally fine. BJ’s never taken a sick day, before, I bet you probably thought he was faking. You kids can call me Emily. And that, of course, is Lydia.” She gestures to the nine year old scrutinizing them from the kitchen table.

“Hello again,” Barbara says, and Lydia gives her a smile, at least, but it's wary, it’s very, “I’ve got my eyes on you.” It’s strange to see from a little kid.

They all sit down to eat, all five of them, at the kitchen table, she and Adam settled across from BJ and Lydia. Adam squints, trying to read what’s on the other boy’s shirt. “What does that say?” he asks, and BJ glances down, and pulls the top taught, to make it easier to read. “Least exciting hole I’ve ever been in,” both boys say, at the same time. “Grand Canyon National Park.” Barbara and Adam both blush at that, and Mrs.. Emily, Emily just laughs. Lydia looks annoyed. “No one will explain to me what that means,” she tells Barbara, leaning closer to her, and almost looking hopeful. Barbara avoids that look. “It’s a dirty joke,” is all she says, and Lydia, clearly not satisfied, just takes a bite of her grilled cheese abomination. “Chuck hates this shirt,” BJ tells them. “Chuck?” “Chuck, Chuckster, Chuckles, Charles.. My dad,” he grates out. Barbara can’t imagine calling her father by his first name. She’d be in a world of trouble for being “disrespectful,” if she tried. “Is Mr. Deetz home?” Adam asks, and Lydia is the one to reply, mouth still a little too full.

“He’s at the office. He’s always working so fucking late,” Lydia says, and then lets it settle in the air, like she’s waiting for something. Barbara balks, and it feels like her eyes are bulging out of her head, because she’s never heard that kind of language from a nine year old. She glances at Emily nervously, waiting for her to blow up, to be angry, but Emily just seems to be in deep thought.

“I dunno about that one, Lyds,” Mrs. Deetz finally says, and Lydia puffs up her chest and tries again. “He’s always working so god damn late?” She looks to her mother, and Emily, finger on her chin, nods. “Yeah, alright. I hereby decree that Lydia Deetz, at the age of nine and a half, is allowed to say god damn.” Lydia pumps her fist and then takes another huge mouthful of grilled cheese casserole. “Bout fuckin’ time,” BJ grunts. Barbara thinks the Deetz family might all be whack jobs. there's more, a lot more, but tumblr can't handle it all, so read this chapter in full over on Ao3!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #goldenrat #beetlelands #barbara maitland #adam maitland #lydia deetz #emily deetz

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ngc-5194 · 3 years

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twewy anime episode 1: thoughts

i’m gonna preface this whole thing by saying i’m still going to be watching the whole anime.

i like their take on partner pacts and the animation is pretty. the music is nice. i’m always happy for more twewy content. i adore the different location titles. the Noise being 3D is cool and will certanitly help me get used to them being like that before neo: twewy drops. but i feel kinda iffy about a few things.

(also please keep in mind i’m basing my impressions on neku off of the translated version. i know there’s differences between english neku and japanese neku but,,,,,, yeah)

the pacing:

day one listen i know, i know, it’s gonna be different- cutting down a 25~ hour game into a few anime episodes is gonna be difficult. but there’s such a thing as cutting too many corners.

packing the first three days into one episode would’ve been fine on it’s own. i’m perfectly fine with them saving time for later days. day one being compacted to 7 minutes isn’t the worst thing in the world. it works fine length-wise but it doesn’t really feel like day one.

they spend most of their time on day one showing neku waking up. which is fine. it’s rather important to set up what’s happening in this story with the reapers game. but,,, wow they could’ve done it better by making it just a smidge longer.

like,,,,,, keep the scene of neku waking up. keep him reading minds by people walking through him, okay? but instead of just cutting to him by hachiko, keep in him getting chased by Noise. it’s a really minor change, but it affects a lot. it gives high stakes right off the bat, it introduces the Noise as something closer to what they are in game at this point. a threat. something to be feared since at this point in the game you can’t fight them. they just attack you, over and over and over again, and you can’t do anything about it but run. so just give them that same feeling in the anime- that’s it, that’s all i ask for to make day one better in this regard. day two ok, day two was,,,,,, hmmm

for starters: having them wake up in scramble crossing again is,,, a choice. it means that we don’t have shiki looking at the picture of her and eri. it means we don’t have them actually having to try to get to hachiko. it means we don’t have them using scanning as part of the mission (i’ll get to my thoughts about scanning in a sec). it means we don’t have shiki and neku starting to bounce ideas off of each other. it means beat and rhyme don’t like neku for him almost killing shiki. which, sure, them not liking him for that is valid, but that wasn’t the point.

the point was neku was unlikeable enough, standoffish enough, unwilling to trust others enough, that he turned down their offers of help and instead accuses them (shiki included) saying that they could all be reapers. he rejects their offered help, insults them and his partner, complains about their ‘nagging’, and says he doesn’t want to work with them because he feels they’d only drag him down. and this is all after their intro to him of him leaving his partner behind and forcing her to run after him. this is all after him being moody in the corner while the three of them share info and try and befriend each other. that is why beat doesn’t like him in the game. thus, beat and rhyme leave, leaving neku and shiki alone. neku’s already annoyed, both by the interaction with beat and him feeling like shiki doesn’t care because she’s looking at her phone over and over. he constantly ignores shiki, getting lost in thought while shiki tries to talk to him- tries to become closer friends with him while he in turn tries to cut her off, ignore her, keep his walls up. when he’s offered the choice to sacrifice her in order to help himself, he doesn’t hesitate. he takes very little convincing. that is how that scene goes in the game.

so lets look at the anime, huh?

beat doesn’t like neku at first because he doesn’t engage in the conversation. they meet each other while shiki and neku are having their own conversation. beat is the only one of the two to accuse the others of being reapers. not only is the mission no longer a puzzle, but instead just a fight that beat and rhyme also happen to be there for. meaning we don’t get them realizing that if one pair completes the mission everyone survives. when uzuki gives neku the mission it becomes more of a ‘he’s being possessed and controled by the Noise’ thing rather than a ‘he makes this choice for himself because he’s a flawed character and the Noise are drawn to that’ thing. (also since beat’s there he already knows hanekoma and hears what he tells shiki and neku??? i don’t- whatever)

can you see how that’s a little different? day three once again, having them wake up in scramble crossing is an interesting choice. but it’s fine. having them walk to A-East (or O-East now i guess??) instead of waking up there is a fine change to make, i don’t mind it. it gives them an excuse to not have to put the characters in a completely darkened room. what i do mind is the rest of the changes they made to cut the day down.

for one the tech is a reaper now??? and potentially part of the band???? when that’s not what his character was in the slightest??????

second, they changed the mission? the whole thing with the bat is neku accepts beat and rhyme’s help because they clear the mission after neku and shiki take out the big bat. which starts to show neku that it’s really not him against the world and helps him start to open up to the three of them. but no, just having shiki and neku take out the big bat is good enough i guess. also this means memes don’t exist which is a criminal offense /j

all, and i mean all, of this day feels too rushed. they sacrificed good pacing to have it end on a “dramatic” note, and i don’t like that. i really think ep 1 should’ve just been the first two days.

characterization:

neku yeah he’s really the only one on the list.

listen i know in the original he’s more socially closed off than the snappy way he is in the translated version, but the anime misses both of those marks.

he’s kinda just,,, a little quiet. he still openly reacts to people. which is much more than game!neku gave on the first few days. the point of the game is to see him grow. i’m not quite sure how the anime is going to pull off the same emotional pay off.

like,,, in the game you watch him go from a full on moody asshole, convinced he doesn’t need anyone else. he doesn’t want to talk to people for ten minutes, let alone have them drag him around for a week, interacting with them every day. but he grows. he changes. he learns that the world doesn’t start and end with him. he learns how to connect with others. he learns how to let others in again. if he was given the choice joshua gives him at the end of the game at the begining of the game, he’d have shot josh without hesitation. that’s the reason joshua chooses him. anime!neku gives me the vibes that no matter where in the story he wouldn’t shoot joshua. he clearly cares about the others during week one and,,,, i dunno, this point will probably get better.

various other things:

777 he gives them a level 2 keypin???? i mean i guess they’re not doing the reapers controling the walls but then it takes away the point of beat having a keypin in week 3 because neku will already have one/know what it is??? also 777 and the tech might be the members of the band? which,,,, :( i want bj and tenho

the picture of shiki and eri why did they cut shiki looking at the picture of her and eri? it’s important to her character and character arc. but they just,,,, drop it??? i don’t-

scanning here’s the thing, i’m fine with how scanning works in the anime. but i’m concerned about later weeks.

how is tabbo noise going to work? there’s no noise symbols floating around so they can’t float towards them while other noise symbols just hang around.

how is scanning joshua going to work? it’s harder to touch someone to scan their mind and have them not notice than it is to mentally scan them while holding a pin and standing about. (even if that person knows exactly what you’re doing bc he’s god or whatever- but that isn’t the point)

ok i’m done, thanks for reading if you managed to make it through my rambles <3

#twewy #twewy anime #twewy spoilers #long post #drops this and runs #hhhhhhh #kinda critical???#i've been writing this on and off for the past five hours and am not quite sure if i regret it or not

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raindropsbarzy · 4 years

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gotta have you

summary: you’re older than him and he gets all blushy every time you’re around because he likes you. a lot (you’re 28 in this case)

word count: 2005

warnings: use of weed, fluff shit, strong language

Mat was immediately drawn into you the first time you have met through mutual friends. Anders was taking the team out for drinks after another win to a local bar in New York that he had never been to. Crazy to think that, considering NY is like his home now but there’s one specific bar he had yet to discover.

It was a small cozy bar called ‘LOLA’ written in red neon lights. The building was painted in all black, nothing exciting about it but it was completely different soon as he stepped inside.

“One of my friends owns this place, sings sometimes here too. Her name’s Y/N. she’s a pretty cool chick.” Anders informed the team as soon as they found a table to sit.

Mat had to hear the countless compliments Anders was giving about you almost throughout the night, or perhaps more like showing off his best friend's success and everything. Not that he had any problem with that, it’s just Anders could be a real blabbermouth when he already had some drinks in him.

“Sounds like you got a crush on the girl” Tito piped, smirking as he took a swig of his beer, hearing the others snicker. Including Mat.

Anders was quick to shake his head. “Not possible. The girl’s got standards. We’re just buds anyways” He said defensively.

What Anders failed to mention was how fucking gorgeous you were of a person,

When the captain pointed at a certain dark haired woman going up on stage, along with the lines of ‘that’s her’, he nearly choked on his drink.

You had your hair up in a high top bun, a few messy curls falling over your forehead. Deep red lipstick painted over your lips. An outline of a dragon tattoo decorating your wrist and all the way up to your arm but it didn’t go over your elbows. The ink looked perfect on you. Few piercings perched on your ears and if he wasn’t mistaken, he caught a glimpse of a tongue and nipple studs when he squinted his eyes.

The short black dress you were wearing was hugging your figure the right way. Especially with the strappy heels you were wearing, you looked sophisticated under the dimmed lights.

“Hello beautiful people, how are you enjoying this beautiful evening?” You asked, a smile on your lips.

When you spoke, he was about to fall onto his knees right there. You had the softest voice he has ever heard. With your hand gently grasping the microphone and eyes slowly scanning across the room. He was entranced by you.

And when you began to sing--to a song he had never heard before-- he was for sure in love with the voice that was carried by a gorgeous woman who was standing a few feet away from their table. The way you tilted your head to the side and closed your eyes as you feel in the music. It was something so sexy yet attractive to him. He had his eyes running to your face and down to your body over and over. Shamelessly staring at you with his chin resting on his knuckles.

He had to thank Anders for taking him out here.

The crowd erupted into a small cheer soon as you did your number, which made your lips carved into a grin and nodded your head as a form of ‘thank you’ before walking off stage. He was a bit disappointed to know that you were only singing one song because he wanted to hear your beautiful, dolvett voice at least three more times.

But that feeling didn’t last long, you were walking over to his table with a smile that seemed couldn’t be wiped off your face and he could sense the butterflies in his stomach. Because, fuck.

You looked much prettier up close.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming with your team Lee, otherwise i would’ve put the velvet booth under your name.” You approached Anders before wrapping your hands around him and so did he,

“Nah. that’s okay. We’re good with the table, anyway.” Anders responded, letting go of his grasp around your waist and turn around to look at his friends. “Oh yeah, guys. This is Y/N. Been a friend of mine since we were... kids.. i think?”

“Afraid so” You teased, making him nudge your stomach with his elbow.

“You were amazing up there. Pretty as hell too. Loved your voice.” One spoke out, he had a messy blonde hair tucked underneath a navy snapback.

“That’s Sebastian.” Lee introduced with a grin, shaking his head lightly at his friend who went straight ahead with the words he had chosen.

Giggling, you nod your head. Shooting him a smile. “I’m glad you did. Gotta entertain a few people here.”

One by one, Anders introduced his teammates to you. Who had no shame calling you pretty and a sultry voice to hear which made you blush a few times because you weren’t used to people giving you many compliments at once.

Then your eyes stopped at Mat. Who had his knees bouncing up and down when he got nervous. Staring at your gorgeous brown eyes.

“And you are...” You trail off, raising your eyebrow at him.

“Mat. Mat Barzal” He stuck his hand out for you to shake, which you gladly took.

‘Fuck her hands are soft’

“Mat Barzal” you repeated, humming slightly. Deciding that you liked how the name rolled off your tongue. Plus he was really handsome and adorable as hell. “You’re pretty cute” With that, you retreated your hand back. Seeing his cheeks reddened as he tried to hide it by looking down at the table.

You bit on your lip softly, silently squealing at how cute this boy was acting like that in front of you. “Well, i’ve got a job to do. See you guys later” You waved bye at the boys, not forgetting to send Mat a playful wink when he looked back up.

and that brings you both here. six months later after becoming close friends with each other. The two of you exchanged numbers that night. When the team was mostly drunk off their asses, you sat down next to him and began a conversation in which he had shy away at first. Then starting to become more comfortable with your personality and found talking with you was just as easy as breathing.

He had learned many interesting facts about you. Your hometown, your college major, your favorite artists and crazy ex boyfriend that you had to put a restraining order on. He was truly captivated by the way you talk about something so small yet you made it sound so beautiful. Never in his life, he had ever been this star-struck about someone. And that feeling he had to bottled up for half a year.

right now, he’s coming over to your apartment because Anders is throwing a BBQ at his place and you asked him earlier if he wanted to go together and of course, Mat couldn’t say no to that.

He's wearing a plain black tee and dark jeans with a chain around his neck. Figuring that the fit was good enough for just a BBQ at his friend’s place.

seconds after he knocks on your door, he hears you shout ‘coming!’ along with loud thumping on the floor.

he smiles at the sound of your voice and grows wider when you open the door,

“hi, barzy” you smile softly at him, panting lightly as you open the door wider for him to come in.

“hi, y/n/n” he leans down giving you a kiss on the cheek before entering your place. observing your choice of attire. a white tank top and pink cotton shorts, he notices you have no bra on so your breasts are practically falling over the top. “you’re not wearing that to Lee’s are you? Not that i mind though” he playfully points, gesturing to the clothes.

rolling your eyes, you smack his arm but smile anyway. “Of course not, you pervert. Even if I was, I wouldn't let you see me like that.”

The flirty banter has become a thing between the two of you. Yeah, you’re friends or whatever but both of you still like to flirt with each other, even go as far as being touchy which you have no problem at all. Whenever you go out he has his firm grip around your waist or when you have a sleepover at his house, you like to lay down on his chest and your arm drapes over his toned stomach.

he chuckles at your attempt of hurting him but he begins to frown when he sees a smoke coming from your kitchen. “Did you burn your food or something?”

“What? Oh no it’s not from food. I was smoking a blunt while I was waiting for you here. Just freshly rolled a backwood. Want some?” You offer, taking his hand as you lead him to the kitchen.

He snorts, shaking his head as he sits on one of the barstool. “No thanks, babe. I hate that stuff.”

“You said that because you haven’t even tried it yet” You say, pouring yourself a glass of water and taking a bite of plain bread, helping you to sober up a little.

“Still a no.” He defends.

“Lame” you sign out dramatically, reaching over the counter to turn on the volume on the speaker

“Who’s that?” He asks quickly, finding the song quite catchy. Trying to get a look on your phone.

“Teyana Taylor, ‘How You Want It’. I fucking love her voice. Might sing it next week.” You shrug, chewing on the bread as you sit across him.

He hums, turning the tune a bit louder. “I like it.”

You look at him like he’s got five heads. “Since when did you like RnB?”

“Since that time you sent me three playlists consists of 50 songs each. Had most of them saved on my Spotify.” He answers, grabbing your glass of water to take a sip.

You freeze for a second, smiling fondly at him and trying so hard to ignore the heebie-jeebies in your stomach when he confesses as if it was nothing.

You cannot believe he actually listened to them.

“Really? You really listened to all of them?”

He nods right away, shoving a few Doritos into his mouth. “Yeah. You got me hooked with Jhene Aiko, BJ The Chicago Kid and Summer Walker here not gonna lie.”

There’s no use in holding back the smile now. Your grin gets wider and the faint blush on your cheeks are visible, making Mat smirks cheekily at you with his eyebrows raise.

“Are you blushing right now?” He jokes,

“Well how could I not?” You exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air as you giggle at him. “Especially when I didn't order you to actually listen to every song in there. You’re making my heart flutter, Maty.” You pout and stare at him with your hooded eyes

He grins softly at the nickname. Glancing at your cute pout and he has to resist the urge to lean over and give you a soft kiss on your lips--like he had been waiting for what it seems to be forever--. His hazel eyes staring back at yours as your hands clasp together and head tilting to the side. Long and messy black hair that you haven’t gotten the time to brush it evenly. your fresh face that hasn’t been covered in makeup yet and a sweet rose scented body lotion on your soft skin. Watermelon lip balm coating your lips.

After months seeing you countless times being dolled up and bare faced with vintage/old shirts and shorts, he decides he likes seeing you like this. Home Y/N is what he loves now.

And he is completely fucked. Because he is in love with you.

And there’s no going back from that.

hii!! do yall like that? because this one is going to be a mini series! this could be one of my favorite writings of Barzy. Let me know if you guys love it and want more! :D

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl #hockey #ny islanders #new york islanders imagine #new york islanders

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mimiscappinisideblog · 4 years

Text

Very, very self indulgent but since I felt the need to write it I thought other people may like it too! Kinda crappy but whatever.

Sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

Happy hands.

It was a lazy day in the apartment. Beetlejuice and Dewey were on the living room mildly paying attention to the TV while you were taking a shower.

Beej looked over at Dewey who was on his phone. He lost track of time staring off in his direction and only came back into him when Dewey commented on his staring.

“You okay there bud? You’ve been silently staring at me for five minutes now” he asked a little concerned. It wasn’t common for the demon to stay silent especially with you in the shower, he’d often say something suggestive for the two of them to do like going in the bathroom to join you. But now he was unusually quiet.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine it’s just... I wanted to ask you what does it mean when someone moves their hands very quick, like fanning themselves but with both hands?”

For how long Dewey has known the demon he was not expecting that kind of question from him.

“Well um, most of the time when someone does that is because they’re excited. Is like, they’re too excited they can’t concealed their emotions and have to express it with their body” more silence came from the demon after the explanation.

“Why? Did you see someone doing that?” Dewey was intrigued now.

“I’ve seen y/n doing it sometimes” Beetlejuice was happy now that he knows why you do that.

“Wait, she does? I’ve never seen her do that”

“Yeah, she mostly does it when she’s on her phone talking to you” alright, that was good but why didn’t he know that?

They both went to the bathroom door and wait for you to come out.

When you finally did you were greeted with a slightly mad Dewey and a curious Beetlejuice behind him.

“Babe why haven’t I see you doing flappy hands?”

You didn’t know how to respond “I- what?”

“Bj here told me you do flappy hands. How come I never saw you doing them?” you looked over at Beeltejuice.

“You spy on me while invisible?!” you scold Beetlejuice.

”What? I get bored when I give you alone time!” he retords.

Dew was confused “Wait, hold on. How you guessed that?” he caugh you, might as well tell him.

“I try not to do that in front of people” you started “I don’t want them to look at me like I’m crazy or inmature so since I was a kid I learned how to not do them around people.”

Seeing you sad was something neither of them liked. They slowly approach you and hold you in their arms “Sweetheart, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s part of you. And we love you as you are. Happy hands and all” Dewey finished with a kiss on your forehead.

“I honestly thing is adorable when you to that, babes” added Beeltejuice rubbing his face on your cheek.

“Alright you saps can I get dresses now?”

“No” they said in unison.

The end♥

#flappy hands are happy hands #me being self indulgent?#more likely than you think #again idk what im doing im just writting stuff that comes to mind #of what im feeling at the moment #asdfghjkl #my writing #Dewey Finn #Dewey Finn x reader #self insert #Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice x reader #school of rock #school of rock broadway #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice broadway #fanfic #aaaahhhhhhhhhhhh

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scullydubois · 4 years

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 10

Missy accompanies Scully to a doctor's appointment. Afterward, Missy confronts Scully about her feelings for Mulder, and Scully slips-up on the phone.

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

She digs through her suitcase, searching for the business card she tucked in the pocket with her underwear. A sharp edge penetrates her skin, stings immediately. Her fingers close around the paper card and pull it out. A thin red cut traces the length of her middle finger, blood begging to seep out. She ignores it and grabs the phone off her nightstand, plugging in the number for the Aubrey Motel.

As she’s dialing, she realizes that it’s already past lunchtime in DC, and even though Missouri is an hour behind, there’s no way Mulder is in his room. She lets it ring anyway, then asks the man who answers for room 12. He patches her through, and sure enough, the line rings until it gives up.

Impressed by her own newfound patience, Scully hangs up and dials Mulder’s cell instead. She’s not exactly sure why she didn’t just do this in the first place; maybe she likes the idea of Mulder being stationary without her, stuck in his room like a lost little boy with no one to guide him. Her heart sinks when she thinks about Mulder gallivanting around Aubrey, solving the case like there’s nothing to it, like he could have been doing it by himself all this time. She wants him to need her. Naturally, she is ashamed of this desire.

She hits the call button and waits while an invisible force shoots across states and connects her to her partner. She does not have to wait long; he answers after the first ring.

“Hello?” He sounds the same as always. Simultaneously there and drifting, one body split between two minds.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

“Hey Scully.” There is a lightness in his voice now, like a balloon cut free of its tether. He is smiling, she thinks...She hopes.

“I just wanted to let you know I made it home safely…” She trails off, not wanting to stop talking to him, but finding herself with nothing else to say.

“I’m glad, Scully.” He always addresses her by name more when they are apart. This is a comfort to both of them. “How’s Melissa?”

Scully looks through the doorway, confirming that her sister is nowhere near to cause any antics. “She’s alright.” She deals in half-truths. “We’re going to the doctor later to get an x-ray, but I think it’s just a sprain.”

“Well, keep me updated. I found a lead on the case--Harry Cokely, the suspect of one of the 1945 murders. I’m on my way to see him. He’s been out of jail since ‘93.”

Scully gulps. “Are you alone?”

“Uh-huh.” He senses her tension through the line. “But I’ll be fine, Scully, he’s an old geezer now. What kind of agent am I if I can’t defend myself against an eighty year old?”

“You could have taken BJ with you.”

“And put a pregnant woman in the line of fire? I’ll be fine, Scully. They wouldn’t have let him out if he were still a danger.”

“Okay, Mulder.” This is not what she means, but it has already been a long day, and there is too much left of it to get into an argument with him.

“I might be able to come back tomorrow,” she blurts out, as if saying it will make it more true. “...I’d like to come back tomorrow.”

“Take all the time you need, Scully. I’ve got this.”

She knows he is trying to be accommodating-- though he so rarely is--but his casual manner confirms her worst fears about her own superfluity. “I want to work, Mulder, you know that.”

“I’m not gonna stop you.” Then, his voice uneven, suspecting but not willing to confront--”Just take care of Melissa--and yourself--okay?”

She nods into the phone. “I will.” She is staring at the barrel of Mulder’s metaphorical gun, knowing he won’t shoot, almost wishing he would. Bleeding out feels like the simple solution. “Bye, Mulder.”

She is leaving so soon, he thinks, grateful to have had her voice accompanying him on the trip. “Bye, Scully. Call the motel tonight, will you?”

“Alright.” She kills the line, each extra second another thorn in her side, a lie allowed to linger. Sin multiplying.

She stands there, clasping the phone in her hand and feeling like a stranger to herself. Her sister thought she should tell him before she flew a thousand miles and let an hour fall between them, and she disobeyed. What Melissa didn’t understand was that vulnerability is not a word in her and Mulder’s shared language. There’s no way to spell out the situation, even if she had wanted to. And she didn’t want to at the time. Or rather, she had wanted to so badly that it was dangerous, that she knew she risked more pain by telling than by withholding. She would have had to invent new words in their language, expand its bounds, and who knows what would come next. Give someone the language to express their feelings, and they will say them. And what then?

She is scared of her own feelings--and his too--because she knows that admitting means losing, somewhere down the road, and she doesn’t ever want to be without him. If she had never met him, she would never have to live without him. This is the gun that is always pressed to her head. She and Mulder are both holding the trigger.

She doesn’t know if he has such a gun against his temple, thinks that maybe he doesn’t, hopes so at least. There have been others for him, she knows this. Phoebe and...well, Phoebe’s the only one she’s met, and she wasn’t that impressive. But he’s a good-looking guy, and a good guy at that, and the whispers of a dark-haired woman who broke his heart float up and down the hallways of the Hoover building. He doesn’t tell, and Scully won’t ask because she worries that the mystery woman is the gun he holds against his own head.

She sets the phone back in its receiver, tired of thinking about guns and triggers and brains blown out. For now, she is in one piece--she’s pretty sure--and she would like to stay that way for as long as her soul will let her.

Her sister calls from down the hallway. “Dana, are you ready?”

Scully managed to book a last-minute appointment with her OB-GYN, thanks to Missy’s insistence that it was an emergency. Personally, she wouldn’t use such a strong word--I mean, it’s not like she’s hemorrhaging or anything. It’s the absence of blood that’s the problem. But there are tests, scans, and probing of the like that can be done, and once Scully admitted this her sister would not drop the issue. Off to every woman’s favorite place they go.

--------

The waiting room is a stepping stone, a purgatory, a beginning and an ending rolled into one. She has been here before, many times. In the past, it felt like an inconvenience, not a threat.

She makes an appointment every year, does everything exactly as she is supposed to do in between, and still she is here and scared. She is careful as careful comes, as prepared as one petite woman alone in the world can be. She can dislocate a jaw, strike a man’s legs out from under him, break a nose. And yet, and yet, and yet...Who first uttered “fairness,” thought it existed on this Earth?

Even so, the consolation of knowing lingers in the distance. Like the minutes between calling 911 and the ambulance arriving. Help is on the way. The nightmare will end, or it will settle in. Lucky or unlucky. Win or lose.

Scully is not sure what she wants to hear. Three tests is quite definitive; pregnancy is unlikely. And what else is there? That her cycle has been thrown off by stress, that it’ll come back on its own time, don’t worry about it? That’s no comfort. She doesn’t want something to be wrong with her, but she knows something’s not right, and what’s worse than knowing that you don’t know? She and Mulder have lived in that hell for years. She can handle mysteries of the outside world, but what a cruel trick for her own body to blockade her.

Missy nudges her from the adjacent vinyl seat, elbow meeting bicep. “What are you thinking about?”

“How my mind doesn’t know what’s going on with my own body,” Scully replies dryly. “I mean, I know I have a tendency to close myself off, but I’ve cloistered myself so much I no longer know what I am.”

Melissa frowns. “Don’t you mean who? Who you are?”

“No.” Scully shakes her head, looks at her lap. In her darkest thoughts and most blistering nightmares, she is not human anymore. They desecrate her, ravage her body, and leave a memento in her skin, a touch of them. It’s so vivid it might be a memory. Mulder wants an alien; he may have one. That would be ironic, huh?

Can you learn to believe in yourself when you become something you never thought existed?

Can you still believe in God?

Every job she has dreamed of doing involves solving. Knowing enough to know what you don’t know, then figuring that out. Taking the pencil lines, shading them in. Seeking and finding and never wondering why. She cannot keep this up. There has got to be a meaning.

It is not enough, anymore, to simply wonder for the sake of wondering. To cast light over the darkness because you are tired of the darkness. Why? Is she doing it for Mulder, for the traumatized twelve-year boy locked inside him? Is she doing it for herself, fending off the fallibility, reconciling her belief with proof so that she can get off her own back? Or is she doing it because she was told to, because she is still the daddy’s girl who wants to please?

Twenty-nine years, and she is still coming to terms with herself. We are all our own x-file. We are all taking ourselves apart and piecing ourselves back together and looking for meaning and losing our minds.

Missy reaches over the wooden arm of the seat and pats Scully’s hand. Scully is reminded that she hasn’t yet ruled out the possibility that her sister is a mind-reader.

“Dana?” a nurse calls. Her first name feels so secondary that Scully feels certain they’re calling someone else.

“Right here!” Missy responds, getting up and pulling her sister along with her. Scully tugs her sister’s sleeve like a child might, wonders if Missy has ever considered motherhood.

Once in the corridor, they separate. The nurse takes Scully to get her vitals checked, while Melissa seeks out waiting room D, where the nurse’s flat voice--already tired from hours on the job--told her to wait.

It is not long before her sister joins her there.

“How was it?” Missy asks before Dana even manages to sit down.

Scully shrugs. She turns her left hand to show the pink bandaid on her index finger. “My iron levels are above average.”

“That’s not serious, right?”

“No, it’s usually a good thing.”

They sit quietly, listening to the staticky alt rock song coming through the speakers. They are alone in this particular area, but nurses and doctors bustle just around the corner from them.

Scully regards her sister with a latent curiosity. “Have you ever thought about having children?”

Missy turns to her, laughs. “What?”

Scully is somewhat perturbed by her sister’s nonchalant reaction. “Do you want to be a mother?” she reiterates. “It’s not something we’ve talked about since we were kids, so I was wondering.”

“If my life unfolds that way, then surely I think I’d enjoy it. But I’m not prioritizing it.”

“Ahh.” Her sister has always had a particular reverence for destiny.

“And besides,” Missy continues, “it could be hard, you know, with Trinity and all.”

It takes Scully a moment to realize what she means. “Oh.” That’s something she’s never had to worry about herself. She runs her finger along the grooves of her bandaid, feels her heart clench up for her sister. “There’s always adoption.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s a long, drawn-out process from what I’ve heard.”

“Mmm.” Scully nods, wondering how two women could have two such conflicting problems.

Before she can voice the irony of this, another nurse pops out from around the corner, peers at a clipboard. “Dana Scully?” Her voice is bright and chipper.

“That’s me,” Scully says, raising a hand to show the bandaid, her battle scar.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Missy pats Dana’s shoulder as she stands up. “I’ll stay here. Come get me if you need me.”

“Okay,” Scully breathes, grateful to be given her space yet to know support is right around the corner.

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

For someone that went to medical school--and enjoyed it, for that matter--Scully always feels much too out of place in a gynecology office. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. In textbook diagrams, in wall art, in her own flesh. Yet the 3D model of the reproductive system, the color-coded illustration of the uterus, and the various pamphlets on everything from STDs to birth control to what to expect postnatal smother her, serving as a fresh reminder that Catholicism’s tendency to repress haunts her still. She’s more bothered by her involuntary discomfort than what she sees.

Dr. Zapolsky enters, easing some of Scully’s nerves immediately. Tall and dark-skinned, she has been practicing medicine for 20 years, and Scully has been seeing her since she moved to Washington. She can be intimidating if you don’t know her, but she’s honest and extremely competent, two things Scully requires of her doctors. And herself.

“Hello, Dana.” Scully sits up straighter as the woman’s voice hits her eardrums. She’s admired Dr. Zapolsky for years, seeing her as an exemplary figure, someone that might have been a mentor to her had she put her medical degree to work. “What can I do for you today?”

There are few things Scully hates as much as being the patient. If she’s the patient, that means she has failed at being her own doctor. That means she didn’t know--and worse--didn’t think she could figure it out on her own.

She wrings her hands. “My cycle is over a week late, which is very concerning considering that it’s always been timely. I’ve been having migraines and nausea and nightmares, and I just know something is wrong.”

Dr. Zapolsky drops Scully’s file on the counter. “Well, the pregnancy portion of your urine test came back negative.”

“I took three drugstore pregnancy tests too, and they were all negative. That’s why I’m here.”

“Have you had any notable lifestyle changes over the past few months?” Dr. Zapolsky asks. “Anything out of the ordinary? Stress is a major contributor to fluctuations in the menstrual cycle, as I’m sure you know.”

Scully nods, gathers herself. Dr. Zapolsky is oblivious to the rabbithole she has just fallen into. “I was, um, abducted, about eight weeks ago, and I have no memory of it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky wheels her stool beside the medical chair. “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Yes,” Scully looks at her feet. They dangle a few inches above the tile like a child’s. Nothing new. She glances back at her doctor. “There isn’t much to say. I don’t know anything about what happened.”

“Well, tell me what you do know.” Then, seeing the apprehension on Scully’s face--”I’m not trying to play therapist, I just want to understand.”

Scully blinks slowly to keep from crying. It goes like this, it always does: she can manage the trauma until she has to say it out loud. This is a story no one wants to be in, but everyone wants to hear.

“I was taken by a man involved in a case that I worked on. Well, that my partner worked on, actually. I got involved--and long and complicated story short--the man broke into my apartment, bound my wrists and ankles, and stuffed me in his trunk. That’s the part I do remember. After the trunk, it’s all a blur really.”

The doctor furrows her brow. “How were you found?”

“I wasn’t found, I was returned. To the hospital. None of the staff had any idea how I got there, and I was bathed and cleaned by my abductors so no trace evidence was collected.”

“So no rape kit was done, then?”

Scully shakes her head.

The doctor uncrosses her legs, recrosses them with the opposite leg on top. “How long were you missing?”

“About a month...My mother bought me a gravestone, she didn’t think I would be found.” This is a detail she has never spoken out loud. Saying it feels like letting air out of an over-inflated balloon.

“I’m so sorry, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky lifts a hand, then puts it back in her lap. “May I hug you?” Scully nods and lets herself be embraced, though she does not feel it necessary. “That sounds like a horrific ordeal.”

Scully shrugs as best she can with Dr. Zapolsky’s arms wrapped around her. “It comes with the job.” Always modest about her suffering, she is.

Dr. Zapolsky speaks into Scully’s ear. “No, I don’t think it does.”

The doctor lets go. Scully doesn’t say anything. She curls the fingers of her left hand around her right wrist and squeezes hard enough to be certain that it’ll leave a mark.

Dr. Zapolsky slides her stool back over to the counter, flips through Scully’s file.

“I’d say the best course of action is to start with a blood test. I’ll check a few hormone levels---follicle-stimulating, anti-mullerian, luteinizing. That’ll give some insight into your pituitary gland function and your egg reserve.”

Scully nods along. Those hormones are complicated names she barely remembers, but she trusts it’s the right course of action.

“With that, we can determine whether this is a symptom of a larger problem, or if it’s simply a result of the stress you’ve been under. It should only take a couple days to get the results back.”

Scully nods, bites her lip. More waiting.

“Have you been seeing a therapist by any chance?” Dr. Zapolsky asks.

Scully shakes her head. Dr. Zapolsky should know her better than that.

“Well, I highly recommend it even to those who have not gone through any trauma. And for a survivor, it can truly be life-changing.”

A survivor. What is she, a war hero? That word is fitting for her father, who lived on the sea and sought eternal rest there. Not her.

“Thank you, but I’m okay.” Scully cannot meet her doctor’s glance.

“If you need any referrals, I can give you some names.” Dr. Zapolsky is just trying to help, Scully knows this, but this is not the help she came here for.

“The FBI has an on-site psychologist,” she says to close the subject.

“Oh, what a wonderful resource.”

“Most definitely.” Scully smiles weakly and ducks her head, ready to get out of here.

-------

There are many things she is afraid of, but physical pain is not one of them. The unknown, slow but certain death--these are the things that spook Dana Scully. When you’ve spent years being told that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, you are prepared to suffer for honor.

This is simply the prick of a needle, a relinquishing. Doctors used to prescribe it as the cure for any ailment, believing it to vanquish toxins from the body. Med school would have been a lot simpler if that were true.

She watches the blood flow out of her veins and into the vial. Some people can’t look; she can’t look away. Missy is seated in the chair next to her, chin resting in her palm after her offer to hold Scully’s hand was rejected. She traces the path of her sister’s blue eyes as they slide from her arm to the vial in the nurse’s hand. Dana has never been afraid to look--that’s the problem.

In an instant, it is done. The nurse smooths a bandage over Scully’s skin, tells her they will call with the results in a few days. And then it is two sisters, going, going, gone.

----------

They have a pleasant ride home, a soft and sisterly evening in. The prospect of Dana going back to Aubrey in the morning never even comes up, much to Melissa’s relief. Perhaps the illusion of normalcy her sister pedals in her head has finally given way to their unreal reality. They don’t waste a moment on the uncertainty circling them, instead curling up on the couch with popcorn and gummy bears for another Golden Girls marathon.

“Which one do you think Mulder is?” Missy asks during a slow moment in the episode.

“Huh?” Scully laughs. “Which Golden Girl, you mean?”

“Uh-huh.” Missy pops a red gummy in her mouth. “Or is he too interesting to be pinned down?” she teases, mimicking the swoony non-answer he gave about Scully some weeks ago.

“I don’t know honestly,” she says, pushing a blanket out of her lap. “I’m not sure that I know him well enough to decide.”

“You’re kidding.” Missy glares at her. Clearly her sister has not dropped the illusion after all.

“No, I’m not,” Scully intones, getting up to refill the gummy bear bowl. “And that reminds me, he wanted me to call.” She glances at the clock. It’s half past 8 there, so surely Mulder is back in his motel room.

Missy isn’t letting her off the hook that easily. She follows her sister into the kitchen. “Dana, I guarantee that you know him better than anyone else in the world. If they conducted a test on every single living human being’s knowledge of Fox Mulder, you would get the highest score.”

“Knowledge isn’t the same as understanding,” Scully murmurs, dumping the remaining gummy bears into the bowl.

“I’ll give you that, but you know what? You do understand him, you’re just too afraid to confront it.”

Scully wants to recoil, but freezes in place instead. It’s just as dramatic but gives less away. After a breath, she crumples the plastic bag into a ball and dunks it swiftly into the wastebasket.

She speaks rigidly, each word cutting through the air. “If I understood him, there would be no fear.”

Missy feels this in her chest--the aching, the truth in her sister’s voice. Dana is as close to crying as she ever gets. Missy strides over, clasps her sister’s hands in hers. “You don’t have to be scared.” She pulls her little sister in, squeezes her heart to Dana’s own. “He loves you. And I’m not talking about in a romantic way--I don’t know, maybe--but just in general. He loves you, and he would never hurt you.”

Scully’s eyes are glassy with tears now, but Melissa cannot see this in the midst of their hug. “Haven’t you ever been hurt by someone who loves you?” She says into Missy’s ear. “We never mean it, but it happens. It happens all the time.”

“And then you apologize, and you go on. Being hurt once doesn’t mean being hurt forever.”

“It can.” Scully pulls away, wipes her cheeks before her sister can overanalyze.

“It won’t, not with Mulder. I know enough about him to know that.” She brushes her sister’s hair out of her face. “If anyone was going to cut off the relationship, it would be you.”

“Wha--” Scully gives up the protest. She is partial to burning bridges that are prone to collapse, a last-ditch attempt at dignity. Yet Mulder doesn’t strike her as a bridge that would burn even if she set it aflame. Maybe that’s worse though, it prolongs the struggle.

“Hurting him would be worse than getting hurt,” Scully mutters.

“Loving him would be better than not loving him,” Melissa responds.

“The correct phrasing of that argument is ‘loving him would be better than being loved,’ if you wanted to copy my logic.” Scully gets curt and analytical when she’s annoyed.

“Hmm, well, consider that too.”

Their eyes meet and Scully can tell that neither one of them is going to win. “I’ve got to call him before it gets too late.” They both know who he is. She turns on her heels and heads for her room.

--------

He didn’t pick up the first time she called, which scared her more than she’s willing to admit. She sat cross-legged on her bed until the phone rang again about twenty minutes later, until she heard his voice on the other line.

“Hey Scully, sorry, I was out wrapping up the case.”

“Wrapping up?” She doesn’t even bother to say hello. “It’s over?”

“Open and shut...or, err, something like that.”

“What happened?” Her voice strains for no reason. She clears her throat.

“I’ll catch you up some other time,” he says breezily. “How’s Melissa doing?”

For a moment, Scully forgets her lie and tries to figure out why he’s asking about her sister and not her. Then--”Oh! She’s okay, yeah, it was a sprain like we suspected. Nothing broken on the x-ray. She can just about walk normally now, I think she’ll be off crutches by tomorrow.” Embellish, embellish, embellish. Missy had taught her to lie in the 6th grade, and she finally had some use for that knowledge.

“That’s great! I’m flying back tomorrow morning, I can be at the office by 10 if you wanna meet me there.”

“Will you tell me about the case? And BJ? How is she?”

“I’ll...I’ll tell you that tomorrow, Scully.” There’s a bit of gravel in his voice, which Scully has noticed comes out when he’s tired or holding back.

“Fine. Should I assume that by 10, you mean 10:30?”

“Well, you know how the line at the Dulles Chick-fil-A gets,” he wisecracks.

Something goes wrong between her brain and her tongue as she goes to wrap up the conversation. “Alright, 10:30. Love you, bye.”

Mulder makes a noise like a stifled laugh or a cough that couldn’t be held in. “What was that, Scully?”

Her face is flushed, and she’s thankful he can’t see it. “Sorry, I’ve been talking to Missy on the phone a lot lately. Habit.” The voice flowing out of her sounds calm and collected, like that was just an honest mistake. In a way it was...a much too honest one that has made her anything but calm.

“Oh, is that who you say that to?” he teases.

She laughs. Surely he couldn’t think there’s anyone else, could he?

“Just Missy, and maybe my mom.” She says it like a promise. He hears it like a prayer. Unusual, for both of them.

“Bye, Mulder,” she says, ushering any sentimentality away.

“Bye, Scully. Hate you. Oh, sorry--that’s what I say to my dad on the phone.”

Scully giggles into the phone. She’s still giggling as she sets the phone back on the hook.

Even after the call flat-lines, Mulder holds the phone against his ear like it’s a seashell echoing Scully’s giggle back to him.

#thank u thank u thank u for reading #and your comments in the tags #i LOVE reading those #pls keep it up <3 #only the light fic #the x-files #the x-files fanfic #txf #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #missy & scully fic #mine

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betelgeuse-boo · 4 years

Text

WARNING: NSFW !!!

If you are a minor or someone who does not want to see smut, please scroll past this post!!! Thank you!

Extensive Info/Warnings: Penetration, almost ‘caught in the act’, reader has breasts and a vagina and uses she/her pronouns

For @rhodochrosite-love; “How about Beej and a fem reader having some very loving sex but only realize they’re in the Deezlands living room when they’re caught by Adam and Barbara?”

Love this idea! I hope you’re okay with me tweaking it just a bit so that it’s almost being caught and not quite actually being found out! Thought that would add some excitement >w> Thank you so much for the ask!

Words: 3332

----------

“Almost Caught”

It was no secret that you and Beetlejuice had enjoyed each other’s presence. Between the constant flirting on both ends, abundant PDA, and overuse of pet names, everyone in the Deetz-Maitland household would usually distance themselves when you visited. Not because they didn’t enjoy your company, of course, but Beej would often hog you to himself and his overly doting attitude towards you would make all the other household inhabitants sick. Thankfully, you two had the house practically to yourselves today! ...The operative word being “practically”.

Adam and Barbara Maitland were housebound their afterlife, the only place other than their home that they were allowed to reside in being the Netherworld. They preferred to stay in the house that they shared with their strange gained family, and while they were often about in other rooms in the abode, they had recently learned to stay in the attic when you would visit after giving you a brief greeting. They always intended to flee before seeing Beetlejuice press a thousand kisses against you.

The house was quieter than usual as the Deetzes were gone- on a road trip to Vermont for some sort of convention Delia was interested in. After the ghostly married couple said their hellos to you and promptly dashed upstairs after BJ picked you up into a tight bear hug, you found yourself relaxing on the couch with your demonic partner. The green haired spectre was talking, at length, about how his week went, making sure to not leave out the details of eating an infestation of bugs that were found in the attic so that the Deetzes “wouldn’t have to call pest control”. You found yourself almost apprehensive as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, but as he informed you he had ‘taken care of’ the issue a couple of days prior, you figured it’d be okay to let him continue to smooch you. Hopefully...

Conversation between the both of you died down as he got lost in cuddling with you, his big, clawed hands holding you as gingerly as he could, the bulky demon taking turns between nuzzling you and peppering kisses all over your face. He was quite the sucker for both giving and receiving affection, and he always did an amazing job in making you feel loved. As he wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against his soft yet clammy body, he muttered against your neck.

“I missed you.”

It had only been about a week and a half since you last saw him in person, but your job involved traveling out of town a lot. You had been unable to summon him in partial fear of him wrecking the hotel you stayed at and in partial responsibility in desiring to get full nights of sleep so that you could perform adeptly at work. Of course, you had missed Beetlejuice and you were hoping to transfer to a job soon where you could stay in town so that you could spend more time with him.

“I missed you too, bug,” You replied, pulling away from him slightly to see him smiling at you, happy to hear that he was wanted. His relatively innocent sentimentality faded as the doofy grin transformed into a smirk, one of his hands sliding down your back and resting at your butt for a moment before he squeezed it with a crude chuckle.

“And I missed this too.” A chill traveled up your spine as the sensation of him touching you paired with the sound of his gravelly voice lowering ever so slightly to a more suggestive tone. Beetlejuice paused, his eyes finding yours, and you leaned forward to plant a kiss against his lips- intentionally banishing the bug eating anecdote he had given moments before to the recesses of your mind- cupping his ever so slightly warmer cheek with your hand.

You knew complimenting him like this would go to his head, but figured it was still worth telling him. “I...thought about you a lot while I was away.” With this, you trailed one of your hands down his chest and over his plush belly before groping ever so slightly at his crotch, eliciting a soft gasp out of him. Your bug’s gaze grew more intense as he somehow scooched even closer to you, continuing to idly rub and pinch at the fat on your butt. The demon moved in to kiss at your neck, making you shiver once more at the initial electric sensation the contact gave you. A halfway stifled gasp soon left you as he incorporated his sharp teeth- gently nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh, holding you flush against him.

While this was incredibly arousing, you couldn’t help but feel that doing this sort of stuff in the living room felt...odd. Like, the space was too open. “Do you think we should take this somewhere else?” You asked hesitantly, though there weren’t really many options to do more sensual stuff with BJ in the Deetz-Maitland household. The bedrooms, of course, were off limits, the Maitlands were currently in the attic, the kitchen just felt…wrong. You had normally only had sex with Beetlejuice when you had summoned him into your home instead of when you visited him at this location, and the one other time you had done anything sexual in this house was in the bathroom one night when everyone else was asleep.

Beej laughed against your neck and you jumped at the sensation of his cold breath hitting the saliva coated skin he had previously been sucking on. “There’s no one else home, babes. The married dorks are doing some project upstairs and you know they can’t hear shit up there. Especially when they get in their ‘zone’, heh.” As you were silent, he pulled away, removing his hands off you and holding them up. “If you want to stop we can-”

“-No!” You interjected, a bit more vigor in your reply than you anticipated, BJ smirking at the enthusiasm. “....Okay. If you’re sure the Maitlands won’t be able to hear anything then I’m fine doing it here.”

“That’s my girl.” Beetlejuice purred, clambering on top of you and cautiously pushing you down so that you were reclining on the couch, your neck propped up by the armrest. There was hardly enough room for his 6’5, 300 pound frame in this position on the couch, but he was determined in making you feel good after not having been able to for what seemed like forever to him. He began to rub at your sides, locking his lips with yours, that great big striped tongue of his quickly finding its way into your mouth. The two of you french kissed for a while, making up for lost time you guessed, before you felt Beej begin to rut against you, the both of you still fully clothed. A needy growl came from the demon on top of you as you could feel his erection press against your belly, and he had finally fully broken the kiss for the first time in what felt like ten minutes to comment that you were amazing.

While you normally graciously accepted his compliments, there was something about him praising you during sexual acts that made you red and almost bashful. You choked out a ‘thank you’ before he gave you one last, brief kiss on the lips and pulled slightly away from you so that he could undo your button down shirt, fumbling with the buttons as he was way too eager to see what was under the garment. You stifled a giggle and let him flounder before he groaned in annoyance at the damned buttons and snapped his fingers, your shirt momentarily going up in a puff of green smoke before dropping to the floor next to the couch. Thankfully, he got your bra off without a hitch, and he moaned softly at the sight of your chest. “God, I missed these too,” Beetlejuice sighed out, pinching at the nipple on your right breast and grinning at seeing you inhale at the sensation. “Did you think about me playing with your body like this?” His yellow sclera seemed to glow as he locked eyes with you, rolling his fingers over the nub achingly slow.

You quickly nodded in response, arching your back as electric arousal coursed through your body. Through having done intimate acts with you for some time now, Beetlejuice had gotten the hang of touching you in just the right ways. He always made it a point that he wanted you to be as turned on as possible and that seeing you aroused because of him was practically enough to get him to cream his pants. In other words, the ghost enjoyed playing with your body.

Pleased at your affirmation, a rumble left his chest and he placed his hand on your other breast, squeezing and groping at the whole thing instead of just the nipple. “I thought about your pretty little self under me just like this, baby. Thinkin’ bout it got me jerking off so much pretending I was fuckin’ you,” He said with a laugh, relishing in you squirming with pleasure under him. “Can’t wait to cum inside the real thing after so long.”

“It’s been a week and a half!” You giggled, voice quieter than usual as you found it difficult to speak when you were aroused.

“I said what I said. That’s too long.” He returned to laying over you, making sure not to place his entire weight against you as he preferred that you were breathing, and began to nip at your earlobe, hands still against your breasts. At this angle, you could smell the dust that was collected in his locks, of which were now steadily turning pink. He was a master with his mouth- he had used it for God knows how many things that he could now excellently position his lips, tongue, and teeth to make sure he was making you feel the best you possibly could. Whining as you could feel his cold breath in your ear, you reached your arm up and held the nape of his neck, holding him against you. The space in between your thighs was incredibly tingly now, in between not having done anything of a sexual nature in a bit and Beej being admittedly good at foreplay, you felt like you needed him that very second.

“I want you inside me now,” You murmured against him, and you heard him purr in response as he finished nibbling at your ear. Rising just a bit so he could plant his forehead against yours, he took a moment to catch his breath- you were still unsure on why exactly he still breathed despite allegedly not needing to.

“Okay, sweets,” He responded, getting off you and clumsily undoing your jeans, managing to get them off without magic too. As he pulled the waistband of your pants down, he brought your panties off with them too- it was clear he was also eager to get right into it. However, as you sat there expectantly, waiting for him to push you down once more, he left his hands on your thighs and swallowed before asking, “Is it okay if you, uh, get on top this time? It’s kinda...hard to really get leverage on the couch,” Looking almost flustered, he flashed you a questioning, toothy grin, and you nodded.

“Of course!” With this, Beej kissed your cheek and shifted so that he was in a similar position to the one you were just in, and you quirked an eyebrow. His signature two piece pinstripe suit was still on him. “Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”

He shook his head and yanked the waistband of his pants and boxers down, his dick springing up after he got his pants down to rest at his upper thighs. “Too lazy, plus I kinda’ like how warm fuckin’ with my clothes on makes me,” You wondered how he could possibly be too lazy to snap away his own clothes but you didn’t question it, wanting your bug to be as happy as he made you. After climbing on top of him, you played with his hair as you positioned yourself over his erection. Beetlejuice was in awe at the sight of your body, staring at your face and chest and hips and- he was suddenly squeezing his eyes shut, a long groan escaping him as you led him into you, half of his length enveloped by your warm vagina. One of his big, clammy hands found its way up to your hip, squeezing it as he rolled his own hips forward just a bit, pressing more of his dick inside of you. It didn’t take long before the both of you found a rhythm, you bouncing on top of him and him lazily rolling his hips under you.

Neither of you were particularly quiet either- and it only took a moment before pleasured noises and groans were coming from the both of you, only silenced partially when you caught his lips in a kiss. When you had gotten all of him inside you, you sat there and relished in the feeling of it for a moment. His dick was more than substantial for you; his dick always made you feel nice and full. The arousal was almost painful as you continued to bounce on him, feeling him grip at your hips and thighs and ass and- it took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that he had summoned his extra limbs to grope at more spots on you at once. Beej was hissing with pleasure and grumbling under his breath in his demonic language- he’d only really start speaking in the infernal tongue when he was really mad or really happy. It was easy to guess that the latter was the case in this situation. It was surprisingly arousing to watch him dip into his more arcane side, but it was as equally arousing when his eyes found yours and his gaze softened.

“F-fuck, baby, you feel fantastic around me,” Beej whined, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. Looks like using his suit as a sauna was working for him. He was choked up, almost overstimulated with pleasure, his claws pressing into your soft flesh. You couldn’t help but huff back in response as you continued to move your body on top of him, your own hands circling his chest and tummy.

“And you feel fantastic inside of me.” You moaned out, having to speak just a bit louder over the sounds of your body meeting his. One could say that Beetlejuice had a praise kink, as he whined at the slightest mention of being good for you. The demon was basically drooling at this point, basking in the euphoria that the very notion of pleasing you brought. His hands- all six of them that were currently on you- aided you in your motions now, shifting your body up and pulling it back down against him. His penis was throbbing inside of you- you could feel it, the demon was already nearing orgasm. It was cute how easily you got him to cum- your bug was initially embarrassed, thinking that it wasn’t desirable to be essentially a two pump chump, but you couldn’t disagree more. You loved making him feel good as he did you. Nothing was as arousing and gratifying as when he flooded any one of your openings with his cum, and it would often bring your own orgasm on prematurely too.

Trembling under you, you heard him beg for you to keep going, him all but singing your praises under you, losing his rhythm and just slamming his hips upwards now. He wasn’t lying, he was desperate to empty out his balls inside of you after a week and a half of having to get himself off, the poor thing. You were more than happy to accommodate- since he was a demon, he couldn’t get you pregnant due to some weird rules from the Nether. It was completely safe for him to make a cream pie out of you, and that’s honestly the way you preferred it anyways. It always felt weirdly dirty and you appreciated that.

“Th-that’s my bug,” You choked out, tears prickling in your eyes from the overwhelming euphoria encompassing all of you. Beetlejuice hummed at the nickname. “You’re almost there, baby.”

The two of you kept going for a few moments, the big demon under you whining your name out as he could feel the onset of his orgasm. Sharp claws sunk into you as he pulled you against him one last time, about to explode inside of your warmth- however, something seemed to grab his attention as his pointed ears perked up, his previously closed eyes snapping open. While you paused and were about to ask him what was wrong, he began to mutter “fuck” over and over, snapping his fingers. In an instant, all your clothes were back on, albeit messily, and your ghost was hastily pulling his pants and underwear over his erect cock- which was leaking copious amounts of pre-cum- and tucking his undershirt in.

“What-” Was all you managed to say before you jumped at a voice behind you.

“Hey, (Y/N), would you happen to know the name of that one animal you were telling us about?” You recognized the voice belonged to Adam Maitland, and it was coming from the top of the stairs. Awkwardly, you turned around to face him, wondering why in the world that was such a burning question that he had to come down unannounced. As you opened your mouth to respond, you could see Adam’s expression shift, and Barbara piped in too, walking out from the upstairs hall and standing behind her husband.

“Adam was saying that you said it was ‘capybara’ but that doesn’t feel right. Aren’t capybara those big rodents? The one we’re talking about are small ones.” It was Barbara’s turn to stare at the both of you- her eyebrows knitting together as she noted how… uncharacteristically unkempt you in particular looked. “Are we interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” Beetlejuice sarcastically responded, turning to face the couple too. You could see out of the corner of your eye that his hair was back to green, smidges of red running through it. “You’re thinking about a ‘jerboa’, Adam. Not a capybara.”

Adam’s face lit up with the realization that he had gotten the rodent’s name wrong. “Ahh, right.” His expression dropped after he noticed Beej scowling at him. “...Right, well, uh, thanks!” He quickly ducked out of view while Barbara stood still, quirking an eyebrow down at the two of you.

“What is it, Babs?” Beetlejuice sighed.

The blonde woman shrugged. “Maybe don’t do...that on the couch next time. If Delia notices a stain she’s gonna’ have your heads. I’d spray some Oxi-Clean on it if I were you.” With this, she turned and followed after her husband, leaving you and the demon feeling incredibly awkward.

A few moments passed before Beetlejuice stood up and said, “Welp, that was the worst thing to ever happen.” His expression softened as he looked at you and he ran his fingers through his mane, now back to its neutral green. “Sorry that was cut short. I could hear them leave the attic cause...y’know, superhuman senses and all.” He tapped one of his pointy ears.

You placed a hand on his thigh and smiled, finding humor in the situation. “It’s okay, Beej. It was fun.” Rising as well, you straightened your clothes out and planted a kiss against his chest. “...And besides, we can always try for round two at my place after we clean this couch.”

Pink strands began to jut through his locks again, a doofy grin once again finding its way onto his face. “Yeah. I’d like that, baby.”

#beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x self insert #beetlejuice x you #next time i may aim for less words #im proud of this but it took all day to write dfljfjk which is my own fault #also i didnt proofread like half of it -#sunny’s stories ☀️☁️

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sorry-i-spaced · 3 years

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Issues

Hawkeye is seen in the show as being a ladies man and quite the player. We know his mom died when he was just 10 and we know Caryle and Trapper both left without saying bye to Hawkeye. So I decided to play with the idea that he has abandonment and commitment issues because of this. I borrowed some of the dialogue from the episode “The More I see of You” in the beginning.

“If you’d gone into medicine with the same lack of conviction as marriage”

“Your work is always going to be the single most important thing in your life”

“Maybe you would have needed me a little more”

“Doug was able to commit”

“Commit”

Lack of conviction”

“Work….important...lack of conviction”

“Commit”

“Hawk? Hawkeye? Earth to Hawkeye! Anybody up there?” waved a concerned BJ.

“Huh? Oh,yeah, what?” shook Hawkeye as he came back to reality.

“Did you say something?” asked Hawkeye realizing he had zoned out big time.

“Yea, I was asking if you wanted to get dinner. I heard Igor was sick of all the grief we gave him so he made an upside down dinner in retaliation.”

Hawkeye sat there contemplating whether food was more important than wallowing in self pity for the way he let things get between Carlye and him.

“Nah, I think I’m just going to nap. We are supposed to get a heavy influx of wounded by dawn and I want to catch up on sleep.” And with that BJ got up to leave and Hawkeye laid down in his army issued mess of a cot and shut his eyes.

“Incoming wounded! All Medical and Surgical staff report for triage! Looks like it will a doozy” barked the PA system.

Opening his eyes Hawkeye threw his pillow in the direction of Beej.

“Get up” he yelled.

The red haired man rose (wait that’s not right Beej has blonde hair)

“Did you dye your hair and forget to tell me?” asked the raven haired man confused.

“Not that I’m aware of” called back the other man as he was putting on his shoes.

The two quickly ran out the door.

In triage Hawk got right to work.

“This one has a chest wound. Get some blood in him and get him prepped”

“This one can wait”

Hawkeye barked orders to the nurses. He got up and made a run for the O.R.

“Hawkeye! How goes it?” asked Klinger, who was running in the same direction as him.

Boom!

“Ahh!” yelped Klinger as he threw his head forcefully into the dirt.

Hawkeye stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the man. Cocking his head to the side he says, “ Klinger, a landmine went off. You’re fine. Get your head out of the dirt this instant. Anybody looking on would think you're bucking for a section 8 again. By reason of ostrich.

“I’m not acting sir” deadpanned Klinger as he lifted his head, shaking the dirt out of his hair.

Hawkeye blinked and shook his head. Klinger was right, he was an ostrich through and through.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“I’ve always been one sir. You just couldn’t tell since I spend so much of my time in dresses confident I can get out of the Army. But to be honest I’m scared as shit. Scared of dying and scared I won’t ever return to Toledo the same as I left.”

The two were now in the scrub room. Hawkeye was washing up.

“So Beej dyes his hair and forgets to tell me and you're an ostrich?What else will happen today.”

“Beej didn’t dye his hair. He is a robin.”

“A robin? As in the bird?” questioned Hawkeye as he patted his hands dry.

“He is a songbird. Yes. If you don’t believe me just look at him yourself.”

The two had somehow ended up in the O.R and Hawkeye was at a table picking apart peacock feathers. Hawkeye looked up and to his surprise Beej was in fact a big fat plump red robin - complete with wings and a beak.

Looking at Klinger Hawkeye was left to wonder, “why?”

“He left his baby girl very early on in her life.”

Again Hawkeye had moved from the O.R back into the scrub room. These abrupt scene changes were getting awfully annoying.

“We all left family to be dragged to this God Forsaken Hell Hole. Why should he be so special.”

“Well for much of the same reason that I’m scared he feels guilty about leaving during such a crucial part of his little girl's life.”

“My mom left me early on in life, I turned out fine.” Hawkeye spat back.

Hawkeye who realized he was sitting on the bench leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes. Pursing his lips together he began to ask more questions trying not to dwell on the fact his mom left him.

“So Beej is guilty and you're scared. Is there anyone else I should know about?”

Silence. Klinger was trying to figure out what to say. This was all coming out too fast. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. His job was to help propel the story along and these observations were supposed to happen naturally. Well as naturally as having birds operate on patients who just see the shell of the person not the bird. But no this man was too smart for even his unconsciousness. Finally he began to speak, slowly hoping he wouldn’t reveal too much.

“Our fearless leader Potter is a bald eagle because he is insecure in his talents. He is a career man - as I’m sure you’re aware of. But he lacks the knowledge of all these fancy techniques you young doctors seem to pick up so easily. Margaret is a puffin because all she wants to do is be accepted by everyone. Frank is a hummingbird because he is annoying as all shit and is very insecure due to it. Oh and you’re a peacock.”

That got Pierce to shoot up like a bean pole.

“Wait! Aren’t you going to tell me why I’m a peacock?” his voice raised and wavered a bit.

“Sorry sir, you’ll have to figure that one out on your own.

“What why? Klinger, you gotta tell me! Come on we know everyone else’s insecurities, why can’t I know my own?”

Klinger didn’t know how to respond. He knew he had 3 sets of 10 minutes and 1 set of an hour of time to try and get Hawkeye to learn why he is a peacock. But he also knew it was up to his subconscious to interact with his unconscious to help move the narrative.

“Ow!” yelped Hawkeye breaking the silence.

“What the hell was that?”

Not even Klinger had an explanation.

All of sudden a flying pillow came out of nowhere.

Klinger now understood what was happening. Someone was trying to wake Hawkeye. There little mental party would be ending soon.

“Hawk” echoed a ghostly sound.

“Why are you calling me a Hawk, I thought you said I was a peac-”

His eyes shot open! Looking down at him were a pair of blue eyes. Beej

“What? What happened?” Hawkeye asked as he began to get up.

“Wounded” called Beej as he put on his converse.

“Suction! So yea, don’t know what any of that means but thought I’d share my dream with the rest of the class,” said Pierce as he tried to stop a bleeder his patient had come in with.

“That’s scary accurate. Especially my fear. How did you pin us all down like that?” called BJ concentrating on his own bleeder.

“Pierce, are you good with birds? Seems like you pinned us to an appropriate matching bird” called Potter.

Hawkeye was now working on closing up the patient, “I’ve gone bird watching with my dad back in Maine. One time when I was a kid, right when mom died, he decided to get his mind off her death he was going to do a Big Year. I would come along on bird watching expeditions during school breaks and weekends. But I still would like to know why I’m a peacock. Of all the birds to be.” called Hawkeye.

“If it bugs you that much, why don’t you ask Sidney the next time he comes up for Poker.” said BJ when they were back in the Swamp.

They were finally out of surgery and the two swamp rats were playing tennis with a blown up surgical glove they took from the scrub room.

A week later, before Poker was supposed to take place, Sidney was set up in the VIP tent chatting with Hawkeye.

“So you dreamt about everyone’s fears personifying and taking the form of birds? What do you think it means?” lead the Psychiatrist.

“I don’t know Sidney, you tell me, you’re the expert on these types of things.” pleaded Hawkeye, who had taken up pacing around the tent.

“Hawk, I want you to get to that conclusion yourself. It won’t be helpful if I do it for you.”

Hawkeye stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of the bed. “What do you want to hear. I want to be as helpful as possible. In my dream Klinger said basically the same thing.”

“Humor me and tell me about your childhood, that’s always a good place to start when talking about fears and issues,” claimed Sidney.

“My childhood. What do you wanna know” asked Hawkeye.

“How was your relationship with your mom?”

“Nonexistent. I’ve told you before she died when I was 10. Just been dad and I since then.” replied Hawkeye flatley.

“Do you have any resentment towards her dying?” pried Sidney.

“You know dad didn’t even tell me she was sick? He waited until she passed to come clean and tell me. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I was angry for years. At her for getting sick and at dad for not having the decency to tell me she was sick. But I got over it. No hard feelings”

Rambled Hawk.

“Ok, so issues from mom, how about dad?”

“Dad? Oh he was great! After mom died we became thick as thieves. He was the one who inspired me to go into medicine. He wasn’t too happy about it to be honest.” gleaned Hawk.

“I remember you telling me last time I was here that there was a nurse here that you had an old fling with. How did that end?”

“Caryle. I really don’t know what happened. We were living together during residency you know.”

Raising an eyebrow Sidney interjected, “ So you guys were serious?”

“That’s what I thought.” continued Hawkeye. “But just like mom and just like Trapper did 6 months ago, she up and left. I didn’t get to say bye or anything. She just one day decided she had enough of me, packed her bags and was out of the apartment before I even had time to get home and try and stop her. I thought Trapper would have at least left something. But I guess not. I guess I’m just not worth the hassle to say bye too. God. Why did dad not let me tell mom bye. Her own son was in the dark. I get Caryle and Trapper. It was bound to happen. Unhappy relationship and discharge but God, mom? Really? I hated her for it you know. I just wish once someone would leave and tell me about it first. Why do I always have to be the last to know. I bet the thing I got going on with Beej will end just as abruptly as it did with Trapper.” rambled on Hawkeye.

“Hawkeye, stop a minute, let’s process all that you said.” steered Sidney realizing he was losing his patient rapidly.

Hawkeye shut up and listened.

“You mention over and over that you never got to say goodbye to all these people. You also mention being the last to hear of relationships ending.”

“Yea, so?” sighed Hawkeye.

“Let’s go back to the dream. In the dream you describe each of your friends as birds relating to their fears and issues. Beej - your best friend is a robin because he is guilty for leaving his baby girl. Klinger is an ostrich - which I never would have pegged him as so thank you for that lovely image - because he is scared and fearful he won’t return home and if he does he will be completely different. Potter is a bald eagle because he is insecure in his abilities despite being a career man in the army. Margaret is a Puffin because she has the fear that she will never fit in anywhere so she forces herself to. And Frank is a hummingbird because he is insecure in his own way and -”

“ - a peacock for commitment issues” finished Hawkeye.

“Precisely. It seems like you are scared to trust people because everyone seems to leave you at some point. Starting way back when your mom left you abruptly. Oh also in my own professional diagnosis I would also tack on abandonment issues” added Sidney.

“What gives Sid, I thought you were going to let me come to the conclusion on my own accord.” whimpered Hawkeye.

“Eh, I see how hard you’re trying to figure this all out, so I decided to give you a freebie” laughed Sidney.

“Well in true Freud fashion, my issues really do stem from my mother,” laughed Hawkeye sadly.

The two sat for another hour trying to brainstorm ways Hawkeye could push past these thoughts of abandonment and commitment issues and how he could overcome them.

The End!

#mash #fanfic #birds #freud #hawkeye pierce #klinger #sidney freedman #fears #issues

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mcjoelcain · 3 years

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How to set SMART Goals (and win BIG this year)

Let’s be honest: people suck at goal setting.

Even when we really want to do something, we have a hard time achieving it.

(Need proof? Just consider that the vast majority of New Year’s resolutions fail by February.)

But, it’s not our fault. Nobody teaches us how to really achieve what we set out to do. They don’t teach us how to make smart objectives.

That’s because the problem with how you set goals is that they rely too much on human willpower — which we have a very finite amount of each day. Relying on it all the time takes away from that willpower until it’s depleted entirely.

Fortunately, there are other ways to set goals so that you can actually achieve them.

Bonus: Want to know how to make as much money as you want and live life on your terms? Download my FREE Ultimate Guide to Making Money

Examples of turning bad goals to good goals

EXAMPLE #1: HEALTH

TERRIBLE GOAL: “I want to get fit.”

BAD GOAL: “I want to lose 10lbs.”

GOOD GOAL: “I want to eat 3 healthy meals per week and go to the gym 2x/week for 15 minutes.”

Notice how we’re focusing on the process at first, and starting off conservative: Anyone can eat just 3 healthy meals in a week. And anyone can go to the gym for 15 minutes. Set yourself up to win.

The next step is to make it easy: on your calendar, set 1 hour on Sundays to buy 3 healthy meals and leave them in your fridge, packed and ready to eat. Also set two 1-hour slots for the gym (leaving time for travel).

Here’s how this looks for other big goals:

EXAMPLE #2: FINANCES

TERRIBLE GOAL: “I need to get better with money.”

BAD GOAL: “I want to save $1,000 this year.”

GOOD GOAL: “I want to have $40 per paycheck automatically transferred to my vacation savings fund for 1 year.”

EXAMPLE #3: SOCIAL SKILLS

TERRIBLE GOAL: “I want to have better social skills.”

BAD GOAL: “I want to work on my storytelling so I’m not so awkward at parties.”

GOOD GOAL: “I want to take the improv class in my city every Monday night for 6 weeks.”

There’s a simple formula for transforming big goals into actionable steps…

Bonus: Want to finally start getting paid what you’re worth? I show you exactly how in my Ultimate Guide to Getting a Raise and Boosting Your Salary

What are SMART goals?

SMART goals are the cure for vague, aimless New Year’s resolution goals like:

“I want to go to the gym every day.”

“I want to get rich.”

“I want to travel more.”

On the surface, they all seem like good goals. However, they fall prey to the big three sins of goal-setting:

They unspecific. Sure, you “want to travel more,” but what does that really mean? When are you going to get it done? Where are you going to go? Vagueness is the enemy of good goal-setting.

They’re unrealistic. Oh, so you want to “get rich” this year? Are you willing to put in the hard work and sweat equity it’ll take to negotiate a raise, find a higher-paying job, or start a side hustle? Most likely not.

They’re based on willpower — not systems. Human willpower is limited. Sure, you might start out going to the gym every day, but as time goes on you’ll have to use the finite amount of willpower you have to keep it up. Eventually, you abandon the goal altogether.

Setting a SMART goal will help you avoid all of these pitfalls. Let’s breakdown how to do it.

SMART Objectives are:

Specific

Measurable

Attainable

Relevant

Time-oriented

So how do you convert a goal like “get fit” into a SMART objective?

I created this checklist to use every time you have a new goal.

Checklist for writing a SMART Objective

Specific: What is the precise outcome I’m looking for?

What will you achieve?

What does it look like? (What do you see in your mind when you picture yourself working towards your goal?)

What is the action step?

Measurable: How will I know I’ve accomplished the goal?

How will you know if you’ve reached your goal or not? There are different levels of “healthy” or “financially sound.” Avoid words that may have vague meanings like, “learn” or “feel” since you can’t measure them. Instead, use action verbs like “run,” “save,” or “write.” Then, turn those words into quantifiable benchmarks.

You need to be able to answer the question, “Did I get it done? If not, how much further do I have to go?”

How will you know when it is done?

What are some objective benchmarks you can hit along the way?

Would someone else be able to tell that it’s complete?

Is it quantifiable?

Attainable: How realistic is this goal?

My mentor BJ Fogg talks a lot about Tiny Habits — little things that start us on the path to success. The best way to achieve a goal is not to rely on motivation, but instead make it ridiculously easy for your future self to do the right thing. Instead of committing to running 5 days a week, start with one day and move up from there.

Are there available resources to achieve the objective?

Do you need a gym membership, a new bank account, new clothes?

Am I set up to do this even when I don’t have “motivation”?

Are there any time or money constraints that need to be considered? Am I being too ambitious to start out? (Remember you can always be more aggressive with your goal later on.)

Relevant: Is this a priority in my life right now?

Ask yourself, in the scheme of all the things you want to try, do you really care about this? When I went to my cousin’s wedding in India a few years ago, I saw one of my friends order his food in fluent Hindi, and I thought, “Hmmmm…I should take Hindi lessons.” But when I got back to NYC, I put it on my to-do list, only to skip over it for MONTHS. The truth is, I really didn’t care enough to try and learn Hindi. It wasn’t important enough. When I acknowledged I wasn’t going to do it and crossed it off my list, it freed me up to focus on doing the things that I really wanted to do.

Why am I doing this?

Is this a priority for me?

Will it compete with other goals in my life?

Time-oriented: When will I be finished with the goal?

Give yourself a deadline to reassess your goal. And put it on the calendar! I like to re-evaluate my goals every 3-months to make sure they are still Attainable and Relevant.

Is there a deadline?

Did I put it on the calendar?

Will I know in 3 months if I’m on the right track?

Bonus: Want to fire your boss and start your dream business? Download my FREE Ultimate Guide to Business.

SMART Goal Examples

Using this framework, you’ll be able to turn any vague lofty goal into an actionable SMART goal.

For instance:

Bad goal: “I want to be healthier.”

Why it’s bad: It’s vague and not measurable. How do you know when you’re healthier?

SMART goal: “I want to eat three low-fat, low-calorie meals per week and go to the gym at least once a week.”

Why it’s good: Now you have an actionable system with solid metrics to help you see if you’re on track. You’re not just getting healthier. You’re eating three healthy meals and going to the gym each week.

Now do the same for your goal. How can you make it specific, measurable, attainable, realistic, and time-oriented?

Actually achieve your goals with habit loops

Once you’ve set a SMART goal, habits are the systematized solution to making sure you follow through and actually achieve your goal.

According to Charles Duhigg, habit expert and author of The Power of Habit, every habit you build has three parts to it:

Cue. This is the trigger for a behavior.

Routine. This is the behavior in action.

Reward. This is the benefit you receive from the behavior.

Altogether, this creates something called a “Habit Loop,” which allows your habits to stick.

And at the heart of any good Habit Loop is a good reward. In fact, it might just be the most important aspect of building good habits.

That’s because it has the biggest impact on whether or not we stick with the behavior.

Let’s take a look at an example: Working out.

A typical approach to this might look like this:

You go to the gym.

You work out on the machines for 30 minutes.

You go home.

Here’s what it would look like if you implemented the Habit Loop:

Cue. You head to the gym when you wake up.

Routine. You work out at the gym.

Reward. You get a delicious breakfast when you’re done.

See the difference? One will likely result in you giving up the habit after a few weeks (or even days), while the other greatly boosts your chances because you’re rewarded for your behavior.

It subverts having to rely on willpower, because you reward yourself for achieving your goals.

THAT’S the power of a good reward.

Of course, it can work negatively for you as well. For example, smoking cigarettes.

A habitual, pack-a-day smoker is someone who has ingrained a Habit Loop that causes them to smoke cigarettes. Here’s what that Loop looks like:

Cue. You wake up, or it’s lunch time, or work just got done, or you’re stressed — most anything can be a cue for smokers.

Routine. You smoke a cigarette.

Reward. You receive a euphoric buzz from nicotine.

Luckily, rewards can be used to counteract this. For example, whenever you get the urge to smoke a cigarette you go on a walk, or listen to music, or drink a soda. Whatever healthy reward can be used to replace your routine of smoking a cigarette.

Bonus Tip: Use a Commitment Device

A commitment device is a method of locking yourself into a habit or behavior that you might otherwise not want to do.

And there are essentially two types of commitment devices:

Positive devices. These are devices that give you a positive reward for performing different tasks. The idea is that when you associate that task with the commitment device, you create a positive feedback loop that makes it much easier to cement new habits.

For example:

Listening to your favorite podcast while you work out.

Watching a show on Netflix while you clean your living room.

Drinking your favorite soda while you’re washing your dishes.

Negative devices. These are devices where you take something away or risk having something taken away to encourage you to follow through with a behavior or habit. The idea is that you force yourself to focus on the task by taking away the thing that is preventing you from focusing, or you do something that makes you risk losing something to force you to complete your task.

For example:

Telling a friend that you’ll give them $100 if you don’t go to the gym every day for a month.

Unplugging your television so you won’t be tempted to watch it.

Throwing away all of your junk food in order to eat healthily.

While they’re called positive or negative devices, that doesn’t mean that one is better than the other! They’re just ways of describing how the commitment devices work. And whether or not you choose a positive or negative device depends entirely on your preference and what you want to achieve.

Commitment devices are incredibly effective too. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Harvard released an article a while back penned by three doctors in behavioral economics that extolled the virtues of commitment devices.

“[Commitment devices] have been shown to help people lose weight, improve their diets, exercise more, and quit smoking,” the article says. “One randomized experiment, for example, found that access to a commitment device increased the rate at which smokers succeeded in quitting after six months by 40%.”

One effective commitment device is to use a social media scheduling dashboard like Hootsuite or Buffer to schedule an embarrassing tweet or Facebook status to be posted at a certain hour. This commitment device is good for time- or location-based goals. As long as you get to the dashboard before it posts, you can prevent it from posting.

For example, say you want to get into the habit of waking up at 6am. You could schedule a tweet to be sent out with an embarrassing message or photo of yourself at exactly 6:05am. That way, if you’re not up by 6, that message will post.

Build habits for life

To accomplish any goal, you need to establish good habits.

To help you crush any goal you set out for yourself, we want to offer you something we’ve worked on to get you there:The Ultimate Guide to Habits: Peak Performance Made Easy

In it, you’ll learn the actionable steps to crush any goal through smart habits, including:

How to set goals — the RIGHT way

How to create and implement winning keystone habits

How to make any habit last forever

Just enter your name and email below and I’ll send it straight to your inbox.

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How to set SMART Goals (and win BIG this year) is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Money https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/smart-objectives/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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glumpiglet · 4 years

Text

A Misunderstanding (F!ReaderxBeetlejuice)

So I made another one of these, I’m a greedy little bottom and only the thought of bug boi can satisfy me….. This is the point where I tell you I’m shamelessly self-inserting myself as the reader at this point. I’ve not done a lot of Xreader writing, so I’m learning I’m not great at making characters neutral, there are multiple things that just uh ... seemed to serve where I wanted the story to go so I used it XD sorry peeps I’m so bad

p.s thanks again to @boopeen for making the prompt post. I’m sure this wasn’t what they were thinking it would be used for XD

p.p.s my requests are open so slide into them if you feel so inclined. Love you guys <3

TW: Swearing, Drug Use, sprinkle of angst.

Angst: “I don’t want to do this anymore,”

Fluff: “please hug me, I really need it.”

Walking through your front door, you had to expel a sigh in relief, another long day at work done. Hanging up your purse and keys, you expected to be ambushed. Confused at the lack of.. Well any life in your apartment. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

Calling out for the company who you left this morning; you weren’t summoning him half as much lately. It seems to be he was just….. Sticking around.

“Hello?”

Where the hell was he? Inspecting the apartment for any trace, you came up empty. Part of you didn’t want to risk bothering him if he was actually busy with something.

On the other hand, you were selfish. There was only one way you wanted to spend your evening.

“Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice.” As per usual, you braced yourself for the explosion that was the arrival of your BFF from beyond the grave.

Silence.

Shrugging, you turned towards your bedroom. He was either actually busy, or trying to scare you. Most likely the latter, you weren’t exactly in the mood for a spook right now. You voiced that opinion out loud, and got no response.

The lights were off in your room, a chill in the air causing goosebumps on your arms.

In the corner, you could see two glowing orbs in the blackness.

You always were a jumpy person. You could run into a stranger turning a corner on a sidestreet, and scream bloody murder. A certain someone loved to use that to his advantage.

Nerves tense, you turned on the light. Ready for any amount of shock and horror that awaited you. Your eyes took in your normal bedroom. Rolling them, you took a step forward into the room, ready to call out once again.

“Boo.”

Luckily you were able to stop yourself from making any sound other than a gasp, whirling around to almost bump noses with Beetlejuice. Heart pounding, you reached out to shove him in the chest.

“Asshole!” Scooped up tight in his cold embrace, it was impossible to not feel the flush of utter happiness of seeing him after the day you had. All he had to do was give you that earnest crooked smile and you were already forgiving him.

“Mmm.. Watch your language, babes. Or I might have to spank you.” Chuckling in his arms, you took stock of Beetlejuice practically glowing green. Someone was feeling good.

“Hello, BJ. How was your day?”

“Great! I spent the morning scaring people in your hallway, I think I permanently scarred the guy two doors down, it was so hilarious!” Continuing to giggle as you extracted yourself from his grip, you turned towards the vanity, beginning the task of taking make-up off, removing your jewelry.

BJ watched you in the mirror, as always invading your personal space, murmuring into your hair.

“Then I had to...Go back for something..” The vagueness of his demeanor made you pause. Beetlejuice was always open and honest, perhaps a bit too much, actually definitely too much at all times. It was a trait that in equal parts you admired while simultaneously it annoyed you.

“Yeah, I got home and I was like, ‘where is he?’” Finished, you gently pulled him by his lapels. Taking the short trip through the hallway to the living room, depositing him on your sofa and sitting beside him. Taking his arm to wrap around your shoulder, you made yourself comfortable, knowing for a fact Beetlejuice would not mind in the slightest.

“Aw, miss me that much, babes?”

“Maybe…” Reaching out to take the remote. You turned the t.v on just for the background noise, some episode of a show you had seen multiple times. Snuggling further into BJ, you couldn’t stop your heart racing once more as his hands began to wander, running down your sides to rub at your thighs.

“Hell yeah, this is what I’m talking about,” Scoffing at how he could take any affectionate moment and instantly make it sexual, not that you were helping matters by throwing yourself over him. Before he got too carried away, you linked your fingers with his and held them in your lap.

“Be quiet please,”

This was the part of your day you could always look forward to, BJ had been teaching himself to chill out recently. It was hard to come home from work daily to a feral, sexually charged adolescent bouncing off your walls. You weren’t trying to change BJ, god no it was completely give and take, you were good for each other. He gave you spontaneous fun, letting you not take things too seriously. In contrast, you were trying to explain to him why some things were important to breathers, why you had to go to work everyday, pay the bills, etc.

It was becoming difficult to keep your eyes open. Feeling yourself slowly drifting off, you were dozing off on your friend…

Very few ‘friendships’ you had ever had involved as much cuddling as you did with Beetlejuice. Sure, nothing was ever run of the mill when it came to the demonic hurricane that was the self proclaimed ghost with the most. Not to mention the flirting. And long, quiet moments just gazing at each other, so close your breaths would intermingle…

Beetlejuice’s scent was one of the first hurdles you had to deal with in the beginning. You did realize you were hanging out with a dead guy, nothing could be done for his overall awful appearance.

In your youth, you had briefly wanted to be a mortician, morbid change of topic nonetheless, but you had the chance to experience a lot of dead bodies in that time. You didn’t ultimately go through with the career, but those memories always stuck with you.

So you were horrified when you first came in close contact with him, which was within the first two seconds of meeting, for he truly smelt dead. The association of it was the oddest sense of deja vu. The pungent, off smell was something you tried to ignore for as long as you could, not wanting to appear rude.

One time, the two of you were just sitting around the house all day, and you were asking him questions. About Death. The Netherworld. His life before you had known each other.

When you broached the topic of if he ever bathed, it seemed to confuse him. You knew it had been a stupid question, why would he? He had never been alive. Nor did he ever stay corporeal for long, before he met you. Stupid breather things like hygiene didn’t matter in the Netherworld.

“Would….you want me to start?” The question had been so tentative, you immediately felt bad for opening your mouth.

“No..No Beetlejuice, you’re right. You’ve never had to before, you don’t have to start now. I’ll get used to it.”

The matter was dropped and you had pulled him closer, insistence on squeezing tighter to prove to him it didn’t truly matter.

The next day you came home to your house in chaos. It looked like there had been a flood, water was everywhere and clones were on hands and knees with towels. At your appearance, there was a brief moment in time where everything stood still. You were standing in the doorway with eight pairs of eyes on you.

Then they attacked.

“She’s not supposed to be home yet!”

“Boss is gonna kill us!”

“Shut up, idiot!”

“Hey babes! Lookin’ good today.”

“Funny story, sweetness. Just a little accident,”

Hands grabbed at your arms, curving along your back as they led you into your living room, where the water luckily had not reached.

“Wait-wait. Everybody calm down. What’s happened?” Confusion did not abate as you saw Beetlejuice shuffle in from the hallway, looking unbelievably contrite. His head turned down, he wouldn’t even meet your eye as he mumbled out a:

“Hey,”

Expressing your bewilderment again, you shooed the hands off of you. You weren’t angry, but you were beginning to feel your hair begin to rise at the fact no one was actually giving you an answer.

“Sorry..We uh..might of kind of….floodedyourbathtub.” Not catching the whispered end, you stayed puzzled. Realizing something else was different, other than the disorder, you finally took notice of him.

He looked….Well he looked hot as fuck. You had never seen him in such a state of undress. His jacket and tie was gone, his cuffs rolled up to expose masculine forearms. He was also… surprisingly clean. His shirt was still dirt ridden, but the skin underneath shined porcelain. The sight of him without the usual grime that accompanied him made you pause.

Nothing could stop the flush you felt working its way over your face, if he knew he was making you blush you’d never hear the end of it, you had to stop before he noticed.

Eyes snapped back to his face.

“Your hair’s wet...Why-....Did you shower?” Looking from clone to clone, you noticed them all in different states of wetness/cleanliness. Some looked like they didn’t even get washed.

“You’re all wet…..Did you guys all shower together?”

The picture was beginning to form in your head, you couldn’t stop the incredulous giggle from the image of them all cramming into your one person bathroom.

“....Are you mad?”

Looking at Beetlejuice, you saw the anxious, fidgety demon trying to appear remorseful. He was too fucking cute, were you mad about him trying to clean himself up after you had selfishly told him he stunk? Opening up the floodgates, you began to laugh heartily, reaching out to hug him.

It was weird. He smelt the same, but different. His usual pungent stench you associated with death wasn’t gone completely, but it definitely wasn’t making your eyes water. Mostly, he smelt earthy, like a field after it rained. There was another familiar smell that was making you feel nostalgic, you realized it was probably because he used he Irish Spring you kept for emergencies, of course he would use the big green bottle, your silly bug.

“You’re so funny. Why would I get mad? It was an accident,” Shaking your head, you tried not to give a name to the fluttering in your stomach, and turned towards the nearest clone, running your hand through his damp locks, listening to him preen into your palm.

“Maybe next time, just do it one by one please,” Grabbing the towel from the clone’s grip, you walked to the edge of the puddle in your house and dropped the towel, soaking up the water.

Turning around, you felt the prickle of discomfort on your skin as you saw them all still staring. You loved the clones, thought they all had their own personalities and had more fun hanging out with them than your actual friends most times.

It still never failed to make you uneasy when they did this, observing you like prey. You couldn’t tell what they were collectively thinking, and their boss certainly wasn’t helping.

“Seriously, it’s just water guys, really it’s fine. Look nothing was even damaged.”

“Come on, I’ll help you finish.”

So that’s how you spent the rest of your day, mopping and rotating the towels they used until the floor was just damp, and called it good enough. That night, you had a full cuddle puddle with them all as you watched scary movies till dawn.

He had even started brushing his teeth for you. The first time you had walked in on him, fangs and droopy tongue covered in foam as it looked like he was attempting to choke himself with the extra toothbrush you kept in your cabinet. Not that you ever expected anyone else to use it other than yourself when your old one had lost the bristles, but the idea of BJ taking the second slot in your toothbrush holder made you pause. The heavy feeling in your chest coupled with the affection you couldn’t help but feel. You knew you were in trouble.

You were in love with Beetlejuice.

Being shook, you jolted out of your slumber. Opening your eyes, you realized you had fallen asleep on him. You expected him to maybe make some snarky comment that he wasn’t a pillow, but he just looked at you with an expression hard to place.

Mumbling out an apology, you remove yourself from on top of him, walking out of your room into the kitchen, catching sight of BJ floating beside you.

“Tired?”

“Just a long week, thank god tomorrow Friday.” Opening your fridge, you grimaced. It was time for some grocery shopping. Just deciding on an apple for the moment, you heard Beetlejuice rasp over your shoulder.

“It’s okay, sweet cheeks. I got just the thing for you to suck on.”

Spinning around, poised to throw a jab, the momentum left when you took sight of BJ looking at you mischievously, hand outstretched with a large joint between his pale fingers.

No amount of stubbornness could stop the smile on your face. Beetlejuice was incorrigible.

You snatched it from his hands as he giggled as mischievous as a child, you opened up your living room window and sat on the nook you so love to habitat often. Amused as BJ, just as you had on the couch, practically circled into your lap like a house cat. Not being able to fit himself, he huffed and settled his head on your legs instead.

Your landlord luckily was a 60 year old hippie that grew in your community backyard, you still didn’t need your place reeking of weed. Especially with the potent Netherworld shit he brought around.

Passing the joint back and forth, BJ blew intricate smoke rings around your head. Shaking your head, loving it, shifting through your hair. Blaming the high, gaining courage from the stuff, you began to attempt your own rings, amused at how they couldn’t keep shape. You loved the blanketing feeling that was passing over you.

Beetlejuice was practically purring, nuzzling into your legs. Without thinking, you began to scratch at his head. You really didn’t need a pet when you had BJ around. Watching as pink peeked through his roots, Beetlejuice butted the roach into the ashtray, setting his sights on you.

The air was thick with tension, unconsciously you lifted your legs, bringing his face closer, eyes bouncing between his, trying to figure him out.

This was a favourite game between the two of you. The classic game of chicken. It didn’t help that you were always the one to break first. It was just a lot of conflicting feelings.

It would be so easy to say yes to Beetlejuice, give into his obvious advances, but you didn’t want to be some breather booty call. Sure, the two of you had a great friendship, the thought of ruining it with your dumb feelings scared the shit out of you.

But you were only human. And an incredibly high one at the moment.

Sighing, turning your head away, you mumbled. “I don’t want to do this anymore,”

You were happy to get this off your shoulders, sad at the idea of his rejection and unbelievably ripped. Letting slip a pathetic giggle, the multiple emotions were causing tears to well in your eyes. This. He was just so important to you. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this and you were so nervous what his reaction would be.

“I see. I knew this was gonna happen eventually….Bye (Y/N).”

Wait, what?

Tilting your head up, you saw Beetlejuice standing up, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Huh? No! BJ look at me please.” You jumped up, snatching at his jacket sleeve, forcing him to turn, but he wouldn’t look at you. What the hell just happened?

You felt your mouth go dry as you realized the way he had interpreted what you said. Oh no..

“I didn’t mean it that way at all. I mean.. I’m over just being friends, playing this game with you…. Not that it isn’t fun!”

You were digging yourself deeper, the words you wanted to say weren’t coming out.

What you wanted to say was ‘I love you Beetlejuice. I want you to move in with me and become more than friends.’ The weed was causing your mind to move in slow motion, this was the absolute worst timing for this. What the fuck were you doing?

No, no more of this. You weren’t backing down from this.

Beetlejuice wasn’t helping. In the midst of your freak out, someone was also happening to him. His hair had gone black as night. You had never seen him so...Blank. It would have been better if he was angry or obviously upset, you could deal with that. You had seen that before.

This was more terrifying than anything.

“No.. Not game as in I don’t take us seriously….I’m fucking this up so bad..” Babbling to him, he wasn’t saying anything. Continuing to just look in the distance, like you weren’t even speaking to him.

“Calm down BJ, please. I’m so sorry for just blurting that out. Let me explain.”

There was a quiet, tense moment you thought he was going to say no, leave you still. Hurt eyes slowly turned to look at you as he backed away, distancing himself from you.

Taking a deep breath, collecting your thoughts.

“When I said that, I meant that...done. I want us to… Be more to each other. Have a relationship.”

There. You had said it out loud. Still, you couldn’t stop the word vomit from continuing.

“I’m just… If that isn’t what you want Beetlejuice, you can tell me.. I want you to tell me-”

“Babes?”

“Yes, BJ?”

“Please hug me, I really need it.” Without speaking you rush over, climbing onto him, clutching desperately at his back, not believing how close you came from losing him. Unbelievably lucky that everything turned out Beetlejuice breathed your scent in deeply, muttering something into your neck.

Pulling back, you can’t help but continue the tears tracking down your face as you see his own glittering like amber.

“You scared me.”

Sniffling, you hide your face into his shoulder. That’s the worst thing he could have said to you. The fact that once again, boring, average you was reminded how much this powerful creature’s world revolved around you. It was the most humbling experience imaginable.

Striving to keep your mouth shut, you just breathed in the quiet moment. Basking in each other. No secrets, no hidden feelings.

“Woah. I’ve…..Never felt that before,”

“I know, honey. I’m so dumb. If I were just more honest with you, we could have been doing this so much sooner,”

“You’re not dumb, babes. I know i can be…. A lot.” Scoffing, you cover his mouth with your hand, watching his expression become one of surprise.

“Thank you, BJ. You are not too much..” Giggling, you lean towards him, “You’re just right.”

Not wanting to speak anymore, needing to finally show him how much you wanted him. You kissed Beetlejuice for the first time. You expected him to be eager, sloppy and immediately hot and bothered. Nothing could have prepared you for him to be so sweet and gentle. It made your heart hurt with regret. Why didn’t you want to tell him how you felt? There was still a lot to talk about, but there was something else you needed to show him first.

Pulling away, the two of you were flushed and panting, you licked your lips and watched as his eyes flitted to them.

“But it’s okay. I know a perfect way I could make it up to you.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice prompt #beetlejuice musical #prompts #angst and fluff

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