#this man is so repressed that he skipped right over the part where a guy can't handle any suggestion that he might be gay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emeren · 3 years

Text

speed racer- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 6k

content warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, smoking, degradation, overstimulation, breeding (w/o baby talk)

notes: 100% inspired by the official art, like mmm yes please. also i know absolutely nothing about how car racing works, but that’s not important. this is unedited because my brain turned to mush writing it. enjoy!! <3

SUMMARY: eren’s a semi-professional car racer, who has a tumultuous friendship with the reader. after losing a race, eren sets out to win something else in his life, much to the reader’s surprise.

“took you long enough!” sasha called out, holding her hand above her eyes in an attempt to block out the bright sun. you dished her a smile, weaving your way through the throngs of people in the stands, attempting not to step on anyone. your eyes briefly flitted to the track, the assistants distantly getting their cars ready. they were hardly visible from here; merely faceless figures idling around. you heaved out a sigh as you reached sasha, the brunette gingerly patting the spot next to her.

“you couldn’t have gotten better seats, sash?” you asked as you sat down, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head. sasha waved her large bag of popcorn in front of your face, an exasperated expression on her features.

“the line was long, and what’s a race without popcorn?” she grinned, offering you the bag. you rolled your eyes but took a fistful of the bright yellow snack nonetheless. “plus, if you really wanted that good of seats, you would’ve come early yourself.”

“i did come here early,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the popcorn. sasha raised a questioning brow, her elbow nudging you in the side.

“getting here early just so you can poke around the racer’s quarters is not the same thing,” she singsonged, a girlish smirk on her face. you scoffed, turning away from her as you felt heat race to your cheeks. “c’mon, everyone knows you and eren are totally into each other. i don’t understand why you guys don’t just go for it.”

“i wasn’t poking around, and i am not into eren,” you said, shifting uncomfortably as the words left your mouth. it was true, to some degree. the two of you had been friends in high school, back when eren was just some skinny kid with anger issues. now he was a semi-professional racer, and the rivalry between the two of you was palpable, to say the least.

you’d been in the same friend group and for some reason eren just loved to pick on you whenever he got the chance. you suspected it had something to do with his repressed daddy issues or whatever, and he’d known mikasa and armin far too long to be so catty with them. initially they were just playful taunts, but as you got older, they started to become more personal. with age came your own unchecked need to banter and argue with him.

somewhere along the way the arguments turned to sexual tension. a sexual tension that for the most part, the two of you were happy to ignore. it allowed room for a more sassy friendship, at least.

“uh huh, suuure,” sasha responded, seemingly unconvinced. she must’ve sensed your discomfort, deciding to change the topic. “who’s who?”

your eyes traced the track, analyzing each vehicle. “armin’s in yellow, mikasa’s in red, eren’s in white, and i believe levi is in green.”

“levi’s racing? isn’t he getting a little old for that?” sasha laughed, squinting. you chuckled.

“it’s just a small fundraiser race, plus he’s a crowd favorite over here,” you explained. sasha nodded as she processed the information. the sun was hot, beating down on your back. “i’m honestly surprised this many people came out.”

sasha tossed more popcorn in her mouth, halfway done with the bag despite the race still not having started. she offered it to you again. “mhm, this is the same type of crowd that we’d see in the underground.”

you thought back to your days of attending the illegal races, late at night and under the cover of darkness. though you were just a junior in college, it felt like those nights freshman year had been decades ago. that was before eren showed real promise in the professional circuit. it was also where levi scouted him out to be his successor.

as if on cue, you could see the figures of the racers emerging from the port, each headed for their respective cars. you couldn’t help the way your gaze immediately followed the tall, brown haired racer adorned in his white racing jacket, checkers on the side. the crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of the all the racers, one from each color of the rainbow. eren walked with a certain confidence, his adamant determination being one of the only things that followed him from high school.

though you couldn’t clearly see his face from where you sat, you knew he was smiling. eren had always loved the adrenaline rush before a race.

“alright ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to the annual shiganshina fundraiser race!” the reporter boomed over the intercom. sasha squealed in her seat, excitedly gripping your arm and pointing towards your friends. you felt a mix of excited nervousness waft over you, giggling along with her. “today we’ve got racers from all over the circuit, and each one has volunteered their precious time for the cause. can we get a round of applause?”

the crowd erupted in yet another ear deafening round of applause as the announcer read off the names of each of the racers. you and sasha made sure to scream your loudest when armin, mikasa, and eren’s names were read off.

you hoped they knew it was you, your throat scratchy as you sat back down. there was no need to be loud for levi; the entire crowd went absolutely feral at the mention of his name.

the announcer read off the conditions of the race, as well as the reasoning for the fundraiser itself. you and sasha chatted quietly about the after party while the racers put their helmets on and got in their cars. before too long, the announcer was gearing up for the start.

“alright everyone, we’re about to start. get yourselves ready.”

you and sasha stood, hollering and cheering for your friends as the cars all lined up. you knew you’d be happy if any of them crossed the finish line first, but it was undeniable that it would be eren. it wasn’t armin or mikasa’s passion like it was eren’s; they viewed it more as as fun hobby. nevertheless, you dreaded how smug eren would be once he added another win to his already growing list. he really was a bastard sometimes.

“racers ready your cars. 3... 2... 1... go!”

they were off, levi’s green car easily settling into first place, cruising past the other cars as he whipped around the first curve. you held your breath, eyes scanning the other cars placements. eren was in fourth, armin in fifth, and mikasa in second. sasha yelled sporadically, reaching out and squeezing your wrist tightly.

as they rounded the circuit for the second time, eren passed the third place racer, coming up behind mikasa’s red car. you held your breath. “c’mon eren...”

“shit! he passed her!” sasha screeched, jumping up and down. you smiled as he whipped the corner, nearly cutting the edge of the median.

“levi is still so far ahead,” you commented, trying to pry sasha’s death grip from your wrist. your eyes glanced to the clock, realizing that the race was near its finish. levi was cutting the third corner and eren was quickly gaining on him.

“looks like it’s gonna be clo-” sasha’s voice was cut off as a large man tripped over the bleacher behind you, effectively shoving you into her side. “shit, the popcorn!”

you regained your balance, giving the man behind you a dirty glare as you turned to sasha. she frowned at the popcorn that’d been spilled all over the ground. “what a waste!”

looking back up at the track, the crowd broke into screams of excitement. you expected to see eren’s face on the big screen to the side as confetti streamed through the air, but were surprised to see levi’s unimpressed stare.

eren lost?

“you’ve gotta be shitting me,” sasha gaped, her face slack in shock. you shrugged, shaking the feeling of disappointment from your shoulders. serves him right.

people started to vacate the stands, shoving their way past you as you turned to sasha. “let’s go find connie and jean, sash.”

she nodded, still frowning. the two of you climbed down the steps, going against the flow of the crowd as you weaseled your way down onto the spectators path. you could see all of the racers shaking hands, congratulating each other. your mind briefly considered whether or not eren was going to be upset, but you decided not to dwell on it.

you watched as the racers disappeared into the tunnel, eren’s tall figure no longer in view. just then, connie and jean came walking out from the service booth, both wearing their maintenance coveralls.

sasha wildly waved her arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the remaining stragglers towards your friends.

“hey guys!” she smiled, the boys jogging to meet you halfway.

“why were you guys in such shit seats?” connie asked, skipping over a greeting. you let out a small laugh at sasha’s expense. she merely shrugged, turning to jean.

“we going to your place?” you questioned before she had the chance. jean nodded, adjusting the backwards baseball cap on his head.

“yeah, just gotta wrap some things up, then we can head out,” he replied. you grew happy at the thought of kicking back with your friends, enjoying a nice night of fun. parties at jean and connie’s place were always the best.

***************

“some race that was,” connie groaned, leaning back and bringing the beer bottle to his lips. so far it was just you, sasha, connie, jean, and a bunch of random drunk people who’d come from the track. sasha scoffed from her spot on the worn, brown couch.

“you could say that again,” she grumbled. “we didn’t even get to see levi cross the finish line ‘cause some guy rammed into us.”

jean looked at you from where he leaned against the wall, a bottle in his hand and his eyebrows raised. “wait, for real?”

“yeah,” you sighed, drinking whatever bitter liquid sasha had poured into your red solo cup. “didn’t even say sorry.”

“how many times do i have to tell you guys, just come work maintenance with jean-boy and i,” connie suggested, wrapping his arm around sasha’s shoulder and giving a squeeze. she rolled her eyes and shoved him off. “you guys would get to watch the race from the track itself.”

“i don’t know the first thing about cars,” sasha laughed, you nodding along with her.

“and you think we do? i just said that so we could get the best seats in the house,” connie snorted, taking another swig of his drink. you chuckled at his idiocy, unfazed by yet another one of their stupid stunts. “where’re the big racers anyway?”

“they should be here soon,” you responded, glancing out the window. jean was unironically blasting the fast and the furious soundtrack, something he’d done after every race for as long as you’d known him. by now the songs were ingrained in your brain.

“who wants to bet jaeger is in a pissy mood?” jean snorted as he moved to sit down on the arm of the chair you were planted in.

“when isn’t he?” you sneered. connie and sasha hummed in agreement. both you and jean loved nothing more than to push eren’s buttons. you knew jean’s motives stemmed from some boyish fun, whereas yours felt a little more personal.

the sound of clapping began to compete with the music, your neck craning to look past jean into the hallway. eren, armin, and mikasa came into view, people cheering them on and patting them on the back. they each wore their racing jackets over their street clothes.

you felt a familiar sensation burn in your stomach at the sight of eren. his dark hair was pulled back per usual, wispies framing his tan face. The white jacket stood out against his black t-shirt and black jeans; key necklace he always wore glinting against his chest. as your gaze travelled up from his body, you were startled to make contact with his teal eyes. you quickly glanced away in embarrassment.

“well, well, well,” jean cheered, raising his bottle to the trio. “how’d it feel to lose to a short, old man, eh jaeger?”

eren scowled, obviously peeved. “if i had to lose to anyone, i’m glad it was levi.”

connie snorted at that. “man, professional circuit has you soft.”

“whatever you say, baldie,” eren smirked mischievously as he came to sit down on the couch. connie defensively rubbed his head. “at least i’m making money in prof.”

“i still can’t believe you have people that actually want to sponsor you,” you snipped, a playful expression on your face. eren lazily looked towards you, the familiar irritation laced in his eyes.

“i’m sorry, what was that? i wasn’t listening to you,” eren retorted, looking as unbothered as ever. you glared at his words, but caught armin’s disapproving eye and decided to stay quiet.

as the night carried on, you watched your friends relax and reminisce about previous races and the days spent in the illegal ring. it seemed crazy that your life was so centered around car races, when you weren’t even a racer yourself. but you supposed you were just happy to be supporting your friends.

at some point you got up out of your chair to refill your cup. the large hoards of people had started to dance; the house feeling hot and humid as you shoved your way to the kitchen. luckily the room was empty, save for armin who was drinking water out of the kitchen tap.

“thirsty?” you asked, amused. his head snapped up, surprised by your voice. it took one look to tell he was absolutely trashed, face red and eyes half lidded. he smiled goofily and nodded his head before stumbling back out into the crowd of people.

you quickly filled your cup, following the direction armin had gone. as you stepped out of the kitchen, a body came out of nowhere and smacked into you.

eren jumped back, trying to avoid the liquid that sloshed out of your cup. “hey, watch it!” he hissed.

“you watch it, casanova,” you snapped, irritated by the sticky alcohol that dripped down your hand. eren’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, his arms defensively crossing his chest.

“i told you not to call me that,” he bit back, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. you rolled your eyes, instinctively bringing your hand to your mouth in an attempt to lick the drink off. eren watched you, his gaze clouded with an indiscernible emotion. you knew what you were doing.

“hm. too bad,” you quipped, dragging your tongue down the side of your hand, popping your pointer finger in your mouth. eren glowered at you as you let out a giggle. “see ya, loser.”

“whatever, brat,” he huffed, shaking the tension from his pants as you sauntered off into the crowd. he hated the effect you had on him.

you’d already decided not to get shit faced. while the rest of your friends had chosen otherwise, you danced alongside them, your resolve wearing thin much faster than theirs. jean and sasha bounced happily up and down, screaming the lyrics to whatever song it was blasting from the speakers. connie and mikasa were playing beer pong, and you had no clue where armin and eren had gone.

you heaved in a breath as a sharp pain shot through your side, signaling the end of your dancing career for the night. your two dance partners were too far gone to notice, waving goodbye to you as you stepped out of the sweaty crowd.

slipping your phone out of your pocket, your eyes nearly popped from your head at the time. two thirty?!

only slightly tipsy, you decided to find jean’s room and call it a night. he’d just have to sleep on the couch. with one hand dragging on the wall, you made your way through the house, past armin who was doing body shots with a couple of strangers, up the stairs and down the dark hall. it was quieter up here, but you could still hear the music and knew it’d be awhile till sleep visited you.

shoving jean’s door open, you were surprised to see none other than eren laid back on the bed, puffs of smoke coming from his mouth. the strong scent of weed hit your nostrils, nose scrunching up in reflex. he propped himself up on one arm upon your entrance, eyeing you.

“oh, sorry i’ll just- wait a minute,” you paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “you aren’t supposed to be smoking on your sponsorship.”

eren let out a loud laugh at that, more smoke spilling from his lungs. “thanks, mom. i know.”

you stood in the doorway, not really sure what to do. “jean’s gonna be mad if his room smells like weed tomorrow.”

“yeah, why do you think i chose to do it in here?” he leered, bringing the blunt to his lips and deeply inhaling, sharp cheekbones protruding with the action. you sucked in a breath, not wanting to acknowledge just how gorgeous he was. his jacket was off, black shirt tightly gripping his muscular yet slender arms as he propped himself up. he blew the smoke from his nostrils this time, making your face heat. “wanna hit?”

you sighed, weighing the options. jean’s bed was a lot more comfortable than connie’s. you could just wait till eren was done, and then pass out. “no, but i’ll wait with you till you’re done.”

“suit yourself, brat,” eren hummed, flopping back down on the bed as you shut the door behind yourself. you came to sit by him, looking down as he heaved in a sober breath. he really is beautiful, you thought.

your eyes scanned his face. “you really shouldn’t be smoking, you know. you could lose the sponsorship.”

eren rolled his teal eyes, giving you a side glance. “i’m aware. i’m also aware that you aren’t going to rat on me.”

“and what makes you so sure?” you asked playfully, your voice low. eren’s gaze shifted to you, placing the blunt between his lips as he sat up, face inches from yours.

“because. you can act like you hate me all you want,” smoke blew from his lips as he spoke, slowly inching his face closer to yours. you swallowed, eyes struggling to maintain contact with his dark stare. “but i know how badly you want me.”

you blinked, heart rate accelerating as he glanced at your lips. “speaking from experience?”

eren’s mouth quirked up in a smirk at your words. “something like that.”

you watched with desire as he brought the bud of the blunt up to his lips, deeply inhaling the toxic smoke. he lifted his free hand, pointer finger gently tracing your jaw as his thumb came up to caress your chin. he tapped softly against your face, as if asking you to open your mouth.

you weren’t sure what part of you was wanting to submit to his every move. maybe it was the alcohol. or maybe it was the accumulation of sexual tension. something told you it was a deeper itch that needed to be scratched. an itch only eren could reach.

you parted your lips, eyes fluttering as eren leaned forward and carefully brushed his own against yours, dumping his lungful of smoke into your mouth. you breathed it in, fighting the urge to cough and whine as he pulled away.

“good girl,” he breathed, leaning away to snuff the bud out on jean’s bedside table. you heaved out as much as you could, shocked by your own willingness. you were mainly surprised by how much you enjoyed whatever that was.

you stared at him expectantly as he turned back to you, a serious expression on his face. “eren.”

“yes?” he asked, leaning heavily on his arm, eyes unashamedly focused on your lips. his other hand came up again, lightly ghosting your jawline. you could feel yourself growing wet between your legs; the way eren was fucking you with his eyes sending an unwelcomed throb to your clit.

acting on impulse, you lurched forward, latching your lips onto eren’s slightly chapped ones. he wasted no time in kissing you back; hungrily pressing himself closer to your body. his lips were warm and tasted like weed and coca cola, his tongue wiggling its way into your mouth where you happily welcomed it.

you brought your hand up, wanting to run your fingers through his hair, but were stopped when they got caught in the bun. eren grunted, kissing you harder and bringing his own hand up to yank the tie from his locks, letting his soft hair fall to his shoulders.

your fingers were quick to glide through the brown strands, scratching his scalp in the process. some throaty sound emitted from his chest, the noise making your cunt ache in need. how is he so hot?

eren’s hands came to your waist, roughly shoving you down onto the bed, so that he hovered above you. your lips continued to meld together, saliva coated mouths wetly intertwined. you removed your hand from his hair, bringing both hands to run down the expanse of his arms that were on either side of your head. you squeezed his biceps, surprised when he suddenly pulled away.

“is this okay?” he panted, breaths labored. his pupils were dilated, all seriousness behind his gaze. you nodded your head without hesitation, practically begging him to continue. “words.”

“yes, yes. i want this just as much as you do,” you responded. eren smirked from above you, his dark hair swirling around his face as his key dangled in front of your chin.

“good, because,” he leaned down to your ear, lightly nibbling the lobe as the cold key rested against your throat. “i’m going to punish you for all these years of torture.”

your eyes widened, the words sending a desirable chill down your spine. “torture?”

eren’s hot mouth travelled slowly from your ear down the side of your neck, lightly peppering the skin with lustful kisses. his tongue came out as he reached your collarbone, dragging the wet muscle up the front of your throat, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. a small whimper involuntarily left your mouth as he pulled back, grabbing your chin in his large hand.

“all of the nicknames,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “the quips,” and another, your chest tightening. “the stunt you pulled earlier with your hand. oh god. it’s like you were practically begging me to bend you over and teach you a lesson.”

he pulled back, dark eyes boring into yours. the desire was palpable, your breathing shallow as he stared at you. it was like he was waiting for some silent agreement.

you held eye contact, tilting your chin back ever so slightly in his grip. “good thing i learn fast.”

your words flew straight to his cock, throbbing uncomfortably behind his jeans. eren let go of your chin, his lips hungrily reconnecting with yours as his hands pinned your wrists to either side of your head. his tongue was quick to invite itself into your mouth, warm and erotic.

you wanted to tug on his hair again; wanted to hear his primal groans and feel him vibrate against your mouth, but you were pinned to the bed. desperate to hear eren moan, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, the action making him yank his head back.

“tsk tsk, none of that,” he growled, wet lips glinting in the low light of the room. “this is your punishment. guess we’re going to have to do something else.”

you frowned as he let go of your wrists, lifting himself from the bed and standing. you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes laced with desire as eren swiftly pulled the black shirt over his head, key pendant resting on his newly exposed chest. he was dangerously attractive like this; dark hair disheveled on his shoulders, only adding to the feral stare he was giving you.

he leaned forward, grabbing your thighs and yanking you to the end of the bed, legs dangling from the side. you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees, fingers coming up to toy with the button of your jean shorts.

“these little shorts make your ass look so good,” he grumbled, tapping the button. ��be good and take them off for me.”

you wasted no time in lifting your ass off the bed, struggling to yank the denim down your legs without hitting eren in the face. he watched your every movement, licking his lips as you wiggled them off.

without thinking, your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal a black bra. eren’s pupils dilated further at the unexpected sight of your breasts.

he helped pull the shorts from your ankles, tossing them aside as you sat back down, just in your panties and bra. you paused for a moment, unsure of what he was planning to do.

“watch me,” he demanded, staring at you through his brows. you nodded your head, breath hitching as he placed an open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, tongue swiping against the smooth skin.

his eyelashes fluttered as he licked up your leg; just the way he looked at you being enough to have you creaming in your lace panties. your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, the burning in your face mirroring the way your clit throbbed along with your heart beat.

eren’s tongue trailed until he reached the edge of your underwear, eyes never failing to stay connected with yours. you swallowed as he lifted his head, placing his tongue flatly against your clothed clit.

it was a warm, muted feeling, your body all too aware of the beautiful man between your legs. eren brought his fingers up, hooking under the fabric and pushing it to the side.

“so wet for me already,” he hummed, a smile on his face. you blushed in embarrassment, the feeling of his breath on your glistening pool of moisture making you shiver. “’m gonna eat you so good, little bitch.”

you gasped as eren rapidly brought his face down, burying his head between your legs. the sensation was like no other; a swirling feeling in your stomach as his tongue hungrily swiped against your clit. your hands flew down to his hair, tugging as his lips wrapped around the bud, suckling softly.

a moan escaped your lips, the sound causing eren to groan out in reply. the vibration of his vocal cords against your center amplifying the pleasure.

a distinct feeling began to burn in your chest, the sloppiness of eren’s tongue licking up your slick causing your legs to squirm, tightening around his head. “fuck.”

eren pulled back at the pressure against his skull, a smack sounding through the air as he released his suction on your wet cunt.

“i told you to be good,” he hissed, lips coated in your sheen. you knew the image of eren’s face between your legs, hair disheveled and mouth swollen, eyes dark and lustrous, would be burned into the back of your brain.

flustered, you nodded your head, spreading your legs so they weren’t pressing against his face. he nodded in content, arms coming up to wrap around your thighs to keep you steady.

and he was back; eating your pussy like he hadn’t been fed in years, a primal desperation. he pressed his tongue down harder, the cry ripping from your throat at the sensation only egging him on. you struggled against his grip as he abused your clit with his mouth, sucking and tracing his teeth over it so good.

his tongue slid down to your entrance, shoving itself in without invitation. the fullness wasn’t like having sex; it was a heated, swirling feeling. the wet muscle circled around your spongey walls, your face beginning to burn and hands growing clammy in eren’s hair.

you threw your head back as his ministrations sped up, your hips attempting to grind into his face. the warmth in the pit of your stomach building like a loaded gun, ready to release itself.

all it took was the added pressure of his hand wrapping around your thigh so that his thumb could press against your clit, feverishly rubbing. you came crashing down, your eyes screwing shut as the wave of dopamine stretched to every part of your body, legs jerking against his hold.

eren pulled his head back again, a smile on his wet face as he licked your release from his lips. “tasted so good, so good for me.”

you breathed out in reply as he came back up above you, gently taking your chin and bringing his mouth down to yours.

the kiss was small and simple, your eye lids growing heavy. you could taste your bitter release on him, the unfamiliar flavor not completely unpleasant.

“sleepy?” eren mumbled against your lips, coming back to look at you. you nodded your head, eyes catching on the key that dangled from his neck. “too bad. we aren’t done with your punishment yet.”

you frowned, your body suddenly more awake than it was before. “huh?” you asked, sitting up as eren shifted to pull his jeans off.

you weren’t sure what you expected when he yanked both his jeans and boxers down; you guessed you’d always thought his anger issues were compensation for something. the realization dawned on you that eren had nothing to compensate for as his cock sprung from his pants, the sheer size making your mouth water.

a smirk crossed his face as he stepped from his jeans. “enjoying the view?”

“what? no,” you scoffed, averting your gaze. eren crawled back over you, his bare length pressing into your stomach as his hands came up to unclasp your bra.

“don’t be shy, this is your punishment after all,” he whispered, pulling the cups from your chest. his eyes unashamedly scanned your breasts, a smile tugging his lips as he gave them a generous squeeze.

you tried to ignore the imprint of him on your stomach; but it was nearly impossible. you could feel the spot between your legs grow wet again, arousal already weaseling its way back into your system.

eren brought his lips to yours once again, the kisses much sloppier and desperate than before. he grunted as you shifted to lay back down, his exposed dick rubbing against your stomach. “can’t wait to be inside of you,” he mumbled against your lips.

you whimpered at his words, his lips melding with your own while he simultaneously tugged your panties down your legs. he propped himself up with one arm, the other positioning the tip of his cock at the entrance of your already throbbing cunt.

you took a deep breath as he slowly eased himself into you; the sheer stretch making your eyes lull back in your head. eren moved his hips slowly at first, loosening you up. he was watching your expressions; his eyelids heavy and mouth slightly agape.

“shit, you’re so tight,” he groaned, hips starting to move faster as he gazed down at you. you swallowed, closing your eyes as he sent one particularly hard thrust, cock nearly ramming your cervix. “you good?”

“mhm,” you responded, bringing your hands up to grab his hair. “just so big.”

eren let out a breathy chuckle at that, eyes traveling down to your pelvis where his dick was visibly creating a bump with every thrust. he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing down as he bucked his hips violently forwards. he was so deep.

you cried out at the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, your walls clenching around him as your hands clawed at his muscular back.

he was filling you up so good, a moan leaving his lips as your enhanced arousal unexpectedly brought your second orgasm down, tears pricking your eyes. eren kept abusing your pussy, his thrusts growing senseless before he buried himself deep within you, releasing his load inside of your exhausted center.

both of your breathing was labored, eren looking up at the ceiling. his face was flushed as he recovered, you laying limply beneath him trying to regain your composure yourself.

“that felt so good,” you admitted, bringing your hand up from his back to caress his angular face. eren frowned at your words, large hand grabbing your wrist and removing it from his jawline.

“m’not tired yet,” he said seriously, your eyes widening as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips. your fucked out face beneath him had his dick already hardening again. “m’not gonna be tired till i win.”

he suddenly pulled up, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing your legs up by your head. the action strained your muscles, the feeling of eren’s cum dripping down your ass filling your head as he readied himself to fuck you senseless.

he stared at your cunt; at the way his cum was oozing out of it, the abused pussy ready to take him in again. he used his fingers to catch the drip, forcing it back inside of you. the thought of filling you up all nice and pretty sent him over the edge, his hand shamelessly guiding his cock back inside of you.

eren was meaner this time; each thrust was deep and deliberate, hitting your cervix and making you cry out in pleasure. the burning sensation in your clit was overwhelming, your mouth hanging open as eren slowly fucked you stupid.

“good, pretty girl” eren breathed out, ramming his hips into yours. “took her punishment like such a good girl.”

you tried to nod your head, but you couldn’t move. the feeling of hot, sticky tears rolled down your face, eren’s cock deep within you almost too much to bear. he grabbed your chin, tongue swiping up your cheek as he savored the salty flavor on his tastebuds. this man and his licking.

“tell me, did you learn your lesson?” eren grunted in your ear, hand still gripping your chin. you tried to form a sentence, fucked beyond words. “hm, use your words and i’ll let you cum.”

one more deep thrust and his dick stopped its strokes, pausing within you. “yes... yes.”

“yes what?”

your tongue was heavy in your mouth, pussy all too aware of eren’s length within it. “i learned my lesson, you won.”

he smirked, aggressively bucking his hips into your weak cunt, the action making you cry out as he rammed your cervix. the tears continued to roll down your cheeks as eren’s dick twitched, spurting the his seed into you. your third release followed his, your clit spasming from the overstimulation.

eren heaved himself out of you, collapsing deftly onto the bed. the two of you sat in a heated silence, your face sticky from the tears. eren glanced to you, eyes trailing down your body.

“i’ll get a rag,” he mumbled, shoving off the bed and walking into jean’s bathroom. you were beyond exhausted and knew that you’d be sore tomorrow. eren reemerged, quickly cleaning you up and handing you your shirt.

your eyes lazily watched him as he walked over and locked the door; brain too tired to form a sentence.

he must’ve noticed your concern. “we can sleep in here tonight; i don’t think you’re in any shape to move.”

you carefully crawled into the sheets, not even bothering to put your shirt back on. eren followed suit, climbing in behind you.

“night,” he whispered as he shut the bedside light off. your lids were growing heavy, a smile on your lips as you began to fall asleep.

“night, casanova.”

<3 <3 <3

#eren jaeger #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren #eren x reader #eren smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jäger #this is so bad im sorry

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled, not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

#my writing #orc x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #orc/human #monster/human #monster x reader #monster/reader #angst #orc

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

Note

oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy

Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!

And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.

Doing things like:

Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,

Here they are.

And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.

So.

He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while. Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.

And also.

In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands, feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.

And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”

It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.

And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.

And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.

And he’s always been good at sports.

So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.

“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”

Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.

“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”

But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e. When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this: the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.

And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.

Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.

“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”

Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”

Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.

Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.

“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”

But he’s posh trash now.

��

The original post (xxxx) xD 💍

#harringrove #Steve Harrington #Billy hargrove #Billy x Steve #xask #askfic #xharringrove #the harrington-hargrove household #xaskwithoneheadlight #xfluff #xpronight

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robinofinashiro · 3 years

Text

request: “could I request some more highschool au of Reiner x reader? :) maybe something with jealousy or a bit of angst (such as a popular girl being jealous that they’re together?)”

note: IT’S HERE!! TODAYS THE DAY!! LETS FUCKING GOOOO!!! but damn, i can tell yall are thirsty for more AoT content now bc that’s all that’s in my ask box rn, LMFAOO. it’s okay tho bc I fell yall.

requests: kinda open?

pairing: reiner braun x fem! reader

both you and Reiner walked down the hall, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he spoke to you about his upcoming football game. you were half listening, more focused on a play you had to preform for extra credit in one of your elective classes.

you wanted the extra credit to boost your GPA so you figured that taking a part in a roll in a English class play would be the most beneficial. you were the main love interest, someone with minimal lines to begin with. the main character was the guy you were supposed to be in love with and he did the talking for the two of you.

“hey Reiner!” you heard a girl scream from behind the two of you. you stopped as Reiner turned around to smile at her. you weren’t the jealous type of not, not by a long shot, however; this girl came around the two of you a lot. she seemed like she knew Reiner for a while but you had yet to introduce yourself to her, “thanks for helping me in class yesterday....it was nice of you to stay behind,” she giggled.

you tried to keep your cool, not trying to let your jealousy get to you. Annie could see you repressing the emotion as Bertl looked to Reiner. you continued to watch their interaction as you realized Reiner wasn’t looking to finish the conversation off early.

“hey, tell Reiner I’ll catch up to him later!” you told Annie, looking to clock quickly, “I need to meet my English partner before class starts!” you mentioned before running in the other direction, hoping you didn’t make it late for class.

Annie rolled her eyes, clearly seeing the intentions of the girl talking to Reiner. she could see that the girl was jealous of the relationship you had with him and with the few times she was around the two of you when she came up, Annie could see you getting annoyed with her.

after Reiner finished talking to her, he quickly scanned to find you, “where’d she go?” Reiner asked. Annie sighed, “to class. she was going to be late and you know she hates being late to any class.” Reiner could tell Annie was annoyed at him but didn’t bother to pick at the reason why.

Reiner waited for you by the door of the classroom. he could see you reciting lines for the play you were in and bashfully smiled at seeing you. the boy on the other hand, he found himself getting annoyed with him. he knew the boys name was Colt and was in a few classes with you.

the bell rang, making him jump a bit at the sound. you packed your things slowly before making your way out. you made your way over to Reiner, quickly grabbing his hand, “how was class?” you asked him. he shrugged, “fine, boring as usual. how was English?” he asked back.

“great! we were just practicing for the small play we have due on Friday. you should totally come and watch! I know Mr.Smith wouldn’t mind you watching! plus, Bertl and Annie are coming to watch!”

Reiner nodded as he kissed the top of your head. nothing made him happier than knowing that both of his friends got along with his girlfriend. he knew they could be a little bit rough around the edges but you seemed to be getting along well with Bertholdt and he saw you and Annie hanging out each others houses a few times.

“Reiner, should we be heading to class? we have that war presentation to work on!” you heard that girls voice say. you felt your eye physically twitch in annoyance. Reiner nodded, “hey, you wouldn’t mind me going to class a few minutes early, would you?” he asked you.

the girl had an annoyed expression written across her face, almost as if she was jealous at the two of you. you looked up to Reiner, “what else would be new?” you responded, not waiting for his response before leaving.

Reiner looked at you stunned as the girl herself stood in silence for a moment, “what a girl you have there, Reiner,” she said, playing up her cutesy voice. he didn’t pay no mind to her, “maybe I should go see if she’s okay,” he told himself.

the girl immediately perked up, “nonsense! she said it was okay so we should go to class!” she tried to compromise.

Reiner nodded, taking his friends advice as they walked down the hall together. the girl had her arms on his left shoulder, hanging onto him as he remained silent almost the entire time. once they got to the class, they saw Annie and Bertholdt walking their way.

Bertholdt immediately saw Annie’s face change as soon as she saw the girl hanging off of Reiner. “hey Reiner, where’s ( your name ),” she asked the blond. he pointed to the back of him, “she walked to class already. she seems like she isn’t having a good day though,” he murmured.

Annie laughed, “I wonder why,” she said fully glaring at the girl. Annie and Bertl walked a bit ahead of them, Annie purposely shoving her with her shoulder, “watch yourself,” she told the girl in her ear before walking at Bertholdt’s pace.

Bertl immediately tried to calm her down as Reiner didn’t even catch her doing it, his brain still wracking for what could have upset you. the girl now going back to talking as she looked up to Reiner who wasn’t responding, “hey, Reiner, are you okay?” she asked, “if you want to skip class and you know, talk instead, we totally can,” she offered.

he shook his head no, “lets go to class, I’ll just deal with his later,” he told her before trying to snap out of his gaze.

Reiner hadn’t seen you for the rest of the day and your texts the rest of the night were at a small minimum. you were responding very half-ass and he could still tell whatever was bothering you was still there.

even this morning when he offered to give you a ride to school, he mentioned that you had already gotten a ride from someone. you didn’t tell him who but from the few snap videos he saw you post in the morning, it was a guy. he just couldn’t tell who.

when he got to school, he saw you waiting for him in the front like you usually did. okay, this had to be good right? you were still waiting for him!

“hey sweetheart,” he whispered, bringing you in for a hug and kissing the top of your head. you smiled, “hey, did you eat breakfast?” you asked, grabbing his hand and walking inside.

he nodded, “yeah, had a protein shake and a granola bar. you?” he asked. you nodded this time, “yeah, Colt and I caught breakfast at the McDonalds by the school. lets go before we’re late to class,” you mentioned to him as he hummed.

Reiner didn’t like the idea that you and Colt went to school together and even got breakfast on the way. that tradition was usually left for the two of you on Friday mornings.

the two of you walked, talking about whatever came up as you reached your AP Physics class. just as you were about to reach up to give him a quick kiss, you heard that god awful voice behind you. you felt yourself physically get tense as she called Reiner’s name.

“oh, she’s with you,” she said, giving you a look before looking up too Reiner, “want me to walk with you to math?” she asked him. Reiner waited a moment, “uh sure, let me tell her goodbye,” he said, turning around. that was when he realized that you had already stalked off and inside the class room.

he felt that sense of confusion again. Reiner had texted you during class, not receiving a text back from you in the entire 50 minutes. once the bell went off, he immediately grabbed his things, rushing to your class to see you.

you were still in the class, thankfully talking to the teacher when you saw him. your anger grew again as you tried to leave the class, trying not to talk to Reiner. you weren’t a jealous person, not by far, but the girl was constantly around the two of you and you couldn’t remember a single time in the last two weeks when you and Reiner talked to yourselves without her interrupting.

“hey, what happened?” Reiner asked you, cornering you in a semi-empty hallway. you rolled your eyes not in the mood to talk but you figured Reiner would just keep bugging you, “your friend is who is bothering me! she is constantly around-,” you were promptly cut off by her voice as she walked towards the two of you.

this time you turned around, immediately putting your hand between the two of you, “you’re going to have to give me a minute,” you practically screamed, “seriously. you can have him but you know, for once, give me a second alone with my own boyfriend,” you stated as she remained stunned in silence.

“she’s going to be the reason why we break up,” you told Reiner as his face dropped at what you were saying, “yeah, your little friend interrupting us every time we’re together is getting real fucking annoying and she’s lucky she hasn’t gotten punched yet. just know that you’re on thin ice, both of you, and honestly, if you want Reiner, you can fucking have him! remember what I told you when we first started dating! our relationship can easily end and I wouldn’t care because I don’t depend on a man to keep me happy. I can easily toss you to the side without giving a fuck, clearly like you are with me!”

Reiner’s eyes widened, not realizing the amount of anger you were clearly holding against him. he wanted to reach out to grab your wrist but Annie had walked into the hall at the right time, taking you away as you tried to keep your tears at bay.

Bertholdt looked at his best friend, shaking his head disappointedly, “we told you Reiner. more than once, actually. that girl was not sitting right with any of us and look at what that caused,” he said.

he nodded, not knowing what to say. he tried to process what you were saying and what you said was actually true. the girl, now that he thought of it, was constantly around him. trying to flirt with him and talking him away from you while she gave you a dirty look when the two of you were together. since Reiner was a relatively popular guy, he knew he had to keep up this nice persona for the team and maybe that was what made him not see the girls intention.

the rest of the day went in a blur. the girl no longer around him much as Reiner tried to get your attention every second he could. blowing up your phone, trying to catch you after class, even seeing if he could drive you home but by the time the day ended, you were hopping into Colt’s car and on your way home.

the entire night was spent with him in bed, cursing himself out as he knew he had to fix this first thing in the morning. the good thing with that was that your English class was now your first class of the day because of the play you had to do. he knew if he brought your favorite coffee and snack, that could be a way of him starting to apologize.

the morning came as he held your snacks and drink by his chest. his friend no where in sight as he booked it to the AP English hallway. you were fixing the dress you had to wear for the play as Colt was talking to you from the hall. he could tell whatever it was the two of you were speaking about, it seemed rather entertaining as you laughed at whatever it was he was saying.

he waited for a few minutes, watching you walk into class as he saw Bertl and Annie walking to him, “you actually had the audacity to come?” she said a bit bitterly. Reiner nodded, “I have to apologize before I lose her. you know how she is. I could be instantly dropped and she could care less if I’m hurt or not. I want her, no, I need her by my side and I want to make this right,” he exclaimed.

Annie and Bertl were a bit surprised at his friends command. “she was extremely upset at you yesterday so I hope you know you have a lot of work to do on your end to actually make this work,” Annie spoke before walking into the class.

Bertholdt looked at his friend before nodding and walking in with him. you saw Reiner walk in with Bertholdt, your anger instantly rising as you tried to compose yourself. Colt walked behind you, putting his arm around you, “relax and focus on the extra credit,” he whispered while the Mr.Smith turned the lights off and focused the few small theater lights on the small make shift stage.

the play some play about love and tragedy that Reiner could have cared less about, however; the way Colt was speaking to you and holding you in some scene made his blood boil. you looked like you were enjoying it as you looked at Colt with heart eyes he felt.

it wasn’t until the end of the play, Colt holding you close as he sang a song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaOo8m0kNvI) to you that Reiner almost about had it. the way you were dancing and kind of singing with him made Reiner want to jump over the desk to kick him a few times. the two of you holding each others hands and faces a few times, sometimes your faces almost touching is especially what killed him.

as soon as the play finished, the few people the class clapped as you both bowed and walked into the costume room to get undressed from the clothes. they were a bit uncomfortable but you were glad the play was over with and you could finally relax.

Annie and Bertl pushed Reiner over to you the moment after Colt left you. you stared at Reiner with a mean expression, really in no mood to speak to him, “can I ask why you’re here?” you said.

Reiner sighed, closing the costume room door close and looking at you, “I want to apologize. I know you don’t want to hear it but please let me say this. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for her to get in our way. I didn’t really realize it until you and Annie pointed it out. I guess with being one of the most ‘popular’ guys here, I just assumed she was being nice or I had to be at least. I didn’t mean for her to get in our way and I swear I don’t even like her. she’s kind of annoying if I’m being quite honest,” he explained before taking a breath and continuing, “anyway, I bought you this in hopes you can take this as the beginning of my apology. I know I’ll probably have to work for you taking me back but I’ll whatever it is you want me to do, just please give me a second chance,” he practically begged.

you stared up Reiner for a few seconds, leaving him in suspense before sighing, “you know what Reiner? fine, you have one chance and that’s it. if she or anyone else gets THAT close with you again, I swear I’ll get their kneecaps and before I do that, I’ll get to you first,” you said.

Reiner nodded as he thanked you profusely. you shoved your bag to him, forcing him to carry it as you grabbed the semi-warm coffee, “you can walk me to my next class,” you said as you opened the door.

the walk to your next class, you ran into the girl as she tried to look down at the ground and trying not to catch your eye. you laughed to yourself knowing what you must have said to her more than likely scared her off of Reiner and yourself all together.

but it wasn’t all your doing. Annie might’ve had a few words with her after school knowing that if you didn’t intimidate her enough, she more than likely did the rest of the job well as she was now not even giving either of you the time of day.

#attack on titan #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin imagine #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot #snk #reiner braun #reiner braun imagine #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x reader #anime imagines #anime imagine #anime

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 11: Under Pressure •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blatant homophobia from Nicklesmart The Beatboxing Jester™️ in disguise as someone you know, internalized homophobia throughout the whole chapter. As usual, will put a skip marker for the heavier scene before and after if you need/want to skip. It is not light, ngl 😔 [trigger words: f*iry + the f slur, each used on exactly one occasion, and (as an insult) queer. I'm so sorry, this was not easy for me either and please do not read this if any of this in any way bothers you, i won't be mad if you skip the chapter 💕]

A/N: Next chapter will be all fluff I promise 🥲, I'm so sorry, but I needed something that could solidify Richie and Y/n's friendship for good, and her helping him through his worst fear is the best way to do that and will be explored in other ways throughout the rest of the series, specifically in the sequel. all that aside, I missed you guys and this series so much!!

LGBTQ+ RESOURCES AND SELF HELP LINKS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

Richie keeps his eyes trained on the dried mud on his navy blue slip-ons as he makes his way across town, his mind buzzing twice as fast as it normally did. He felt as if his entire body had been put through a blender; his skull still vibrating in his head turning his brain into jelly. His stomach empty and lurching as it twisted into knots far more impossible than what you'd see from a circus performer and his heartbeat could rival a hummingbird's. Not to mention he was walking with two extra legs he'd grow from time to time, another freaky affect the physical and mental toll these past few weeks had put on him and his eyesight. The caffeine he had been living on hadn't helped him one bit either he reckoned.

Insomnia had become his best friend in the past few weeks, hence this last-minute trip to the old gravel pit just behind Derry Town dump. At least, this was the lie he told himself to pluck up enough courage to call Y/n up. Richie hoped she could talk him through it, give him some advice. He was never this nervous to talk to her and deep down in a corner he wished to bury forever - that small part of himself that begged to be free - knew exactly why. This small, repressed Richie Tozier that lived locked away in the center of his heart was calling the shots that day. Hell, he probably had been his whole life but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone his true attentions of seeking her help.

All he knew is he was nervous as all hell, his palms were sweating, he couldn't stop fiddling with his glasses and he was sure one wrong move and he'd shit his pants. For fucks sake, he needed to shake this! He had already freaked Y/n out, that he knew. He could still hear her voice over the receiver. It was soaked in static and every 's', or 'c' sound she made felt like a pencil was being shoved into his eardrums cause of her shitty outdated telephone.

"You," she had asked with a pause. "want to meet at... the dump?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, scratching the same spot behind his ear for what had to be the billionth time out of nervous habit. "you got wax in your ears, L/n?"

"Nope. Just, a little confused is all. You seem kinda... I don't know, squirrely," she said wearily, and through a sharp crackling hiss from the receiver he can make out a nervous chuckle on her end. "You sure nothin' jumped up your ass or anything?"

He bit his lip. Hard. As if punishing himself for drawing her suspicions this early. What if she somehow caught on to what he was gonna talk to her about? Her walk to the gravel pit would surely give her enough time to get to that conclusion, and Richie wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle about... "insomnia". What with how many times he teased insomnia, called it that special nickname he knew it hated but secretly loved. That forbidden flutter in his chest when insomnia would laugh at his jokes, and the small but precious moments they shared from time to time when the others were late that would stay in his heart and mind for weeks to come. But it didn't matter now, as everyone knew; insomnia kept Y/n's company now.

Thankfully his mouth was faster than his brain, and it fired a rapid response before a lull could form.

"You bet your fur," he fires, his lanky arm had rested awkwardly against the wall beside the wall mount. "I am right as rain, toots."

He of course hadn't seen it, but she had frowned at her phone. Her concern was growing with every word spoken from him.

"Yeah," she snorts, throwing back a sarcastic remark. "Cause you sound it."

She had eased a bit, growing soft and falling back into their usual banter. Their special dynamic always seemed to coax down his guard a bit.

"You're talking like a 1950's gangster in a speakeasy," She straightened a little and had begun pacing as much as the phone cord would allow her. "Ya know... More than usual."

Y/n smiled when she could practically hear the smirk taking over his face, and she certainly had no trouble picturing his hunched shoulders and intimidating snarl he was most likely dawning.

"It's a little somethin' called moxie, kid," he spoke with curled his words, imitating all the gangsters he had seen in those cheesy old films. "somethin' you just don't have,"

Y/n had rolled her eyes again, at least Richie could see her doing so when he heard her respond. "Right, right. My bad Baby Face."

"Hey!" He barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor as if she could see him. His voice lowered in a thick Chicago accent. "That's mista Baby Face to ya."

"Mista Baby Face Nelson!" She strained, her annoyed shout tainted with a laugh. "Are we meeting at five or not?"

Richie released a quick and silent breath, expelling as many nerves as possible.

"You bet your fur."

The exchange kept playing over and over in his mind and Richie wondered if the same rang true for Y/n. He hoped not, cause that would mean she was thinking about it too much. Hell, he was thinking about it too much now. A heavy sigh rolls off of his chest as every anxiety collectively manifests into its own dark thought.

Fuck, he really had it bad.

How pathetic he was.

Eddie would surely be horrified to know what Richie really thought of him, that was for sure.

And as if he hadn't felt crazy enough, the thoughts actually began to feel like voices calling him from the darkest shadows of his mind.

'And the other Losers? You'll be lucky if they even look at you again.'

Richie was surprised to find himself fighting back, pushing back as much as he could. Despite all the jokes and jabs, he couldn't be completely alone. A small part whispered in his heart that he wasn't, and he thought briefly of the turtle strangely enough but it was gone just as soon as it had come. All he knew was that whatever was telling him this thing was stubborn. But so was Richie Tozier.

He treated it as an intrusive thought. Made a decision then and there that it was, never occurring to him what it could be if wasn't.

No way. Not those assholes, he tells the voice. These are the Losers for fucks sake!

The more he thought about it the more he was sure of it. God forbid Eddie did find out, which Richie had no intention of, and what would happen was in fact unclear. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't picture the little spaghetti man ever cutting him out of his life completely. Not by choice at least.

Now Ben, that lovable sappy haystack of his that was too passionate for his own good. Richie may not be the silent type but he does pick up on things, and Hanscom's affections for Beverly Marsh were far from subtle. Always opening doors for her and turning redder than a tomato when she smiled at him. Not to mention Richie was about ninety percent sure there was a poem of some sort involved. And that was just Beverly, Ben was always thinking of the Losers. Now Richie knew for sure that boy had no hateful bone in his body to the point it was fucking annoying.

Mike, Richie felt, might be a little similar. The kid had a lot of heart, always going on about the animals on his farm. Would even go as far to say he considered them his friends, what with how much Richie knew about Mooriuel the calf and he hadn't even met her for cripes sake! Richie imagined he'd be a bit more shocked but would try some sappy speech when he came around. Would make a whole big thing of it, pat him on the back, and even invite a conversation. He scoffed at the thought, the image of Mike slapping him on the back and his signature grin... Yeah, he appreciated the hypothetical gesture but it wasn't Richie's style.

He could easily see Big Bill sputtering up a storm, but managing a smile. He'd probably even manage to forget their differences long enough to say something stupid but supportive. And Beverly and Stan were the ones he worried about the least. Stan would probably be too indifferent to care, throw him some snarky ass comment like, "took ya long enough, dipshit," and Beverly? Well, Beverly had always been cool, very laid back. She never took shit, and she never dished it out if she didn't think it was deserved which Richie admired greatly. This was one of many reasons he was so shocked she had taken Bill's side in the fight.

The thought brings him back down again, and as soon as the memory touches him so do the nerves in his jaw tensing up again where he had been hit. He could feel the punch all over again. And he suddenly remembers why he is here.

He is here, he realized.

Just around the bend, coming into view was the gravel pit. Old and crumbling it was, and overrun with weeds and bushes. One could easily scale in and out of it, and at the very bottom Rich had discovered one day was a beaten and tattered leather seat from a car that found its way from the junkyard just a ways over. This was where he told Y/n to meet him.

Y/n...

Jesus fuck, what would Y/n say? How would he tell her? Would she still wanna be friends with him? Would she laugh and crack a joke, not taking it seriously? Would she hate him for it? More importantly, why in the ever-loving fuck was he here and willing to tell her?

His gangly legs tumble into a sprint as he picks up momentum descending the uneven terrain. The rubber soles of his shoes kicking up the layers of dirt and shaved gravel that lay beneath the rocks and he had to put effort into not crashing as he comes to a stop. He manages to avoid a nasty fall, completely ignorant to the fact that his right foot had been only inches away from a root peeking out from the rocks surely would have broken his neck had he made even one wrong move. He puffs out his chest, dusting himself off, and once again tries to dispel the nausea broiling in his stomach like hot tar.

He closes his eyes tiredly as he drags his feet to the leather bench, letting his backside fall through the air and into the somewhat plush cushion with a deep groan. "Fuck."

His fingers rub his tired eyes, his fingertips finding bits of crust he hadn't gotten earlier and his knuckles brush his glasses further up onto his forehead. Not quite knowing what to do with the overwhelming thoughts and emotions clouding him, his fingers dig further into his eye sockets until all he can see are inky splotches behind his eyes.

Richie doesn't know why he would ever think those things of Y/n. He hadn't ever told her this, not directly at least, but she was just about the only person in the world he trusted most. He knew in his heart of hearts this was why he found himself dialing her number before he could even register what he was doing. Even after their separation and the bitter feelings they took with it, the Losers were and always would be his best friends in the world.

So why did everything about this feel so wrong?

From the moment the phone call ended, he felt like he was waltzing into a trap like some putz...

"Well, look who it is..." snarled a voice from up above the surface.

Richie's blood ran cold and it felt as if the remainder of the air in his lungs had been squeezed out like air in a deflating balloon. He whipped around at the voice, his head twisting up at the silhouetted figure so fast he was shocked he hadn't broken his own neck. The figure held their hands on their hips, thousands of the sun's rays spilling around them as they blocked out a part of the sun, an advantage they reaped from where they stood before Richie at just the right angle. His breath caught in his throat as he had recognized the voice immediately, but the figure didn't quite match the voice.

The last thing person he needed to see right now was Henry fucking Bowers, that was for sure.

The universe agreed so it would seem. The figure shifted, just out of the light revealing the teasing smirk of his best friend Y/n. Her hands snapped together, her palms forming a handgun, the barrel aiming right at Richie's forehead.

"The jig is up," she snarled. "We knows it was you. You was the ones to steal from Big Bill's dame, and I wouldn't be surprised if yous was in cahoots, neithers."

Despite the fear that had clutched his heart only seconds ago, a small chortle left Richie at how awful her accent was. Hadn't she learned anything from him? A smug smile overtook Y/n's face as he broke. She holstered her handguns and gracefully descended the pile of gravel. His smile expired not long after, and despite the thin veil of clouds creeping over the sun the light in the sky was much too hard to even glance at his friend without blinking back several painful searing tears from the harsh light. But he could still make her out.

She was dressed in her usual ratty and eclectic garb; a mix of something far too big for her frame and something that seemed far too tight to be comfortable. Richie was certain she had never once owned even a thread of clothing that had always been hers. Her s/c brow had its usual, light glossy sheen of grease that Richie had learned very early on to not ask about. But there was something about her now, something he couldn't quite place.

Though one question kept popping up in his mind. One that left an itch in his brain he couldn't quite scratch in his dazed state. And that was how could he have possibly thought she sounded like Henry Bowers?

He finds himself looking down at the gravel now, wiping away as much of the sun's damage pooling in his eyes as he can. Unbeknownst to him, she watches him studiously, the ghost of her smile still on her lips as if she was enjoying his discomfort. His long and gangly limbs are folded awkwardly, still, onto the leather seat that sits on the ground. Finally, she takes a seat beside him with a huff as he had.

As he rubs his tired eyes for a second time she takes a long look around, breaking the silence when her trip around the gravel pit lands on him.

"Well, you've looked better." She quips, offering a smile.

Richie snorts, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose with a friendly smirk. "This comin' from Raggedy Ann?"

They both breathe a small laugh and for a moment - just one beautiful, fleeting moment - Richie forgets he was ever scared. This is what he needed.

"So," she says, pulling his gaze towards her, sending him a cocky smile as a knowing look sparkles behind her eyes. "I'm guessing there's a reason I'm here, and not helping you with your summer training?"

Richie, for reasons unknown to him, feels his muscles tense up again involuntarily. Like a puppeteer suddenly yanking the strings, ripping his shoulders up to his ears and his muscles bracing. He felt rigid and he was, but he was doing all he could not to show it. All his unease came back in steady waves marching up the sand, but what could he do now? He could already feel her eyes burning holes into the side of his head as he kicked around a sizeable rock with the toe of his shoe, studying him. Waiting.

Finally, his shoulders slumped in a shrug, lower lip in an indifferent pout as he looked around at the sky hanging above the gravel pit.

"Just needed a change from all those ugly mugs, I guess," he manages a laugh, and he rises to his feet to lazily chase the rock that had rolled out of his reach.

He can feel her eyes on him still, and he doesn't know what to make of it until finally she breaks her silence with a chuckle and rises to join him. She catches the rock with the heel of her dirtied sneakers. They're worn down to the very last thread and several shades off from the original color. She kicks the rock back to him, and they engage in a lazy game of rock soccer.

"I can understand that," she says calmly, eyes trained on the rock as it tumbles across the gravel with several chunky clanks. "Reckon it'll be good for you, too,"

He frowns confused without looking up at her, winding one lanky leg back before one big kick. "Whad'ya mean?"

"Well, you don't wanna spend your whole summer inside of an arcade, do you?"

Richie's face freezes in a frown, the rest of his body going rigid. His eyes cement on the rock underneath his shoe, willing away the veil of tears that threatened to fall. Had he not been so caught up on why he was here, Richie might have had a clear enough head to realize Y/n wasn't there for that conversation, nor had she heard about it from anyone there. Instead, all Rich can think about is the small hypochondriac boy that had stolen his heart.

He can hear the conversation he had with his best friend, all those weeks ago when school let out. And if felt like a lifetime since he had seen that squishable, pouty little disgusted frown Eddie always put on that made Richie's inside melt. As if reading his mind, Y/n spoke.

"This is about Eddie, isn't it?"

Her tone is gentle but veiled. Something was concealed about the way she held herself, ever since she had arrived, something that Richie couldn't quite place. And there it was. He was right about her suspecting him, he must be. Richie battles the lump forming in his throat, and he can feel his ears turning pink under her unwavering and unblinking stare.

Richie does all he can to fight a snarky response, not knowing how else to navigate and survive the intensity of his feelings. All he manages to do is nod.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

"Rich, it's okay," she says, taking a step forward, his gaze is pulled to her eyes. And here it is, he thinks. The moment he had been dreading, the moment he hadn't even allowed himself to think about. "...I miss him, too."

His face caught in another frown. That's definitely not what he expected her to say. Quickly as he could, he wiped away a spot of snot at his nose. He had managed to keep the tears at bay but now they had found another way out. He felt like a fucking fool, and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Of course she didn't know what he was talking about. Why would she - how would she? His spirits were crushed, and he suddenly didn't feel like getting into it now. She seemed off today, not that Richie cared. All he wanted was for this whole day to be over with, not even knowing the worst had yet to come.

She studies his reaction, almost as if she had been waiting for this and she blinks for what Richie is now starting to realize must be the first time since she got here. Y/n's face screws into a frown, and yet there still lingered an uneasy smile that taunted him. Her eyes squint suspiciously at Richie, her head tilting in an expression he never knew he had always feared would come.

She laughs finally, a shrill and grating laugh he hadn't quite heard before and she nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on! It's not like you've got some faggy crush on him or something?"

When he doesn't answer, she scoffs, turning away and shaking her head in disbelief for a moment.

Richie felt he just might vomit. Or cry. Or both. He had never felt so distraught, so dejected. So broken.

How could she be saying these things?

He tries with all his might to conjure a response, any fucking thing at all so he wasn't some blubbering broken chump breaking down in front of her. But for the first time in his life, Richie "loudmouth" Tozier was speechless.

That fuck-awful grating laugh returns, a sour look screws up her face as she looks him up and down in disgust.

"Wait, seriously?" She gapes with a scoff, making him feel about two inches tall. "You actually think he'd want to be with some fairy freak like you?"

"F-f-uck off," he sputters, though he does not feel better.

The trembling in his voice, the vulnerability, hearing it in himself strips any remaining scrap of confidence he had left. He's crying now and there's no hiding it. And she heard it in his voice, he knew that now as he looks at her. Her lips curl into a malicious smile and she takes another step closer, Richie fumbles a step back.

"He isn't some," her nose crinkles as she continues to advance on him, the fire in her eyes building as he stumbles back to escape her sudden venom. "rotten queer like you."

Y/n spits the words out like they were poison on her tongue, and this was true in every way. Her fiery stare never left Richie, it burned holes right through him as she advanced on him like a wolf on a wounded doe. They were nearing the edge of the gravel pit, and Richie had nearly run out of room when her finger stabbed his chest like a sword's final strike to the heart, pushing him to the ground as she spoke those poisonous words.

Richie felt his backside meet several jagged rocks that brought even more tears to his eyes, though none of them hurt as much as her words. She towered over him now, the sun beating down on her back and pouring over her shoulders, trapping Richie in her shadow. She shakes her head, and he can still make out the pathetic look on her face as she glowers at him.

"It's girls he likes. It's me he likes." she points to herself, shaking her head. "He was mine the second he saw me, but you?"

She scoffs again, and her shadow releases him as she kneels to balance on her feet, legs folded before him with a snide look.

"You've always been the insufferable loudmouth he couldn't get rid of." A sharp laugh escapes her, the clutch on his heart tightening to dangerous amounts he fears it will give out. "Well, I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now, huh?"

His heart feels as if it has been ripped to shreds, the claws of the wolf had struck and now he was drowning in his own sorrows as pain as the heartbreak filled his lungs. Richie could no longer see behind the thick wall of glassy tears that blanketed his eyes, and the sounds of his own sobs amplified his embarrassment and despair. He was hopelessly broken, and he could feel himself crumble, each piece disappearing amongst the gravel underneath him until he couldn't be found. He blinked only once, but it was enough to send every tear racing down his cheek at once.

Another malicious smile contorts her face, her e/c eyes burning darker until they looked almost a completely different shade. Her lips seemed to stretch on and on and on in a way only one thing could. And it was then that it occurred to him.

Not one thing she had said to him is something he could have ever prepared himself for, each word constricting his heart and lungs and swelling his throat with the ever-growing lump.

Nor was any of it something she would ever dream of saying, he knew this now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

This wasn't Y/n, this was never Y/n. She had never showed, and if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own fucking head he would have caught on from the second "Y/n" arrived. Especially that entrance, Y/n surely would have fallen on her ass on her way down into the gravel pit never mind the fact her accent wouldn't be nearly as shit.

But none of this mattered now. This thing that looked like his friend had him cornered, and It knew it.

A wicked grin overtook the mask of Y/n's face that chilled Richie to his bones, and yet it also reassured him. Y/n was tough and could be scary from time to time, but he knew she could never be capable of the pure evil that now danced in It's eyes. Richie's body was already in motion, his arms and legs scrambling for any sort of grip that could take him up the side of the pit and to safety. But the gravel beneath him was always shifting, rolling out from underneath him when it wasn't raking his palms to pieces and all he was accomplishing was a small plume of dust that clung to his backside.

Richie didn't know where it came from, but his actions were faster than his feelings as his fist collided with It's nose. And no sooner did the heel of his shoe collide in a painful crack that sent It's head back, did his eyes widen in horrific shock. The painful crack that would surely haunt him for many nights to come, had not been from the collision of his heel on It's nose but It's head - or Y/n's as this was still It's disguise - had snapped completely back and dangled completely off It's/her shoulders.

The only thing connecting her head to her shoulders was the suit of s/c skin. Protruding from the center of her neck just under the skin was the end of her spine where it had disconnected, giving away a disturbing lack of muscles and veins in her neck as if it had been hollowed out like a pumpkin. Her head rolled back and forth limply, and Richie could feel bile climbing up his throat, ready to burst out his digested mac and cheese.

His mind was screaming at his legs to run while all was still but a small part of him knew this was all a gambit, that it didn't matter if she was frozen stiff or not. Richie knew as soon as he booked it, It would spring to life with something even more twisted. That now, without his friends, he was as good as dead.

And It was more than happy to prove Richie right.

The clone of his friend sprang to life, It's head still rolling around on It's shoulders. Connected only by the skin of It's neck, and moving around like some fucked up slinky toy. Richie was already halfway up the gravel pit, bits of rock and dirt finding their way into his shoes as he kicked up the earth though that was the farthest thing from his mind.

By the time Richie reached the top of the pit, he could no longer hear the thunderous boom of his heart attempting to break loose from his chest, which was saying an awful lot. His screams echoed out into the air only to be swallowed by the screams of other children and Richie didn't know how he knew this but he knew those were the screams of Betty Ripsom, Ed Corcoran... Georgie Denbrough. The bloodied screams of It's victims were drowning Richie as he ran for the junkyard, and he wondered if he might live to hear them stop.

The screams were so fucking loud in his ears he could see them. Each of them a blinding, deafening, gut-wrenching, and blood-curdling scream that danced through the air like ribbons as they begged for their lives. Richie cried out and he couldn't even hear his own voice, but he didn't let this stop his legs from pumping as hard as they possibly could. He was nearly to the junkyard, surely he could use something to fend It off but he knew he was just buying time.

He could taste the blood on his tongue from where his teeth bit into his cheek. In all his short life, Richie Tozier would not have guessed child-eating clown to be the way he'd kick the can. When ever the thought of death began troubling him, he always liked to picture something like a western. Him and his rightful enemy squaring off against good and evil, he'd shoot first and save the day but still sustain an injury and bleed out. But it'd be a hero's death. And that was something.

But this... this was something born out of darker than evil and Richie was about to be pulled into the gravity well of this black hole and swallowed up. And he knew in his soul, the very pits of his stomach it would reach out with its shadowy arms and pull him into darkness.

And it did.

Richie had been rapidly approaching the edge of the junkyard without realizing and within an instant found himself on the ground, caved in on himself as he tumbled in the dirt and rocks accepting he was to join them soon enough. He closed his eyes and waited for death as a hand curled around his shoulder and pulled him around. Another jolt of shock shot through his entire body at the sudden contact, locking his jaw and paralyzing his entire body in fear as he was met with the new threat. He didn't dare open his eyes, and certainly not when he heard his best friend's voice again.

"Richie! Richie?"

It was her again, he realized. Y/n's real voice, the one that he heard on the telephone that was dripped in static. The one now dripped in fear.

"Richie?!"

When the boy opened his eyes, they were filled with terror and his sobs continued. A lense Y/n never thought she'd see Richie look at her through. Her heart broke in an instant when she realized he was afraid... of her. Instantly, she released him and let her backside fall back into the gravel. She watched through a thick wall of tears as he trembled, crying to himself, and never in all her life had she seen Richie Tozier so broken.

It tore her apart.

She didn't have to be a genius to realize what had happened here. Before she had even reached the junkyard on her bike she had heard his screams strangled through the wall of trees gating the area. When she had reached the gravel yard, she was happy to see him still in one piece but he was running for his life from an invisible force. The damn coward had gotten what It wanted and scared him shitless, but why would he disappear just because she showed? She had wondered.

Now she was beginning to understand. It didn't need to be here to scare her. Just the sight of Richie in such a state was enough to tear her down and it took just about everything in her not to scream into the sky from a mix of fury and fear.

Besides the tears that race down her cheeks and wet her legs, all Y/n could feel was a painfully numbing fear. Fear that Richie would never be the same. Fear that Richie would never speak to her again. Fear that Richie would never trust her again. Fear for whatever the fucking hell that thing did to Richie. Fear that It would do it again.

All she felt now was fear for Richie.

Y/n doesn't bother to fight the sob that breaks loose, her bottom lip quivers violently and her arms fall to the gravely pavement beneath her. As if her head had filled with lead, it grew heavy enough to fall into her chest where her chin landed, shaking several more tears loose.

"I'm s-so sorry, Richie,"

Y/n yearns to say more, but her body is physically weak from sadness and shame. Yet still, she repeats it in her mind hoping with everything in her it slips out of her mouth, or maybe if she thought them loud enough he'd hear them in his mind.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for whatever happened. I'm so goddamn sorry...

"I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I promise..."

I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise I'm not gonna hate you. I promise I'm gonna be there for you, from now on. I promise.

Her sniffles blend with his own, and Richie is unsure why this is the moment he knows for sure this is the real Y/n before him; maybe he was just too exhausted to think it through, perhaps it was the godawful sound she was making trying to keep herself from snotting as bad as he was but he knew It had gone. And the Y/n sitting beside him — crying with him, was the one he dialed up today. This was the Y/n he had been prepared to bare his soul to. His true self.

So with one shaky hand — the other still tucked in close to his chest — Richie's left hand slid out from under him and across the gravel to Y/n's open palm. Her fingers were digging into the gravel, sharp edges of the rock digging into her skin as if to assure herself she was really real. Suddenly, she felt Richie's shaky palm slide underneath hers, carefully taking it.

Y/n picked her glassy stare up from the ground to look at their intertwined hands, and she melted a little. Several of those fears — not all of them, but some — were ebbed away and she looked to Richie. He was still curled up in the dirt, his eyes closed and silent tears streaking his dirt-covered face. Each tear paved a path of clean skin, washing the dirt away in wild streaks where ever each tear had fallen. Several large and swollen beads of tears collected at his chin where they dangled, threatening to fall.

She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him as she had promised him. And she was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed.

For hours that feel only like minutes, they sit together in tear-filled silence, clinging to one another's presence and the knowledge that they are now all they have left.

And there was no way they were letting go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here are some LGBTQ+ resources for mental health and self help if you feel you need them:

How do I find LGBTQ friendly therapy?

An article on safe ways to find the best sources of help that are right for you

The Trevor Project

Self Care Tips for Trans and Non Binary Folks

+++

Taglist:

@seasidecrowbar @geniedocroe @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @kricketwritesstories @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @cloudymotel @captainshazamerica @kaitlynjones12 @songbird-writes @traceylader @annimalq @russian-romanova @witch-of-all-things-soft @blogforhoes @darkcrystal-wolf @astrobre @opalpuff4073

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! ❥

#it #scars that heal #sth #sth 🎈#it 2017 #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak x fem!reader #tw f slur #tw homophobia #tw homophobic attack #homophobia #f slur #the losers x reader #losers club x reader #the losers club #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie tozier x platonic!reader #under pressure

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obeymehasinfluncedmythoughts · 3 years

Note

I’ve been silently reading for a bit now and love your posts. I was wondering if it was possible to do a poly MC, who had a facial deformities like facial tumors, and another demon making fun of them to the point of tears.

I've only known one person with something similar, and he's a very kind man. I imagine it's hard being stared, and even harder being made fun of for something you can't control and can't hide.

Hopefully I do this justice! It's mostly a comfort fic because tbh anything too specific makes it a bit harder, and insults are always specific. For instance, when I was in school I got called Hitler because my last name is extremely German. Teachers endorsed it, but I don't think anyone else could relate to that specific scenario. Thanks again babe 💞

Lucifer

He's extremely concerned when he finds you crying, tucked away in the corner of your room.

And when you explained what happened, he becomes extremely angry.

You see, before any of this happened, the two of you had talked over your concerns.

Human schools aren't always kinda to things they don't consider to be 'normal', and seeing as humans aren't inherently evil creatures, you were extremely worried about what demons could possibly say or do to make you feel less than.

He assured you that if anyone said anything, you needed to tell him, and he would deal with it.

He does.

Actually, they all do.

It's kinda like a cliche organized-hit on someone. Except, Lucifer is sentencing demons to ISS and making sure his brothers do everything in their power to scare the living hell out of them.

Word gets around and no one ever negatively comments about how you look, act, talk, ext. ever again.

Mammon

He witnesses it first hand, right at the entrance of the cafeteria.

You hadn't spotted him yet, no, you were too busy trying to move passed two demons leering over your form.

He could hear the harsh words coming from their mouths. Aggression and hatred he only though could exist in movies.

But, maybe it's a demon thing, a pure demon thing, because none of his brothers have ever been so cruel.

He immediately jumps into action, yelling and shaking his fist like some old fellow.

The demons are quick to scurry, but it's a bit too late by that point. You're already crying.

He comforts you with shakey, loving whispers and warm touches, promising you that you two can just skip the rest of school if you like. Lucifer won't mind after all. Not with everything that's happened.

You two can go to lunch else where or sit at home and binge TV until you feel better, yeah? Whatever you want babe as long as you promise you don't ever believe a word those guys say.

Leviathan

He sees read the minute he realize someone is picking in you.

Whether it's from fighting with people online or his repressed rage from being picked on himself, he isn't giving any mercy to the assholes who dared to make you cry

It really doesn't help the situation, for the most part.

In the moment it makes you stressed, you cry harder and a crowded gathers to watch one of your boyfriends beat up a demon for insulting you.

But later, it makes you feel proud. Like, you wish it wasn't so violent, but he defended you, and honestly, you're so happy to have that. Sometimes people wuss out, or don't see why words can be so hurtful, so having someone who does and is so ready to defend you is nice.

Satan

He's fuming when he finds you crying.

Satan doesn't even need to know why, he just knows he's pissed because you're upset and you shouldn't be. Not to this extent at least.

Like sure, silly tears resulting from a TV show are fine and what comes from grief is unavoidable, but these heavy drops of despair will not fly. You should never be upset to this extent.

When he discovers the exact reason as to why you're sad, he's set on getting revenge.

But first he comforts you, letting you know that you're beautiful and whilst it is hard to ignore the hurtful words of many, you must remember you have seven men waiting for you at home.

You're worth love, no matter what those asshole said.

(Then he proceeds to rip the lesser demons a new one. He handles it alone, thankfully, because if he hadn't the guy would be dead. They never bother you again.)

Asmodeus

Now, Asmodeus is a bit of an asshole himself.

He's known for picking apart people's appearances and style, but when it comes to you, you're the exception.

(Yes, he still makes the "I'm still prettier" comments, but that's honestly the biggest compliment you can get from Asmo at first. The longer your relationship goes on, the more you'll be put above him.)

When he comes across you sobbing on your phone, he's extremely quick to action.

He'll begin by tagging both the demons on his page, publically calling them out for their bullshit. (Which, may be controversial considering how old these demons would be as humans, but Asmo is like a beauty guru and doesn't care.)

He doesn't really have to lift another finger, but he does.

There's like five spammed post of you and the two of you together with long, loving descriptions.

They're so wonderful that it kinda overwhelms all the awful things that had been said about you.

Beelzebub

Baby boy is angry.

He's ready to tear apart the entire school

But he doesn't because he recognizes you need him now. You need his reassurance, and his strength, before he goes causing chaos.

He'll hug you, encasing you into a tight hold.

Once you calm down a little, he'll text the others to handle it, because he knows he can't really leave you at the moment.

Beel distracts you for the remainder of the night. Lots of snacks, lots of kisses to your face, and lots of cheesy movies he hopes will make you smile

He'll make sure everyone knows how much he loved you, and that includes EVERYTHING about you.

Belphegor

In any situation, he's very quick to get you to one of the others, because he's not going to be an extremely comforting presence.

He's enraged, and Belphie is not exactly known for being the best at controlling himself in these situations.

Someone is going to have to stop him, or calm him down at the very least. Rage is clouding his view, and everyone knows he's going to get himself hurt if he doesn't think.

Once he's settled down (or settled the matter, either works), he'll come home, rip you away from whoever is currently comforting you, and cuddle you to sleep.

It's like having a weighted blanket. You feel secure, and you'll fall asleep knowing you've got an amazing support system that knows you're absolutely beautiful.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

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ocegion · 3 years

Text

Nile is sitting on one of the couches of the safehouse, legs crossed and eyes on her screen as she lazily navigates youtube, when she hears an app notification loudly popping up a few feet away from her. She blinks a few times and looks up at its source.

Joe and Nicky are on the couch across from her, half-lying on each other as each of them reads their own book. Now, however, Nicky is grasping at his phone, slight grimace on his face as he looks at it, then exchanges a look with Joe, who sports a similar expression. A moment later they nod at each other and Nicky sweeps his thumb across the screen.

Their heads come together as they both focus on the screen, a certain degree of curious apprehension on their faces. They stay like that for a moment, then Nicky’s grimace comes back stronger than before as he tosses the phone to the edge of the couch. Joe just huffs, eyes narrowed, and his hand flies to Nicky’s head, gently massaging his scalp as he pulls the man closer.

It’s a few moments before either of them take notice of Nile’s fixed gaze. Joe looks curious, relaxing his hold on his partner a bit as he shifts his attention.

‘Is something the matter, Nile? You need anything?’

Nile now realizes she’s been staring, and quickly breaks her eyes away for a single moment before coming back, now with a teasing, somewhat incredulous grin on her lips.

‘I had gay friends back in Chicago, you know’ she comments easily. Nicky frowns in confusion.

‘You have gay friends now. We’re right here.’

‘I know, I know, not saying otherwise. Just… Some things are familiar.’ Neither of them seem to have a clue what she’s getting at, if their deepening frown is anything to go by. Nile’s amusement grows exponentially. ‘All I’m saying is, I know what a grindr notification sounds like.’

In the five months she’s been part of the team, Nile has barely ever seen Nicky show the slightest indication of nerves, let alone flustered. He’s about as impassible as a marble statue, but without the hard coldness to it. Now, however, she’s seeing with her own two eyes how a deep red quickly takes hold of his cheeks in the few seconds it takes for him to fully register what she’s said and hastily look down. He unconsciously leans towards Joe, who isn’t flustered, per se, but for once in his life seems to be not immediately sure what to say, mouth opening to start saying something, only to repeatedly decide to change his wording, then just shutting up with his lips turned a thin line.

‘What the hell is a green deer?’ Andy asks from the other corner of the room, where she’s taken off her headphones to pay attention to the current commotion. Nile brings her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh when Nicky groans in response.

‘Nothing important’ Joe grumbles lowly. Andy’s eyebrow rises, an equally amused and bemused expression hinting on her face, but she merely shrugs and puts her headphones back on. Nile can hear the music from here, and she’s going to have to remind her again that no healing means she can, in fact, go deaf if she keeps doing that.

For the time being, though…

‘Grindr’ she repeats, a delighted tone to her voice. The word seems to be some sort of spell that makes the both of them shrink on themselves, and she supposes it’s a bit mean, but they have behaved like the dignified, nearly-mystic millenium-old warriors they are every moment Nile has shared with them. She’s not going to let the chance to see them embarrassed pass so quickly.

‘There’s no shame in it, you know’ she says, and she means it. But she’ll admit that she says it knowing it’ll make Joe groan softly as he hides his face in his hands, and Nicky petulantly crosses his arms while pointedly looking away. ‘I mean it! I’m not going to judge you for your… Pastimes.’

‘This isn’t- This is not-’ Nicky stutters, brighter red if it’s even possible, and Nile is going to commit that look to memory because who knows when it’s going to come back. He wildly gestures with his hands, as if trying to grasp the words.

‘We were just curious, is all’ Joe supplies in a low but hasty mumble, nearly pouting and looking anywhere but at her. She raises her eyebrow.

‘I’d say you two are a bit late to be curious about this sort of thing. I doubt there’s anything you’ve got left to learn about this stuff. Well, being vanilla is okay in any case, even if it’s for a thousand years. Whatever suits you.’

Nicky stares at her, and opens his mouth to say something only to stop himself at the last second. He takes a long moment and in the end he settles, calmly, for ‘We were at a bar the other day, and we heard that grindr is the new space for gay men. We just wanted to check it out, keep up with the times.’

‘It wasn’t exactly what we expected it to be’ Joe adds, dryly. Nile takes a moment to stop herself from bursting into laughter. God, right now she really wishes social media wasn’t off limits to her, this is comedy gold.

She rises to her feet and throws herself at the other couch in between them. Joe and Nicky automatically make space for her, but they stretch their arms behind the couch to hold hands. They look at her curiously and she grins while she makes a beckoning gesture to Nicky.

‘Let me see.’

‘Nile!’ he nearly shrieks, half-scandalized. Nile is reminded that despite looking like he’s on the flower of life, at the point where maturity hasn’t started chipping away at youthful vigor, he is, after all, a grandpa older than most countries he steps into. Unfazed by this, she gives him a look that has him begrudgingly handling her his phone while muttering something under his breath.

Despite their complains, they seem very interested in whatever she’s going to do, both of their heads touching hers as they look at the device in her hands. She can’t help but be endeared by Nicky’s phone: His wallpaper is a pic of Joe sleeping (she’s willing to bet her next 30 lives that the opposite is true for Joe’s phone), and beside a sudoku app, the phone is pretty much barren. Except for grindr.

‘You should expect some, uh, unsavory things in there’ Joe mutters, somewhat apprehensive. Nile gives him an unimpressed look.

‘I’m not a child, Joe, no matter how many times you all say it. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more than you had at my age.’

However, she goes directly to their profile. It’s the only thing that holds her curiosity, really, everything else has a very low chance of being anything she hasn’t already seen in her other friends’ phones. It is adorably innocent, considering what they knew about the app. It’s got a selfie of the two of them with Joe kissing Nicky’s cheek, another selfie of Joe at the beach with that backwards cap of his and sunglasses, and then a third one of Nicky reading, which she’s pretty sure Joe took while he wasn’t aware of it.

The profile is pretty much empty otherwise. The description is a mere ‘curious couple’, which, again, is adorably innocent considering she knows who they are. Not so much to anyone else, though.

Just in that moment, just as she’s about to check the chats just to drag the experience out, the phone rings with a new message. She opens it and-

‘Wow’ she says as she drops the phone, and you know what, she had forgotten the part about just how forward some guys could be. Had repressed it, most likely.

‘I know’ Nicky wails, picking up the phone and putting it at a safe distance. ‘We’ve gotten so many of those. And people who call Joe ‘daddy’. And asking about our, huh, positions. We keep expecting something a bit more… Mild. Just friendly. But no luck.’

‘We tried to start a few conversations, with some of the more, umm, dressed guys’ Joe continues, voice conveying a deep desolation within his soul. ‘It never goes over five minutes before they ask us if we want… Well. I’m not going to repeat it.’

Nile is, once more, struggling to keep the laughter inside herself. The sulky look they both give her has the laugh finally escaping her. ‘You are two attractive, young-looking men’ she says once she’s got her air back. ‘Of course guys are going to be interested. I think at this point you’ve figured out what guys are looking for in here.’

There is a brief silence. ‘Don’t get us wrong, it’s great there’s enough freedom for this… Thing, to exist’ Nicky says, more serene than he’d been a handful minutes ago. ‘It would have been unthinkable a handful decades ago in a country like this. It’s just not what we were expecting.’

‘It used to be about romance’ Joe adds, still somewhat sulky and looking at the phone like it had personally insulted him. ‘There used to be seduction, yearning, poetry. Courtship has changed a lot since we were young, we know, but this just skips it altogether. It’s lacking in taste, is all.’

Nile could repeat what the app was for and that there were other places they might find something more suitable to their tastes, but another, far more important thought crashes into her mind. She smirks.

‘You know I’m going to have to notify Copley about this, right?’

They both look like they’ve seen a ghost. ‘You absolutely don’t’ Nicky mutters, pale.

‘I absolutely do. No social media at all, remember?’

‘We were going to delete it anyway’ Joe begs. ‘We’ll do it right now in front of you.’

Nile pretends to think about it for about five seconds. ‘But what if someone has saved those pics of you?’

The look of dispair on their faces intensifies. ‘They can do that?’

Nile has no option but to roll onto the floor as she laughs harder than she has in a whole year.

#theyre old men yelling at a cloud. bless their hearts #Nile Freeman #Yusuf al Kaysani #Nicolo di Genova #Kaysanova #joenicky #my writing #shitpost #its basically a glorified shitpost tbh

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lokislittlesigyn · 3 years

Text

// loki spoilers

This is basically a huge infodump on my thoughts about the first episode, because I doubt y’all want to sift through my trauma-ridden ramblings. I’ll make another post for the rest. This is just everything not related to the IW stuff/my reaction to that. It’s general thoughts, theories, musings.

1. When Loki gets first taken into the TVA. Is that Peggy Carter in the background? Others have suggested it might be. What would that mean??? Will we see the TVA fix the mess the Russos made with Steve/Peggy (not likely) or is it just a lookalike? Who knows..

2. A skrull at the main intake desk! Idk not super relevant just interesting!

3. I’m kind of glad they changed the... uncomfortable scene... with the robot burning his clothes off. He gets more time to react to seeing the machine itself, and he seems more shocked (”Now.. H-hang on just a minute.”) than angry (”Now hang on just a minute!”) i still feel.. horrible for him, i’m glad nobody Saw him and that the machine didn’t grab the clothes off, but still. Ehhh.. uncomfortable.

He is beautiful though, don’t get me wrong - I’d just prefer a shirtless Loki scene where he wants to be shirtless? let him do what he wants with his body?? he’s probably felt so out of control of his body, from being jotun to falling through space that any invasion of privacy like that hits extra deep...

That being said, I recognize the utility of the scene for the narrative - his lack of control, his literally being stripped of what he was before.

4. WHO IS THE MAN WITH THE CAT. What is his name. I love that he has a mug with his cat on it. But I want to know more. Who is he?

4.1 WHY DIDNT YOU LET LOKI PET THE CAT Please,,, I am begging you,,, let loki pet the cat and have something react kindly to him and purr all happily at his scratching behind their ears plea s e

5. The info sheet. Now this is just a little nitpicky tidbit, but in a previous promo they listed Loki’s height as 6′4 ft and weight as 525 lbs. This is taken directly from the comics if I’m not mistaken. However, in the actual show he’s listed as 6′2 (Tom’s height and Loki’s presumed height) but I don’t remember if his weight is the same. Is Loki 6′2? 6′4? please let me know i want to know how smol i am in comparison

6. His little aggressive shaking of the ticket at the guard makes me giggle each time.

7. The fact the turnstile hits so low on him reminds me,, I am short compared to him. Those things hit my stomach/waist. That one hit his legs. I am once again asking Loki to pick me up.

8. The cartoon with Miss Minutes introducing the TVA is wonderful, I love the art style especially. But it raises questions about Variants... I guess Variants can just, pop out of nowhere? Any action could be the wrong one? And then once you commit the wrong action you either get returned or pruned? Yikes??? And THIS ties into another thing later!

9. The trial scene. I have a hunch - a feeling, a suspicion. That one of three things may be true.

A. The Time-Keepers never actually existed. They’re fabricated, and now whoever runs the TVA is actually using the excuse of “The Time-Keepers decree it so!!!” to carry out whatever They think is right. The fact we haven’t seen the Time-Keepers makes me.. suspicious...

B. The Time-Keepers existed, but they have since passed on, however that may have happened. Now someone is doing the same as above, using the excuse of the Time-Keepers apparent dictations to run things.

C. The Time-Keepers do exist, and do run the timeline/TVA, but maybe they’re not infallible? Maybe the TVA info video is lying or incomplete in some way? Idk I just feel like, something about the TVA and how they run things has to be wrong. It has to? Something is off. Again, this will tie into another thought later...

I have no idea if any of these are actually true! But Loki’s questions of “Who’s in charge here? What do they do? What do you do?” punctuated by laughter leads me to believe he’s suspecting something too, or perhaps just trying to figure this mess out.

10. Seiðr/Magic. We see in this scene, Loki’s magic (”powers”) don’t work in the TVA. (and a quick side note, did he have to Flex like that? do you have to make me see Loki’s bare arms Flex like that? be still my heart. anyway please get that collar off of him and let him rest for five minutes) This makes me wonder.. Why isn’t Loki in his Jotun form? His pale skin and blue eyes are decided by magic, are they not? I suppose this is 2012, so perhaps Odin’s magic is keeping Loki looking like that. But if magic doesn’t work in the TVA, why would his spell reach so far? Clearly Loki’s magic isn’t what’s doing it. How is Loki not appearing as a Jotun? Is his Jotun form repressed - is pale skin his default now, rather than something hidden by magic? I need answers!

11. he sounds so scared about being “reset” please dont hurt him,,

12. cALLING LOKI A PUSSYCAT? (lokitty confirmed) I think Mobius was goading him (Mobius strikes me.. As extremely clever. He’s trying to push Loki’s buttons to see who he’s dealing with. At least, I hope so. Because if he really meant that “You were born to cause pain and suffering and death... All so that others can achieve the best versions of themselves.” and that line about killing Frigga??? No no no he is not guilty. He had no way of knowing what would happen. It wasn’t right to send Algrim up to Asgard (i think algrim wouldve found the way up anyway) but there was no intent to hurt Frigga. I really hope you’re trying to goad him, Mobius, because if you believe that I trust you much less. anyway i digress) but wow is he pushing Loki’s buttons a lot. I can’t... Blame him entirely, I understand he’s trying to make sure Loki’s on his side, maybe I’m just too soft for Loki idk. But some of that was very cruel to say. /:

12.1 AND ANOTHER THING ABOUT MOBIUS. That scene with the girl in the church?? Did that little girl kill the men? Is that young Sylvie? Or is she using an illusion to make herself look young and innocent? What’s going on!!!!

13. LOKI SNATCHING THE LITTLE TIME-TWISTER DEVICE AND STOWING IT IN HIS POCKET.... POCKET....... sorry sometimes i get so caught up about loki that i just say random words in between little noises and squeals,,, i am a silly thing

14. CASEY. CASEY??? That whole exchange is funny. Poor Loki, just trying to intimidate this guy so he can escape but - Casey doesn’t know what a fish is. to be fair.... thor doesn’t seem to know what a raccoon is... right?

15. That bit with the infinity stones is kind of funny until you realize

A. Natasha died for a paperweight

B. Tony died from paperweights

C. Loki was tortured for paperweights

D. Oh, and Gamora died for a paperweight too. And Vision. Need I go on?

Then it becomes less of exclusively “haha funny” and now it’s a mix of funny and pain and gosh, is that a good way to sum up being a Marvel/Loki fan sometimes...

16. Loki gazing at the timeline all “Is this the most powerful thing in the universe?” or something, i’m sorry i don’t remember exactly... made me think of a meme and i shall make it presently.

17. I love that Loki got to see examples of how his family loves him but the fact he’s all “I can’t go back.” really just breaks me. It’s like he can finally see they love him after all of this mess, and now he doesn’t have the chance. Please, please let him be happy. Give him some relief. This is the Loki that just came off finding out about being Jotun, falling from the Bifrost, encountering Thanos, attacking Earth, facing defeat, and now he’s being thrashed around in this wild place and has just found out he inadvertently caused Frigga’s death (he did not kill her: his actions, by mistake, lead to her murder, let me be very clear) AND Odin will die AND all the rest... And he wants to be with them.

18. Loki’s reaction to Thor suggesting the hug makes me soft. Please I want to hug this little mischief man so so so bad-

19. Skipping over the iw parts! That’s for another post because this one will be grossly long anyway.

20. “I don’t enjoy hurting people.” and “It's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear. A desperate play for control.” was all so, so validating. I’ve been trying to argue on Loki’s behalf for almost a solid decade. Seeing the show recognize that Loki’s not all just violence and hurting for “fun”, that he’s not unhinged and bloodthirsty.. Is so nice. It’s just so, so comforting. and it gives me hope for future episodes that they won’t go the route of “oh haha loki bullied and mistreated and stabbed thor for years!!! :)” loki cries during basically every fight with Thor and you want me to believe he stabs Thor for fun? absolutely not.

21. Theory.. Just another hunch.. So we know a fugitive variant, aka Loki, is running amok. Refer back to 8 and 9.C. What if the Time-Keepers never actually fixed the timeline into a single timeline? What if there are other timelines, and these different Loki variants have hopped over to the current one? Or, maybe the Time-Keepers did fix the timeline into a single one, and these Lokis are remnants from that huge time-war at the beginning? Time runs differently in relative spaces, they may have Just Left that war from their perspective!

I say Lokis and not Loki because we’re pretty sure there’s Female/Lady Loki, Old Man/King Loki, and possibly Young/Kid Loki. That’s at least three. From the peeks of Asgard and NYC we’ve seen from the trailers, I think we’re also getting an Asgardian King!Loki and Midgardian King/Vote!Loki. (unless our dearest variant is hopping into timelines and situating into them, but I doubt Mobius would let that happen..?) That’s five.

To further support this, keep in mind, I believe recently six (i think 6 regular and 6 rare...) different funko pops were announced for the series? I’m not sure if they’re in addition to the Loki and Mobius already released. If they are, there’s enough room for each Loki and maybe a TVA agent. One of the pops is supposed to have a buddy/companion I think? Maybe they’re making the cat guy into one, or maybe there’s something else (Throg, anyone?).

22. That is totally Lady Loki/Sylvie at the end by the way. Has to be. But why does she want the reset devices? Why did she snatch that TVA Hunter? Again, WHAT’S GOING ON

ANYWAY this was a very long post if you made it this far, I commend you.

#no proofread only post #long posts about loki #loki #loki series #loki spoilers #sigyn says WORDS #SPOILER HEAVY

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milazka · 4 years

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 | 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 & 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝐨𝐛.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟒.𝟐𝐤+

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲? 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐉 𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞?

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲

𝐚/𝐧 : 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬...

─── °• ❀ ───

Let's go back to the summer night

When we met eyes, it's like a movie line

Kissin' underneath the city lights

The Outer Banks movie night was and still is one of the oldest tradition of your town. It's one of the few occasions where kooks and pogues are peacefully reunited. Just like last year, when your family had moved in the neighborhood between Figure Eight and the Cut, you are joyfully attending the movie night presentation which has the 60's for theme. It’s a decade that has always fascinated you, whether it is for the colourful fashion, the music of the King or the golden years of your idol and role model Audrey Hepburn.

“The first movie is Grease!” Your best friend Tara joyfully says as she sits next to you on the blanket with the presentation leaflet in her hand.

“It doesn't even take place in the '60s!” You exclaim, a little bit offended.

"Doesn't matter, it's a good movie."

"Plus, John Travolta is hot as hell." Adds Ashley, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Who's hot as hell? Me?"

Kelce, as usual, makes you and the two girls burst out laughing with his casual comments. You met him a few weeks ago after Ashley finally decided to introduce you to her boyfriend. They had been seeing each other for a few months already, but she was afraid you wouldn't like her boyfriend, knowing your mistrust of the people of Figure Eight. At first, you had found him pretentious and boastful, like most kooks, but after a few hours of talking and getting to know him, your first impression was all gone.

"Are the boys coming?" Ashley asks in the ear of Kelce to keep you and Tara from hearing, but it's a total loss; the girl is the worst whisperer ever.

"What boys?" You ask, curious.

"Oh, um, I asked Kelce to invite Rafe and Topper so you wouldn't be the third wheel, you know.

"Ashley!" You and Tara both scream at the same time. "You need to stop this!"

“Stop what?”

"Stop pretending to be Cupid!" You shoutback, rolling your eyes.

"I promise you, girls, they're super nice and perfect for both of you!"

"Yeah, right. I'll believe it when I see it." You answer, still sceptical, before getting up. “I'm gonna go get some popcorn.”

The waiting line is not very long, it is mainly children in need of sugar who are impatient to buy their cotton candy with their little coupons given by a bored woman at the entrance. You giggle at the sight of a young boy whose face is covered by the pink sticky candy. It goes all the way up to his hair and you can't help but think of his poor parents who will have to clean everything up before putting him to bed tonight.

"What are you laughing at?"

The voice belongs to a boy on your right who looks a few years older than you. He's got light brown hair that are mostly covered by a backward cap. His bluish gaze details your face, causing you to blush a little. You cannot deny that he is good looking.

“I was laughing at the little boy right there." You answer him by discreetly pointing the boy.

A smile that would make any girl fall slips into the corners of his lips.

"He looks funny."

You smile in response and walk up to the order booth, purchasing three bags of popcorn for you and your friends.

"I guess I'll see you around." You say to the blue eyed guy when you turn back around.

“I hope so." He winks.

You go back to where your friends are sitting on the grass, unable to repress the stupid smile on your lips. You soon realize your place is taken by a young man with brown hair, obviously one of Kelce's friends.

“Y/n, that’s Topper.” Tara introduces you and you can see the stars shining in her eyes when she looks at the boy.

Looks like someone's already found their prey, you think without saying a word to avoid ruining your friend's chances with him.

“Nice to meet you, Ashley's told us a lot about you.” He says with a nice smile.

"Oh, I have no doubt, she can't keep her mouth shut, can she?"

Ashley tries to hit you, but you duck and laugh at her until you bump into something hard. You look up to meet two familiar blue eyes.

“We're already bumping into each other. Took less time than I thought.” He says before you take a step back, feeling his arm sliding on your hip.

You didn't even realize he had wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you from losing your balance.

“Rafe, you know Y/n?" Kelce asks the boy.

“I met her in the waiting line.” He responds before bringing his gaze back to you. "I didn't know you were a friend of Ashley's."

“And I didn’t know you were a friend of Kelce.”

"Well, don't just stand there, the movie's about to start! Ashley exclaims. "Here, there's two more places on this blanket."

“What a coincidence.” He whispers to your ear with a smile as you sit cross-legged next to him.

You laugh, subtlety has never been your friend's strength. Rafe lies down on his back, standing on his elbows to see the giant screen. The familiar music from the beginning of Grease echoes through the loudspeakers, silencing the spectators. You can't help but observe the boy on your right. The sleeves of his sweater that fit his biceps perfectly, the little strand of rebellious hair that keeps falling out in front of his eyes even though he puts it back in place every time, the cheeky smile at the corner of his lips as he thinks he's stealing a popcorn from you without you realizing it.

As Dany and Sandy are rocking on the dance floor, you feel a hand on your thigh. With his eyes still fixed on the screen, Rafe pretends not to pay attention to you even though he knows very well that your eyes are on him.

You take a sight at your two friends who are in an intense make-out session with their boys.

"Looks like we're the only decent ones." Rafe whispers to you, making you giggle.

"Or the only stuck-up ones." You add with a mocking smile.

"Did you really just call me uptight?" He asks pretending to be offended by your comment.

“Maybe.”

"Well, I'm gonna prove you wrong."

His hand slips into the back of your neck and he gently makes your head lean down towards him. Your lips press down on his; they are soft and taste like salted butter. His fingertips gently brushes your skin at the back of your neck as you rest on of your hand on his arm, sending shiver through your spine. He amplifies the kiss by sliding his tongue against yours, tasting every part of your mouth as if it was an exquisite desert. Your lips move at the same rhythm, attacking the other in order to taste them more and more. You separate, lips swelled and glossy.

“Still uptight in your opinion?"

“Hmm, I'm still not completely convinced. I think I need another demonstration." You tease Rafe and he pulls you back to him with a mocking smile on his lips.

But now you're laying in another guy's arms

'Cause I'm all gone

But when you look in his eyes

Do you think of mine?

And when you look at that smile

Do I cross your mind?

I know in your head

You see me instead

It would have made a year today. A year that you would have been happy together if he hadn't chosen to spend the night in your bed with another girl five months ago. A tear slides down your cheek as you look back on all your beautiful moments. The first time he told you he loved you, the time you took a road trip on a whim, the first time you went further than a kiss; it all went up in smoke when you opened the door to his room and saw him over a woman's body that wasn't yours. You remember very well how you felt your heart being ripped out when you saw his shocked face when he heard your angry screams mixed with the moaning of the blonde girl he was fucking in your bed.

"Babe, are you ready to go?" Will asks you from your room.

"Yeah yeah, just give me a sec." You wipe the tears off your cheeks and sigh at the reflection of yourself in the bathroom mirror before instinctively grabbing your coconut lip balm; Rafe's favorite one.

Electronic-style music can be heard all the way to the end of the boneyard, the place of choice for kegger parties. Like all parties organized by John B and his crew, this one is a complete success. You're sitting on a log, your head resting on Will's shoulder as he gently runs his hand over your back. He's literally an angel fallen from heaven. You met two weeks after your catastrophic breakup with Rafe. You were a mess, dressed in your oldest clothes. Your parents had forced you to go out, as they couldn't bear to see you moping in bed listening to Grease over and over again. You were a few blocks away from your house when you saw him kneeling on the sidewalk next to a little girl who had most likely just fallen off her pink bicycle. Your heart had melted when you saw him holding the little girl in his arms to comfort her, rubbing his hand on her back. Your gazes had crossed and he had smiled at you, making you blush up to your ears. Three months later, here you are together and happier than ever, at least, in his mind.

"Babe, I'm gonna go get another drink." You kiss him on the cheek before you get up.

You sneak among the bodies that sway on the sand to the rhythm of the music. As you are about to reach the keg where JJ is, a hand closes on your wrist and pulls you towards the wood without you having time to react. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his, filled with rage.

"What the fuck Rafe?!" You shout to the boy who just let you go of his grip.

"I see you found a good rebound." He tells you, completely ignoring your question.

"He's not a rebound; he's my boyfriend."

Rafe lets out a fake laugh as you cross your arms and defy his gaze.

"Yeah, sure. I bet you still think about me when he fucks you."

You sigh heavily, not even surprised by his comment. Rafe was always straightforward and harsh during your arguments and that doesn't seem to have changed.

"Just to remind you, you're the one who cheated on me!” You snap back to him.

He says nothing, furiously running his hand through his tousled hair despite the gel. He had stopped wearing gel when you were together after you told him you loved his messy hair. His nostrils swell under his heavy breathing.

"We don't know what to say, do we, Mr. Cameron?" You toss to him before you start to walk away, but you are stopped by his hands grasping your hips. He quickly turns you over, colliding your bodies together while his lips crash hard against yours. You try to step back, to be reasonable, but the alcohol in your blood and the familiar smell of his cologne keep you from doing so. Your thoughts are clouded by his soft lips brushing against yours, you missed it, you missed him. His hands pulls you closer to him, you could feel the air being knocked from your lungs. The feeling of his tongue tugging on your lips make you moan and you can feel the cocky smirk on his lips. He doesn’t even wait for you to grant him access and slides his tongue in your mouth to meet yours. Realizing what you're doing, you push him away. The guilt overwhelms you as you think about Will who’s inevitably wondering where you've been all this time.

"It-it was a mistake." You breath out before walking away from him.

"We both know it wasn't, Y/n. Stop lying to yourself!" You hear him shouting at you, but you do not turn around, not wanting him to see the tears streaming down your cheeks.

And I'll admit that I sometimes, maybe, might

Think about you at night, well, almost every night

No matter how I try to hide

And erase you from my mind

I'm dying

To find a lookalike

The thin black fabric of your dress adjusts to your every curve up to your mid-thighs. The long sleeves are made of a partially transparent and you are wearing a pair of high heels in the same color as your dress.

"It looks like you're on your way to a funeral." Your mother notices when she sees you walking down the stairs.

"Well, it kind of is a funeral; you know I hate formal thing." You sigh on your way to your dad's car.

"I know, sweetie, but it's an important moment for you father."

"Don't worry, I'll be a good girl." You smile to her as she close the car door.

When you arrive at the house, you’re not surprised to see an array of cars, each one more expensive than the next; the people in Figure Eight have no notion of excess spending, especially when it comes to the price of a car. Your heart beats at full speed when you set foot in the garden of the Johnsons, one of the most influential families on the island and whose father is Ward Cameron's good friend. It's been a year and a half since you and Rafe broke up and four months since you left Will. You couldn't keep lying to him about your feelings, he was the sweetest guy you'd ever been with, but you didn't love him. The breakup was handled in a mature way and you're still on good terms.

"Y/n! You're so pretty my girl!" Ashley's voice takes you out of your thoughts as she hugs you.

"Look at you! You're stunning! I bet Kelce will be speechless when he sees you.”

"This is the goal I'm aiming for." She winks at you and grabs your hand, a more serious look on her face." You feel okay seeing Rafe again? If not, Tara and I can sit at a different table with you, Kelce and Topper will understand."

"No no, I'm not going to ruin your Midsummers because of my love stories. I'm a big girl and I can tolerate Rafe for one night." You assure her with a smile.

"Great! Come on, let's go find Tara."

You missed Topper and Kelce, they've been making you laugh ever since you sat with them at the table. There's no sign of Rafe yet, and that's perfect. You still get a twinge in your heart when you see the way Topper looks at Tara with stars in his eyes or when Ashley tenderly kisses Kelce. You miss it. As you take a sip of water, you spit it out almost instantly when you see him on the porch; not alone.

He is wearing a grey suit matching with a white shirt of which he has unbuttoned the first two buttons. His hair is straightened backwards, it's grown a little longer since the last time you saw him. It's not so much his presence that makes you freeze, but rather the girl who’s standing beside him, her arm hooked to his; she looks exactly like you. You don't seem to be the only one who's noticed it by the questioning looks on Tara and Ashley's faces. Hand in hand, they make their way to your table and you don't deign to look up when they sit at the other end of the table near Kelce. You can't help but feel your chest tightening when he introduces Megan, the girl, as his girlfriend. Ashley clearly saw the change of expression on your face since she stands up and pats you on the shoulder.

"I have to go to the toilet, will you come with me?"

You nod and get up, thanking her with a glance as you walk away from the table where the so-called girlfriend of Rafe literally devours his face.

"I'm sorry, Y/n, if I'd known he was bringing a girl, I wouldn't have told you to sit with us." Ashley apologizes while you sit on the bed in the guest room with your face in your hands.

"You couldn't have known he was going to bring my long-lost twin." You sarcastically say.

"She's literally your lookalike."

"I don't know whether to take it right or wrong."

"I don't know either." She exhales and hugs you tightly. "I'm gonna go back to the table, but stay here and take your time and join us after."

You let yourself fall on your back on the cozy bed when Ashley close the door behind her and you let out a long sigh. You never thought that seeing Rafe with another girl would upset you so much, considering you've been broken up for over a year. With your eyes still closed, you don't react when you hear the door open again, being certain that it's Tara who comes to see if you're alright.

"I'm fine Tara, don't worry about me." You whisper as you feel the mattress collapses to your left.

She doesn't say anything, which surprises you a little, but you still don't open your eyes, being sure that tears will flow if you do. You then feel a hand resting on your belly and a face close to your ear where a deep voice sends shiver through your body.

"I'm not Tara."

"What the-." You start, but you're quickly cut off by his lips crashing down on yours to shut you up.

These lips, you could recognize them out of a thousand. Pulpy, a bit harsh and so skillful. His hands are grabbing your hips, almost too firmly.

"Did you really think you could wear that dress in front of me and I wouldn't do anything about it?" Rafe groans, pulling slightly away from you.

"I'm not wearing this dress for you." You manage to say, out of breath.

"You're lying, baby girl." He looks deep into your eyes in a way that keeps you from staying sane. “I can't control myself when I see you in such a tight piece of clothes.”

He moves his hand up to your thigh, stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your dress. Goosebumps are covering your skin. You're paralyzed; you want to feel him touch you like he used to do. A smirk makes his way to the corner of his lips when he feels you squirm as his hand slowly lift up your dress. He lays his fingers over your core still covered by the thin fabric, applying a little pressure on your clit.

"I bet you've never been this wet for Will." He whisper to your ear with his deep voice.

His wet lips drop into the hollow of your neck, sucking and biting your burning skin. You can't contain your moans when he blows on a sensitive spot that he previously licked.

"I'm gonna drive you wild, baby girl." He rubs his palm over your covered core, focusing particularly and painfully on your ball of nerves. As you squirm under him, the bottom of your dress comes up, revealing your wet womanhood to him.

"You're not wearing panties? Naughty girl."

His fingers slip easily between your dripping velvet slits as he bite your lower lip, making you whine. He adds pressure to your clit and you close your eyes, enjoying the waves of pleasure running through your body. He lifts up your dress until it covers only your chest, your naked belly now at the mercy of his lips. His tongue sensually draws a line from the top of your belly to the upper part of your core, tickling you a little. You try to buck your hips up but he pins them firmly on the bed.

“I’m the one in control, baby girl.” He says and you nod.

“Please, Rafe.” You breath out.

“Please what, princess?”

“Make me feel good.”

The color of his eyes changes, becoming a darker blue. He pushes your legs wide open, dipping his head between them. The feeling of his tongue between your folds makes you see stars; he was the best at this and he was proudly aware of it.

“Fuck Rafe.” You moan as his lips start to suck your bundle of nerves. You can feel him smirk while he slams his index and middle fingers into you without losing focus on your clit. The familiar knot in your lower stomach grows as he pumps faster and replace his mouth with his thumb and start to making eight figure shape on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“R-Rafe, I’m cumming!” You cry and he moves his lips back onto your core as your ride your orgasm.

“Mmm, you taste like heaven.” Rafe hums on your sensible folds while your legs are still shaking from how hard he just made you cum. He licks his fingers without breaking your gaze.

Kneeling on the bed between your legs as you sit yourself, he let his eager eyes running through your half-naked body. He grabs the hem of your dress, mumbling a ‘we gotta take this off’ as he pass it over your head. Before he has time to do so, you unbutton his shirt and put your lips on his chest to mark it with a hickey like you used to do all the time. You unbuckle his black pants, pulling them down with his boxers. His hard cock springs out, pre-cum dripping from it and you grab his shaft with your hand, jerking it a couple times. He looks down at you, his lips partly open as you pump him.

“You have angelic hands, baby.” He groans, letting his head fall backwards. You smile, loving to see how well you still pleasure him.

"I wanna cum in you." He exhales, stopping your movement. He pushes you down back on the mattress, spreading your legs again. The tip of his cock rubs on your wet lips still sensitive from your last orgasm. Without warning, he push himself into you, wrenching a loud moan out of your mouth.

“You’re taking it so good.”He grunts, gripping your hips to slam deeper into your core. His hair, previously styled perfectly with gel, are now going over his eye as he looks down tp watch himself fuck you.

“You missed that huh,” he mutters. “Will never fucked you like that, didn’t he?.”

You don't say anything, moaning with pleasure as he hit your g-spot.

“Answer me!" He orders you, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. You try to keep your eyes open in spite of the electric jolts that run through your body when he slams and the sound of your skin colliding with his reaches your ear.

“Y-yes, fuck, fuck, you fulfill me better than he ever did!” You manage to scream out.

“That’s what I thought.” He grunts and you clench around him, rubbing your fingers over your clit as he pounds faster into you.

“Fuck baby girl, do it again.” You clench harder around him, making him drop his head in the crook of your neck as he moans your name. He digs his fingers into your hips, surely creating bruises on your skin. You rock your hips at the same pace as his, feeling his cock hit spots that makes your legs shake in pleasure.

“Fuck Rafe, your cock feels so good.” You moan. He lifts his thumb, brushing past your lower lip and you suck it, making him quicken his pace.

“Cum for me baby girl.” He tells you as he thrusts into you, replacing your hand by his on your clit. You cry out his name, releasing yourself on him.

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming!” He grunts and you tightly clench your walls around him, helping him release his cum inside of you. Rafe drops down next to your shaking body on the bed, his chest moving rapidly to the rhythm of his breathing.

"What about Megan?" You mumble, biting your lower lip.

"She’s just your lookalike.”

milamaybank’s masterlist

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mooifyourecows · 3 years

Note

34 and 46 !! u can choose whatever ship 😝

Right, so DaiSuga of course.

Hmmm let’s see. 34 is “Vacation” and 46 is “Blind Date”.

Let’s get into it 💪

Okay so first let’s figure out what sorta vacation.

A road trip? Cruise? Exotic resort? Excursion up Mount Everest?

Easiest ones would be a Cruise or Resort. Let’s pick Resort because I already have a fic where the characters go on a cruise and I don’t want overlap.

So, some real fancy Resort on a tropical island or something.

Let’s say a group of people went together because of one reason or another. Like hmmmm a self-help kinda thing? Maybe Daichi went through some shit recently. A messy divorce. If I wanna get deep and serious about it, perhaps it was a very bad and traumatizing relationship or OOH, let’s go with the fact that Daichi is gay but has repressed his sexuality his whole life, wound up marrying a woman, and finally divorced her in his desire to follow his heart.

Okay good. This lets me make Daichi really lost about what to do next. He’s gone his whole life denying this part of himself, which could have bred some anxieties and mental illness. BUT! Lucky for him, there’s a support group for that! Kinda like grief counseling or AA, a bunch of LGBT people who have suffered the same kind of repression and don’t know how to embrace their true selves meet up once a week or so and talk about it.

Right. So, this gives me opportunity for ANGST but also really soft and beautiful “find myself, accept myself, love myself” development 👀

Daichi doesn’t buy into the whole counseling thing at first. Thinks it’s kinda weird and cheesy and c’mon, he’s a grown man who just so happens to be gay and it’s not that big of a deal okay get over it.

Except he DOESN’T get over it. Any time his friends manage to convince him to put himself out there and find himself a nice guy to date, he BACKS OUT. He’s just not ready, he tells himself.

But it’s been a while. And he can’t deny the fact that he’s a little lonely and he really wants to find love. He’s a hopeless romantic, after all. Always has been. And now he’s at a point in his life when he’s admitted this big part of himself and he just wants to ACT ON IT but he CAN’T and ugh, it’s frustrating!

Soooooo, the group arranges this vacation! A getaway! “Let’s go to a resort and do our little counseling sessions, participate in some fun group activities, listen to some speakers who wrote books on acceptance!!” and ya know... the whole shebang.

Daichi thinks it’s stupid. No way is he doing that. Sounds stupid. And unnecessary. And weird. And stupid.

But his friends bully him into it. It’ll be good for him to get away. Bro, you’re so tense and snappy these days. Go swim in the ocean. Drink some pina coladas on the beach. Dance in the moonlight. Somethin like that.

Having reluctantly agreed, he sets off on this group vacation. And as soon as he’s there, he feels better about it. The resort is beautiful. The weather is fantastic. Everything is comfortable and chill and relaxing and hey, maybe this is JUST what he needs after all?

Now, in his group, he’s made some friends who have had similar experiences to him. Oikawa, Kuroo, Bokuto, the usual gang. I would most likely have little storylines for them too but we really only care about DaiSuga rn so let’s ignore them.

So, at this resort, Daichi is finally starting to loosen up. He’s doing exactly as he was told and drinking bahama mamas and wearing lame hawaiian shirts and he’s sitting in sand and looking for seashells and damn, he feels better already.

But the point of the getaway isn’t to just relax and catch some rays. Sure, those things are encouraged too, but people are supposed to be learning how to accept and love themselves, perhaps take a chance on seeking love and affection from other people.

And Daichi has just been SKIPPING all the group activities. Granted, they’re not REQUIRED... but c’mon man. At least TRY.

But all the while that Daichi is relaxing and having a good ol’ time, there’s this ONE guy that works at the resort and he seems to be EVERYWHERE. He pops up to offer Daichi another drink just as he’s falling asleep in a floaty in the pool. He’s there with fresh towels at his hotel door. He’s taking his order at the restaurant like seriously does this guy work EVERY job at this joint?

And on top of that, he’s so chatty. Every time he and Daichi cross paths, he takes time to talk his ear off. He’s a little obnoxious but it’s cute, in a way, and they wind up bantering and it’s a kinda fun. It’s a break from the relaxation and he manages to laugh and yeah okay the guy is good looking so Daichi isn’t TOTALLY against talking to him, even if he knows he’ll never get the courage to flirt with him like he kinda sorta really wants to.

Anyway, the people that arranged this whole vacation finally take Daichi aside and are like “bro wtf, you’re not even trying. Please participate in a few of the events.”

Daichi feels a little guilty for snubbing the program so he reluctantly agrees to go to any event they choose for him.

Great, they say.

They have just the one, they say.

And thus Daichi is signed up to participate in a blind date. Ew, what the hell, why is that even a thing? I mean.. he gets it, sorta. But he soooo doesn’t want to do it. Like at all.

A blind date? He can’t even flirt. What makes them think he can date? A man? A MAN? They’re insane.

Still, he made a promise and Sawamura Daichi doesn’t go back on his promises! 😤 (not to mention Oikawa and the others would never let him hear the end of it if he backed out so ugh, there’s that too)

He gets all dressed up for his date and goes to the restaurant where he’s supposed to meet the guy. He gets seated at his table and he sits and he waits.

And waits.

Wow. Okay. Not a good start. Daichi’s first attempt at a date and he gets stood up?

Could the night get any worse?

Yeah, because that cute guy he’s been seeing everywhere is his server and Daichi can tell that he knows what happened by the way he’s coming around every minute and making some other excuse like “maybe they got sick. it happens. people eat too much seafood and rum and that’s the end for them for the next few days.”

Daichi kinda wants to disappear. Then the mods for the group show up and apologize, say that the person they picked out for him to go on the date with had actually found someone that he really liked already and didn’t want to do the date anymore.

Great.

Well, at least Daichi tried. Now he can go back to getting drunk on the beach and soaking up 3000% of his recommended dosage of Vitamin D.

“I’ll do it”

wait, what?

The cute guy who has been bugging him all night pops up out of nowhere. “I’ll do it,” he says. “I can sit in as his blind date for the night.”

Wow, a pity date. Daichi wants to refuse, but the mods are thrilled and they accept it without hesitation. Yep, sure, yes, you are the date now. Daichi, don’t move out of that chair, you promised you’d do it so you gotta do it.

They leave them to it and they finally order some food.

“It’s not really a blind date anymore,” Daichi admits.

“Sure it is. The whole point of a blind date is to date someone you don’t know, right?”

“I’ve been seeing you everywhere since I got here.”

“Sure but do you know my name?”

Daichi looks at his nametag. “... Derrick.”

“You’d think, right?”

“What, you’re saying your name isn’t Derrick?”

“God no, do I look like a Derrick?”

“Not really. But why would you wear a name tag with someone else’s name on it?”

“Why would you go on a group retreat and not participate in any of the group activities?”

“Because they’re stupid.”

“I’ll tell you what’s stupid.” He removes the nametag and tosses it over his shoulder. “I don’t even work here and yet they keep letting me pretend like I do.”

Daichi just stares at him in silence. Like... what? What does he mean he doesn’t work there? He’s always wearing the uniform. And making drinks at the bar. And carrying around stacks of towels. And selling stuff at the gift shop.

What does he mean, he doesn’t work there?

“Who the fuck are you then?”

“Sugawara Koushi.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Well I hope not. This wouldn’t be much of a blind date if you did.”

Their food arrives and Suga immediately starts eating, as if it wasn’t freaking WEIRD that he’s been pretending to work at the resort the past few days.

Who the heck is this guy? Why is he so weird? Is he a stalker? Has he only been following Daichi around? No... he’s seen him running errands all over. Is he just bored? What the hell????

Their date goes on, and Daichi is able to put the weirdness out of his mind for a bit because like... Suga is so fun. He has interesting stories and his laugh is so loud and bright and contagious and okay c’mon, he IS super cute and Daichi is KINDA into him, even if his mind is totally REELING over the realization that he’s been pretending to work there.

They finish their date and it was actually really nice and Daichi kisses Suga on the cheek at the end of it and ahhhh why does he feel so shy and giddy all of a sudden? He’s a grown ass man but he suddenly feels thirteen again. He goes to bed hoping that he sees him again the next day.

He does.

And he’s wearing the resort uniform, this time with a nametag that says Tiana. He offers Daichi a towel at the pool.

“Get your ass in here,” Daichi tells him.

“You’re the boss!”

Over the course of the rest of the vacation, Daichi and Suga get closer and it’s romantic and eventually Suga opens up, admits that he was taught by his past partner that there wasn’t much about him worth liking. In order to please them, he constantly pretended to be someone else.

He’s well aware that he’s not Derrick or Tiana or any of the other nametags he borrowed to cosplay as resort staff. He’s not delusional or crazy or anything like that, he swears. But... it’s nice. Pretending to be someone different. Someone he can invent to have the good qualities that he doesn’t have. Someone with a history that he wished he had.

He knows it’s weird and outlandish and creepy but he’s on vacation for fuck’s sake! So what if he wants to cosplay as a waiter or towel boy if it makes him feel good about himself? Huh?

So like naturally the drama would be Daichi not knowing if what Suga shows him is his true self. They have a little journey of self discovery and acceptance of both one another and themselves and fall in love and there’d probably be an emotionally fueled fight out on the beach at night that ends in passionate kissing and going back to one of their rooms and then the next morning is the day they go home but they have different flights, considering they came with different groups and they don’t know what it means for them.

Suga doesn’t know if Daichi will even like the Suga that exists back home who still kinda hates himself and wishes he was someone else and Daichi doesn’t know if he’s even capable of putting his anxieties aside and they say goodbye and it’s dramatic and emotional and yada yada

Then like uhhhhh obviously they would get together. Maybe Daichi runs off to Suga’s city and shows up at his apartment and he sees that Suga lives in a tiny, messy apartment and it’s unglamorous and not near as exciting as that guy he met at the resort but it STILL is him and Daichi wants to make him feel like it’s worth being unabashedly himself and he confesses his love and they kiss and the end I guess

somethin’ like that?

#daisuga #ask meme #mashups #long post

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allegra-writes · 4 years

Text

The Intervention

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none

The Request:

Peter and Reader hanging out at the compound. They fall asleep together and Tony finds them. They insist they are just friends but have feelings for each other, even if themselves don't know it yet.

Tony ships it.

For @sovereignparker

MY MASTERLIST

Tony Stark was at his wits end.

He, who had built the first iron man prototype in a cave, invented time travel, and pretty much single handedly defeated Thanos and his army, didn't know what to do. And it was all your fault. Well, yours and Peter's, actually.

At first it had been… kind of cute. Endearing. The way you both were so obvious yet so oblivious. You and Peter had grown really close after the blip, a little too close, in fact: Always hanging out together, watching movies or playing video games, or just doing nothing. Tony had never seen Peter spend that much time at the compound before. And he was sure you definitely didn't use to hang at the lab so much before either.

Then had came the most noticeable signs, like you wearing Peter's hoodies and Peter sporting one of your hair ties on his wrist. Peter's ringtone for you was "Uptown girl" for fucks sake! (some stupid punk-pop cover, cause his protegee had no taste apparently).

It had all reached its zenith during that mission in Bahrain, where the enemy had managed to land a solid one on the quinjet and the whole team had been stuck on land for the night. They had been forced to pile up in this cheap hostel, all six in the same room. And there were enough beds for everybody but you and Peter had started fighting over the top bed of the bunk and it had been vicious. Until you both had agreed to share it, that was.

Every single one of the Avengers had been convinced you guys were a couple after that, including Tony. But the thing was, Peter Parker was shit at lying. And he insisted you and him were just friends, and he did look like he was telling the truth. So Tony had started looking through the security cameras, watching hours and hours of footage of Peter and you together. Pepper had scolded him, telling him what a horrible invasion of his firstborn's privacy it was, but the thing was there was nothing private there: No making out, no pda, NOTHING. Not even pecks on cheeks or hand holding.

So he had resigned to the fact that you and underoos were completely platonic.

Strangely enough, he had felt… disappointed.

"That's not strange at all, Tony. You love Peter like a son. Y/n dating him would be the perfect way for him to officially become a part of this family" Damn Pepper and her way to psychoanalyze him.

"Yeah well, apparently, when I wanna do that," Pepper raised an eyebrow at his husband's use of 'when', not 'if', "I'm going to have to adopt him. Cause I have to do everything in this house!"

The redhead rolled her eyes and went back to her book, leaving Tony to his brooding, blissfully ignorant to the ideas already taking shape in the billionaire's mind.

But for the first time in his life, nothing Tony did seemed to work. He had tried sending you notes from a secret admirer, but you knew Peter's handwriting. He had tried pairing you both at galas and balls, but you both had disappeared with Harley and that crazy socialite Kate Bishop for an impromptu shooting competition. He had even tried locking the both of you in a closet, but since the vulture guy incident Peter had developed claustrophobia and a panic attack wasn't very inducive to romance. Steve had drawn the line at sending you undercover as a couple on a fake mission.

"He just doesn't want to lose the bet" Clint had told him. Tony was too afraid to ask.

That's why he wasn't even surprised to find the both of you, asleep together on the couch that sunday morning. Oh no, what he was, was completely fed up. He walked past you, straight into the kitchen where the rest of the team was having breakfast, like a man on a mission, standing in front of the coffee maker, capturing every one's attention. He turned around, meeting Rodhey's eye.

"It's time"

That was all he had to say for the Avengers to leave their plates and cups where they were and stand up, following the man of iron back into the living room. They formed a semicircle in front of the couch, with Tony standing tall (or as tall as a man who was 5'7 could stand while surrounded by gods and giants and supersoldiers) and assertive in the middle.

Peter's tingle must have sense something was amiss because the boy immediately stirred.

"Oh, hey, mister Stark" He greeted, rubbing his eyes, voice hoarse from sleep and low, obviously trying not to disturb you, "sorry, we must've fallen asleep watching the movie.."

"Cut the bullshit, kid" Tony interrupted, unsmiling and straight to business, "this is an intervention"

"Wh-what?"

"We care about you and y/n very much," Clint continued, not giving him time to react, "but we can't go on like this any longer"

"This situation is hurting all of us, especially yourself, kid" Cap took over. Whatever this thing was, they had obviously rehearsed it, "There comes a time in every boy's life when he has to stand and take responsibility of his feelings like a man"

"So this is us, giving you an ultimatum," Bruce chimed in, "either you tell y/n how you feel…"

"Or we do" Thor finished.

What. In the everloving. Fuck?

"Guys, we're not… it's not… I-I'm not" Peter sputtered helplessly, very aware of what a light sleeper you were and how awkward things between you could turn if you heard this conversation. You were even shier than he was, even though you hid it better, and he didn't want anything to ruin your friendship, you were too precious to him. "I am not in love with y/n!" He whisper-yelled at last.

Tony crossed his arms, turning defensive.

"Why not? Is my daughter not good enough for the amazing Spider-Man?"

"What? No- I mean yes, I mean…" Peter sighed, rubbing his face with the hand not wrapped around you, still keeping you close to his chest throughout that whole… intervention debacle, "Your daughter is brilliant, and kind and amazing, and with all do respect mister Stark, she… well, she's hot! But not like in an objectifying kind of way, more in a she's really beautiful and I'm not blind kind of way and I don't care what the press says she is perfect and any body who can't see it is either blind or an idiot. If anything, I am not enough for her, but even so, I still want to be by her side because she's… because I…" Peter's rambling came to a halt, the boys eyes opening wide in horrified realization, "... Oh my god, holly shit, I'm in love with her, aren't I?!"

A chorus of "finally" and "duh!" and "it was about god damned time" filled the living room, as Tony repressed the urge to roll his eyes and instead smiled kindly at the teenager holding his older daughter in his arms. He used to think that the day he saw something like that he would have felt dread, or anger, or at the very least protectiveness. But he felt nothing of the sort: he felt… calmed. He knew you were in good hands. Maybe that was what was making the difference.

He patted the boy on the shoulder,

"Glad we could have this talk, underoos. Come on, team, I feel like getting donuts for breakfast. To celebrate, you know? Let's go get the jet!"

The room got emptied as quick as it had been occupied, leaving Peter stunned, his head a whirlwind of emotions. He was in love. With his best friend. With the most perfect girl he had ever seen.

With a girl in fact so perfect, so out of his league, he might as well have been playing a different sport.

His heart sank into his stomach, killing most of the butterflies nesting there, and severely maiming the rest. He was screwed. There was no way you would like him back, just… none. He looked down, maybe your peaceful sleeping face could bring some calm to his disturbed brain, you usually had a soothing effect on his nerves.

But your face wasn't peaceful, or sleeping. No, you were looking back at him with a thousand different emotions flickering behind those pretty doe eyes of yours.

He closed his eyes, as if that alone could deny the reality of that moment, the moment his world was sure to fall apart.

"You heard all of that, didn't you?"

"Yeah," You murmured, voice catching slightly in your throat, "yeah I did"

"Great. Awesome" he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He didn't want to ask this, he really didn't. But he had to know the answer. "Now what?"

Frozen in place, he felt you crawl over his body, until you were nose to nose with him.

"Now? I think now… we kiss" You breathed against his lips.

His heart skipped a beat. Right before starting running, galloping wildly, like an untamed horse.

Yeah, he liked that idea...

The end.

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girlasterisk · 3 years

Text

hi i’m bouta write a headcanon-theory-meta-backstory-fill in the blank thing cus i cannot stop thinking about dean struggling with his bisexuality throughout his life. fair warning though, it’s gonna be long (and yes i’m blaming john so if you do like him, this post will most definitely not be for you) !! also !! abuse and homophobia mentions as i go on !!

(this post is just pre canon. i’m still writing one for the canon timeline so i’ll link that here when i finish. also if you wanna be tagged when i post the next one lemme know!)

ok so like around 14/15 dean starts to notice guys as well as girls. he didn’t know people could even feel this way. he’s never really heard john’s opinion on gay people so he wasn’t influenced by him yet and it was just internal conflict for dean at that time. eventually he realizes that there’s nothing wrong with him and that bisexual do people exist.

i think up to this point he’d probably gone out with a girl briefly (like a school dance or something). then, in whatever town they’re staying in at the time he gets a boyfriend. unfortunately john finds out and when he does he hits him and calls him all sorts of names and slurs and then they drop whatever case they were working on and leave the town immediately. (keep in mind sam doesn’t know bc he thinks or was told that it was from a hunt or a fight at school)

so this has all happened right around the time of the flashbacks we see in 9x07 (bad boys). so now they’re in a new town with a new case and this is where dean steals the food for sam cus they’re out of money. dean gets caught, john says to let him rot in prison (bc he’s a homophobic little bitch and thinks that’ll do dean some good) and dean gets sent to sonny’s. (also see dean’s marks on his wrists which we all agree was not a werewolf, it was john. so that would line up here)

so, sonny’s. now at this point dean has the mindset that being gay or bi or anything not straight is bad and wrong and dirty and weak. so while at sonny’s we know he gets a girlfriend (robin). i think that when he knows he has feelings for her his thinking (bc of john) is now like “i’m not bad or weak! i have a girlfriend” and this is where the repression continues. so then the rest of the time at sonny’s ensues and eventually john comes to pick him up.

so now, john is not really acknowledging dean and is just treating him like a soldier that’s only purpose is to do the job (i wonder what this could possibly lead to?) to break the tension, dean tells him about his girlfriend and he notices that this makes his dad treat him a little better (not great, but improvement) dean notices this and keeps this in mind. he also notices that the more he just shuts up and does exactly what his dad tells him, the more it’s seems john is respecting him.

now the new york cbgb story. for me this happened around the time dean got more comfortable around his dad. bc over time he sees what he thinks his will dad like and respect him for, so he continues to do those things and mold his personality around those traits. so, he sneaks out to the club right, and this is purely hc but i think ok he sees guys he thinks are attractive but he doesn’t want to feel that way so he goes with this woman and he gets drunk for the first time to push down le gæïę. ofc now he’s drunk and he’s lost his inhibitions (somewhat) and he gets involved with the people there (girls, guys, we don’t know)

now, john finds him. (at this point dean is just with the woman you’ll see why) and dean being drunk finally has the courage to tell him he hates him and for john it seems like it’s coming from the fact that he took him away from the party, and it is that, partly, but it stems from, you know, other places. i think john was only upset with dean for sneaking out to this party and it would’ve been much worse if dean had been with a guy when john found him. but luckily it was not a guy, so dean only got “it’s not my job to be liked. it’s my job is to raise you right” which for my headcanon theory brain is meant to be like “straight is right” you know? like as if part of raising dean “right” was to literally beat the gay out of him bc of course that’s “wrong”. and this then attributes to deans mindset of gay is wrong, he has to be hypermasculine and super straight.

so from then on dean continues to build this super masculine like manly man no homo personality, but always in the back of his mind is the part of him that knows he’s bi even when he denies it to himself. at times though as he gets older and does see gay people on cases or even celebrities he slowly starts to see more people are like him. i don’t really know when it happens, but at some point, he admits to himself that yeah he sometimes wouldn’t mind guys (and that’s the most he can admit to himself but it’s ok) he never tells anyone bc he still has this part of him that tells him he’s wrong for this and that’s what keeps him from acting on those feelings often.

if he’s interviewing someone without his dad or is simply without his dad, he might be a bit flirtatious towards guys and even though he would never speak of it, he can’t stop thinking about it.

he goes on like this until one time john is gone and he’s going to be for a while so dean allows himself for once to actually pursue a relationship with this one guy he met in town. i’d say dean is 20 and sam is 16. so sam is in high school and he’s been feeling restless and cooped up for too long. he does notice dean is close with this one guy but doesn’t think much of it. anyways, one day when dean is out with his “friend” sam decides to run away. to get out. this is when sam gets bones (the dog) and lives on his own for 2 weeks (see 5x16)

obviously when dean comes home he goes frantic and can’t find sam (i like to think sam did leave dean a note saying he left though so that dean wouldn’t think he died) but dean blames himself for leaving sam to go be with his boyfriend. john calls and dean lies and says everything’s fine and john is coming back soon. dean has to find sam before john comes home. unfortunately he doesn’t and john is absolutely livid. [insert “and when dad came home” face here] he beats dean and says some really awful things and tells dean that he has to find sam. a few days later, he does, and dean takes him home. (i do have headcanons on what this did to sam too)

this entire experience leaves dean with the idea that this is karma for being bi. because in his mind, if he was just straight, he wouldn’t have had a boyfriend, he would’ve watched sam, and sam wouldn’t have run away under his watch. once again, he goes back into pushing down that side of him, bc to him whenever he lets himself explore that side, bad things happen.

ok time skip. sam’s left for college and john kind of understands that he’s lost one son (by his own doing), so determined to not lose dean as well, he gives him more independence and let’s him start hunting on his own. he still hunts with dean sometimes but now dean also does solo hunts.

at some point on a hunt with his dad, dean meets lee webb. [insert backstory we got here] and eventually dean and lee go on a few hunts together. there is a definitely thing that happens there between lee and dean and it ends bc they eventually go their separate ways, but it doesn’t end badly and that’s why in 15x07 they’re friends.

i know he had other relationships like cassie and i’m not really sure when he met lisa but maybe it was around here. but with this little freedom and independence from john, he still thought that part of him was dirty but sometimes if something happened between him and a guy he would let it happen. but he would probably feel terrible after as if what he was doing was wrong and made him weak (because thank you john for that a+ parenting)

so that’s the end of my pre canon theory-meta-headcanon stuff! stay tuned for the canon timeline cus i’m still writing that. (if you wanna add something or comment on this feel free to and if you would like to be tagged in part 2 lemme know!)

tags: @justcynicalbelieverthings

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #dean is bi #dean’s bisexuality #spn meta #spn headcanons #spn theory #spn headcanon #spn rant #john winchester’s a+ parenting #j*hn #sam winchester #spn stanford era #spn pre canon #i’m thinking about this #neena.exe #it’s my dean struggling with his bisexuality post

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years

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Untouchable - Ch 7: The Fisher King: Part 2 (S2E1)

Summary: A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: mentions of death, swearing, death threats, graphic injuries

Ch 6 | Ch 8

~ ~ ~

When Lydia got back to the conference room, Spencer was the only one there. He stood directly in front of the whiteboard, murmuring to himself. He’d written ‘Possible Book Titles’ across the top, but so far had nothing listed.

“The rest of the team leave you to figure this out on your own?” she asked.

He startled slightly, not having heard her walk in. “Um, JJ and Morgan are going to interview Rebecca Bryant’s parents… and Hotch and Gideon are interviewing the guy who brought the numbers to Haley.”

“Someone found him?”

“He turned himself in,” Spencer explained. “So, now it’s just me and the evidence boards.”

“Now it’s us and the evidence boards,” she corrected. She sat down and picked up the medication bottle from the table. “Sorry I stormed out.”

“Sorry you were so stressed,” he mumbled. “We didn’t mean to push you.”

“You didn’t. It was important for you to know. I’m just… so done with this, you know?” She stopped herself. “Sorry, of course you do. You were on vacation when you got these weird messages. I was just home doing my schoolwork.”

“Lydia, stop apologizing,” he argued. “This is very stressful, we’ve all been here a long time, and you got a package delivered to your door. I can easily understand why that’d freak you out.”

She shrugged. “I just feel like I should be able to piece together these clues the unsub’s giving us and I can’t.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he agreed, indicating to his empty list.

She looked over the label on the bottle in her hands. There was a patient name, a doctor’s name, drug, and an RX number. Prescription bottles always had more than that. They had instructions, pharmacies, manufacturers, fill dates, expiration dates.

“This number must mean something,” she wondered out loud. “He didn’t put any unnecessary information on it, but there’s a long RX number.”

“Read the number out loud,” Spencer told her.

He wrote it across the board as she went. “3-1-5-1-2-1-2-5-3-2-0-1-5-1-8”

“Okay,” he stepped back. “We can start with the basics. A equals 1, Z equals 26.” He got to work, writing the corresponding letter underneath the number.

C-A-E-A-B-A-B-E-C-B-

He stopped at the zero. “That’s definitely not a word. But some of the letters have double digits, so… let’s see if we combine everything we can combine…’C’ stays the same. The 1 and 5 could be fifteen, which is ‘O’...” He began again.

C-O-L-L-E-C-T-O-R

“Collector?” He stepped away. “That mean anything to you?”

Lydia shook her head.

“Alright. Collector. Collecting things. He’s collecting things.” He snapped his fingers so sharply Lydia almost jumped. “Collector! Baseball cards, music boxes, butterflies, skeleton keys. These are all things people collect!”

“That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

He shrugged. It was basically impossible at this point to rule anything out.

“Medieval,” she rambled. “Collectable things. Numerical codes. What else have we got?”

“We’ve got this note from the music box?” he offered. “I think I’ve heard it somewhere, but I can’t place it… And I think the book was published in 1963.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s the year on the baseball card, but it’s not the year Gideon went to all those games. If the unsub knows Gideon likes Nellie Fox because he went to almost all the White Sox games in 1959, why give him a ‘63 card?”

“Okay,” Lydia agreed. “So, the type of butterfly JJ got, that probably means something too, because she collected butterflies, not pale clouded yellow butterflies.

He nodded. “Let’s get Garcia to look up some of these things and see if we find anything.”

She followed him out as he dashed towards Garcia’s office. He was very stiff and awkward when he was in a rush, she noticed, but he refused to run through the office. She was glad for it at the moment, seeing as with her foot, she probably couldn’t keep up with him, but it was almost comical, the way his feet skipped underneath him with repressed anticipation.

Garcia looked up when they walked in, then turned back to her computers. “This guy is infuriatingly good. He routed his IP through major corporations, crisscrossed it through countries, bounced it off satellites-”

“I thought you already tracked the hacker,” Spencer said, pausing behind her and glancing over her shoulder.

“No, I only found what he wanted me to find,” she huffed. “Apartment where Giles was dead. Reid, a hacker capable of getting into my systems is going to have amazingly sophisticated equipment. Did Giles’s apartment have that?”

“He didn’t have a couch,” he responded.

“Exactly. Giles was a smokescreen I should have seen through. But now I have this glorious program I wrote, tracking the hacker through his other identity: Sir Kneighf.”

“Sir Kneighf?” he cried.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “The doctor on the prescription bottle!”

“The what?” Garcia flipped her chair around and Reid leaned over to see the name on her screen

“K-N-E-I-G-H-F. That’s an odd spelling.”

She waved him away. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, is there a database, which lists all the books published in a given year?”

“Individual publishers have lists, but I don’t think there’s anything like a master one. Plus it would depend upon the year, because the further back you go, the less likely there’ll be any database at all.”

“1963.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ok, that would be an example of extremely less likely.”

He hummed in contemplation. “Could you do me a favor? Type something into a search engine for me?” She pulled herself back up to the keyboard. “‘Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight’.”

“Okay, that’s from a poem, ‘The Parliament of-’”

“Fowls!” He jumped in recognition. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Chaucer! My-” He hesitated. “My mom used to read me that. It’s widely considered as the first Valentine’s poem.”

Garcia chuckled. “Your mom read you Valentine’s poems? Hello, therapy.”

Lydia smacked her over the shoulder.

“Chaucer. Chaucer. ‘Parliament of Fowls’.” He began mumbling to himself again, trying to fit pieces together. “It has to be at least 283 pages long. Something published in 1963… A butterfly indigenous to Great Britain. Why? Something born. Something from Great Britain… Medieval. Chaucer. Chaucer was Middle English. Middle English spelling of the word Fowls… F-O-W-L-E-S…”

Lydia thought he was losing it, but somehow, this rambling was productive, because he blinked and ran back over to Garcia’s side.

“There- There was a contemporary british author-- Fowles. John Fowles. Will you type it into a search engine?”

“Uh… He wrote The Magus, he wrote The French Lieutenant’s Woman-”

“Anything in 1963 published in Great Britain?”

She narrowed her search and her computer started beeping. “Yeah. The Collector.”

Lydia wanted to scream. Finally, they were on the right path. “Are you serious? The code on the bottle was the book title.”

Garcia clicked on the book and the cover photo showed up, which ruled out any chances of the book being a coincidence. Three objects were displayed underneath the title of the book: a butterfly, a skeleton key, and a blonde lock of hair.

“I’m gonna start calling libraries. We need a copy of that book immediately,” Lydia said, leaving abruptly.

~ ~ ~

“Hello, my name is Lydia Ambers, I work for the FBI. We’re in desperate need of a very specific book to help us on a recent case. We’re looking for a copy of The Collector by John Fowles, but it has to be a copy that was published by Jonathon Cape. Would you have any of those?”

Lydia followed Reid and Garcia to one of the interrogation rooms, to talk to Hotch and Gideon about their findings, but she was thoroughly distracted by her call and ended up stepping on their heels a few times accidentally.

“According to our database, we should have two copies, but it’s going to take me a while to search for them. Can I call you back once I’ve found a copy?”

“Yes, thank you.” She hung up and promptly tripped, falling between Reid and Garcia’s shoulders. She would have run directly into Gideon if Reid hadn’t grabbed her by the arm and held her up steady. “Sorry!”

She shuffled back behind her two friends and let them talk to Hotch and Gideon.

“We know what the book is,” Spencer explained. “The Collector by John Fowles.”

“You sure?” Gideon demanded. They were both clearly on edge. Hotch had his arms crossed which didn’t look comfortable in his suit and Gideon was punchy. She didn’t fail to notice the way he and Garcia avoided each other's gazes, Garcia more than him. He was still pissed at her and she was probably thoroughly embarrassed. And hopefully, a little pissed too, because Lydia believed he’d been way too harsh on her.

“Not absolutely. Not until we see if the code works, but Lydia’s called four separate libraries to search for the 1963 edition published in Great Britain.”

“Well done,” Hotch complimented the group, tiredly.

“Agent Gideon,” a woman called, approaching the group of them, “there’s a call for you on line two. Says it’s extremely urgent.”

“Is there a name?” he asked.

“Sort of. He calls himself the Fisher King.”

Lydia groaned before she could stop herself. Everyone raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry. The Fisher King is the one who guards the Grail. You know, the one that ‘Sir Percival’, over there is supposed to find.” She pointed at Reid, who was grabbing the notepad the woman had in her hands.

“This could be the unsub, guys,” he confirmed. “‘Sir Kneighf’ is an anagram for Fisher King.”

“The Fisher King is at the end of all Grail quests,” Gideon agreed.

They rushed to the bullpen, all crowding around a nearby phone.

“Line two trapped and traced,” Hotch demanded of one of the nearby agents and Gideon put it on speaker.

“Gideon.”

“What I had to do was not my fault,” the unsub replied, his harsh voice unmistakable.

“Excuse me?”

“It was distasteful and barbaric.”

“Who is this?”

“No one else had to be hurt.”

“Call yourself ‘The Fisher King’?” He was trying to throw the unsub off his rhythm. Gideon had been training her to speak to hostile people and profile what responses to give them, so she followed along his game.

This guy had clearly planned what he wanted to say and expected them to shut up and listen. If Gideon made him interrupt the strict script in his mind, he might slip up and give information he didn’t want to or forget his point.

“I told you there were rules.”

“I’m actually more interested in exactly how you got all those burns.” Different tactic. Make the unsub think we’re closer to catching him than he thinks.

“Remember this next time you decide to step outside my instructions,” he warned. “Agent Greenaway did not have to die like that.”

The phone buzzed as he hung up the call.

~ ~ ~

After many attempts at calling Elle, Hotch got ahold of Agent Anderson, who was in charge of taking her home. Anderson explained that Elle had been shot and the ambulance was on its way to a nearby hospital. And then, he and Gideon were off, leaving Lydia, Spencer, and Garcia to work on piecing together this mystery.

“Mrs. Valez, are you there?” Reid asked, putting the librarian who’d just called them back on speaker phone.

“Yes, Dr. Reid. I am. I have a first edition of The Collector, published in Great Britain in 1963.”

“Wonderful.” As they spoke Garcia cleared off room on the whiteboard to copy down the code. “Mrs. Valez, I’m going to read you a set of three numbers. The first is going to be a page number, the second a line number on that page, and the third, a word number in that line. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“All right, the first is page 222.”

“Page 222, got it.”

“Line 23.”

“Line 23. Got it.”

“What is the 16th work on that line, Ms. Valez?”

“The.”

“The,” he repeated. “Great.”

Garcia wrote it up on the board and Lydia suddenly very much regretted not going along with Gideon and Hotch. But just in time to save the day, her phone started going off with a call from the unit chief.

She dismissed herself quickly and stepped outside to answer.

“How’s Elle?” she asked, figuring greetings could be dismissed for the time being.

“She’s in surgery. Ambers, I need you to go to her house and look for any evidence you can find. And if you can, I need you to tell me what exactly happened when she got home. Anderson will meet you there.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get back to you when I have something.”

She quietly signalled to Reid that she was leaving before grabbing her FBI windbreaker and latex gloves and running off to the elevator. She hadn’t taken a company SUV since her first case (after which she learned she wasn’t supposed to be driving them on her own because she wasn’t supposed to be unsupervised while working), but she figured that, if caught, she would be forgiven, given the circumstances.

The street was littered with cop cars by the time she got there and it took a minute for them to recognize the car and jacket she was wearing and let her through. Once she had parked, she ran across the front lawn and inside, looking for Anderson. Right now, the only reason she hadn’t been thrown off the scene was her jacket and until Anderson arrived with his badge and the orders to clear the place, she was at the local PD’s mercy.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man called to her as she walked into the living room. She shut her eyes tightly. Damn it.

“Hi. My name’s Lydia-”

“Ambers,” Anderson greeted her, stepping past the cops to speak to her. “CSU’s on the way, but Hotch wanted you to survey the scene before they processed it.” He turned back to the officer she was just speaking to. “Hello again, Detective Markes. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask your team to leave, as you’re currently on a crime scene under federal jurisdiction.”

As he went on to argue with the detective, Lydia flipped around to make her initial determinations. Elle had lost a lot of blood. Lydia could assume she’d been shot in the abdomen, because it was the only area of the body where she could survive long enough to get to the hospital and into surgery while she was losing blood at that rate. Elle had a comforted seat built into an indent in the wall where the blood trail started.

The coffee table was awkwardly placed in the center of the room, so the paramedics probably moved it to get to her. And from the marks on the carpet, it looks like they had to drag her body onto its back in order to perform CPR. Then, there was the looming note on her wall in blood: RULES.

“Can I do anything to help?” Anderson asked. When Lydia looked up at him, it was clear to her that he’d been crying. His eyes were rimmed with red and his voice was shaky.

“Did the police tell you what happened?”

He nodded, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “There is evidence of forced entry on the back door. The unsub probably broke in and waited for her to get home before he shot her. She dialed 911 herself before she passed out. And her badge and gun are nowhere to be found.”

“She dialed 911 before she passed out?!” Lydia exclaimed. “Unless the unsub let her… but no, he thought she was dead. He was in the room with her and wrote in her-” Lydia took in a deep breath and started to put her gloves on. “Try something with me, Anderson.”

~ ~ ~

“What did you find?”

“CSU lifted a partial print from the unsub’s message,” Lydia told Hotch, driving back to Quantico.

“What message?”

“Rules,” she responded. “This is about the press conference.”

He sighed. “Did they get anything from the print?”

“They aren’t sure if it will be enough, but they’re running it through their systems now.”

“Good. And what did you find?”

Lydia’s breath hitched. “Me?”

“I asked you if you could figure out what happened. How did the unsub get the upper hand and shoot Elle?”

Lydia glanced at her phone, which was on speaker beside her, as if Hotch would be there looking sternly back.

“Here’s my theory,” she began. “We know he broke in through the back door and waited in the house. If he was in the dining room, he would have been able to hear her set her stuff down and lie on the couch. Now with her eyes closed, he’s able to walk into the room and aim a gun at her before she can react. At some point, Elle makes a move off the couch and he shoots her. The blood pattern indicates she was falling when she got hit. That makes me think her gun was on the table across from her. But anyway, she’s shot and is lying on her side, between the seat and the table. Elle has got to have an insanely high pain tolerance, because she was still conscious when he wrote on the walls in her blood. But somehow, she had him convinced she had died when he left. Then, she calls 911 and passes out.”

“Good work, Lydia. When all this is over, we need to talk.”

Her phone beeped to indicate he had hung up and it took everything in her not to pull over and call him back immediately.

A talk? What the hell did that mean?

~ ~ ~

When Lydia finally made her way back to the bullpen, she was exhausted. So, it was a bit of a relief to see Spencer there at his desk, simply toying with a pencil between his fingers.

“Did you go to Elle’s house?” he asked, softly, as she took off her jacket and placed it on her desk.

“Yeah… It’s a crime scene.”

He nodded, understanding what she meant. It was bloody.

“How did the book code go? Did it work?” she inquired.

“‘The path to the end began at his start to find her first calm her long broken heart’,” he recited. “‘She sits in a window with secrets from her knight. Is it adventure that keeps him out of her sight?’”

“Any clue what it means?”

Reid opened his mouth to explain, but Garcia approached and started talking to him. “She’s okay,” she said, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Your mom. Agents picked her up.”

“Your mom?” Lydia startled. “What happened?”

The panic in Garcia’s eyes was evident. “Lydia! Sorry, I didn’t even realize you were back yet.” Her eyes darted between the two of them. “I’ll… I’m gonna go now.”

“No, no, no!” she assured her. “It’s fine. If this is private, I can leave.”

“It’s not private.” Spencer looked slightly amused by the anxiety both girls felt, but it didn’t last long. “It’s… pertinent to the case.”

“Is everything okay?” Lydia asked him, standing up next to Garcia at his desk, so that the conversation didn’t drift around the room.

“She’s flying here right now,” Garcia explained, and Reid nodded, looking down at an evidence bag.

It was the poem they’d found in the music box. The valentine’s one that he’d said his mom read him.

“I forgot she used to always read me this poem.” He sighed. “It’s funny, huh?”

“Funny?” Garcia asked.

“I should have realized this sooner,” he admitted. “I mean, nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collects butterflies except for me. People tell me their secrets all the time. I think it’s ‘cause they know I don’t have anyone to betray them to… except my mother. I- I tell her pretty much everything.”

“I don’t think anyone would mind,” she grinned.

“Do you know that I write her a letter everyday?” he continued.

Garcia’s eyes watered slightly, but her smile didn’t let up. “That’s nice.”

“It depends on why I write her.” His eyebrow furrowed. His demeanor had changed considerably and Lydia started to piece together what she had missed.

This unsub had gotten all this info on them from his mom. Maybe he’d been stealing her letters or just talking to her, but he knew her and that’s why Reid was bringing her to Quantico.

“What do you mean?” Garcia asked.

“I write her letters so I won’t feel so guilty about not visiting her.”

The girls exchanged a look. Reid had just been in Las Vegas. He said he was going home. So, why was he claiming he didn’t visit her?

“Did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?” he asked, randomly.

At least, she thought it was random. Until Garcia gasped under her breath. She excused herself quickly, leaving Lydia with the fidgeting doctor.

“Spencer, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she spoke up. She kept her voice low and her town concerned, undemanding.

He was clearly on edge. He wouldn’t look up at her, eyes focused on the poem in his hands. “‘The path to the end begins at his start’... I’m the ‘him’. And my start is my mom. So, she’s the key to lead us to the Grail. ‘She sits in a window with secrets from her knight’. The doctors tell me my mother loves to sit by the window and read my letters.” He dropped the bag suddenly and clasped his hands together. “Lydia, my mom is a paranoid schizophrenic who lives in a mental hospital.”

His knuckles started turning white and the muscles in his arms shifted under pressure. He was getting tense. Lydia knew exactly what he was doing. Normally, when she felt her anger manifest itself physically, she would excuse herself to blow off steam, but something told her Reid wasn’t about to find an empty hallway and start punching the walls.

But even with that knowledge, she never would have consciously done what she did to calm him. Her impulses took over and one of her hands reached out and settled itself on top of his fists. She bent down slightly, not forcing herself into his line of sight, but making it easier for him to turn to her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That must be hard on you… does the rest of the team know?”

He shook his head, turning one of his palms over to hold onto her fingers. Lydia’s heart sped up, but she swallowed down her feelings. He was looking for comfort, not a relationship. Besides, they weren’t even holding hands, really. He was just grazing his thumbs over her knuckles.

“Lydia,” he began, finally meeting her gaze. “Earlier you left because Hotch brought up your mom…”

Here it comes. She braced herself for the inevitable question.

“...and when you came back, you had bruised knuckles.”

She almost choked on her own saliva. He wasn’t going to ask about her mom? And how had he even noticed that?

Awkwardly, she slipped her fingers out of his grasp. “I wasn’t hitting anything alive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she informed him, suddenly closing off again. “I just had to let off some steam.”

“Lydia, I wasn’t insinuating anything-”

“It’s fine, Spencer,” she replied, far too quickly. “If you need any help with anything before your mom gets here, let me know. And if I get any updates from Hotch or Gideon, I’ll tell you.”

He spun his chair around in an attempt to stop her, but she was already leaving, trying to look dignified as she walked into the conference room. She didn’t want to make him feel guilty when he was already dreading his mom’s arrival, but she couldn’t have that conversation when there was work to do.

It wasn’t until she was staring at the evidence boards that she realized, there really wasn’t any work to do.

What was she running from?

~ ~ ~

After hours of pacing and repeating the clues the unsub had given them outloud, Lydia had ended up back at her desk, absolutely drained. She pushed everything aside and lay her head down. She’d just been… off today.

She felt so guilty about abandoning Spencer. He needed more help than she did. His mother was involved in a murder case and probably wasn’t stable enough to look out for herself. And Lydia was just wallowing in her past.

She had no right to do that to him.

So, what was it? As far as she knew, Spencer didn’t even know her mom was dead. He had no idea what the mention of her mother could do to her. He wasn’t pressuring her to tell him about it. And even more so, she’d never struggled to tell anyone her mother was dead before. Her first day in Quantico, she told Gideon and Garcia.

Lydia rarely talked about the cause of her mom’s death. If that’s what the team needed to know, then she could forgive herself for being on edge, but they didn’t. No one had asked her to say out loud how her mother had died. And if they did need to know, Hotch, Gideon, or Garcia could probably tell them. Her mother’s death was definitely in Garcia’s files.

What is it? She asked herself. What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just-?

“Lydia!” Garcia cried. Her head shot up to watch the blonde woman running by, making a beeline for the conference room.

She ran after her, just catching up as she opened the door and grabbed the attention of Spencer and an older woman with a pixie cut.

“Reid, I got to the end of the IP string,” Garcia started, barely even noticing the other presence in the room. “Sir Kneighf? The Fisher King? His name is Randal Garner. He’s Rebecca Bryant’s biological father.”

~ ~ ~

Once the air in the room had settled, Spencer introduced the other woman as his mother, Diana Reid, before quickly distracting them with work. Lydia sensed that he didn’t want his mother to be a part of the conversation.

Lydia stepped aside to call Hotch, listening to their conversation as she explained to him what they’d found.

“Our file says that Rebecca’s father’s name is Joseph Bryant,” Spencer argued. “Who’s Randal Garner?”

“Rebecca’s mother and brothers died in a fire when she was four and her father was so badly burned that he couldn’t take care of her, so he gave up parental rights and she was adopted by the Bryants,” Garcia informed them.

“Okay,” Hotch responded over the phone, pulling her back to the conversation she was having. “I’ll tell Gideon and be there soon. Find out everything you can on this guy.”

“Doing that as we speak,” she replied, putting her phone back into her pocket.

“I can’t believe she’s real,” Diana mumbled.

The three of them trained their eyes on her.

“What do you mean?” Garcia asked.

“Whenever he talked about Rebecca, he never said she was his daughter.” She said all this directly to her son, her stance nervous, almost defensive. “He said all his children died in the fire. He spoke of a Rebecca, more in the abstract. I really thought she was a metaphor and not an actual human being. An ideal.”

“A grail,” Reid said, confirming her thoughts. This man honestly didn’t see her as his daughter anymore. His daughter had died. And this girl was a prize to be won. “He thinks he’s the Fisher King.”

“Who does?” Morgan asked, entering with JJ.

“Randal Garner, our unsub,” Spencer responded.

“He believes you’re all modern-day knights of the round table,” Diana explained, gesturing around the room.

Derek raised a hand and they could see his question about who this woman was coming a mile away.

“Uh, Derek Morgan, this is my mother, Diana Reid.” Spencer ran around the table to step between his colleague and his mom.

“This is your mother?” He pointed at the woman almost accusingly, but seeing Spencer’s tight smile, pulled back and said, “Ma’am it’s a… it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Finally, the last of their group stormed in, Hotch’s footsteps audible from across the bullpen. “So, where are we on finding this son of a bitch?” he demanded.

“Gideon?” Lydia inquired.

“Hospital.”

Everyone sat down around the table in time with one another.

“I rechecked all the clues,” Spencer began. “There’s nothing that points to an address.”

“The adoption records for Rebecca listed an address of the fire, so I made a call to Nevada, and it’s vacant. No one ever rebuilt,” JJ continued.

“Nevada?” Hotch scoffed. “So we don’t even know what state he’s in?”

“I’ll search the tax records,” Garcia offered. “See if he owns any property.”

“Excuse me,” Diana said, catching the attention of the team. She was leaning forward in her seat in the corner of the room.

“Mom, do you want to wait out-” Spencer started, trying to usher her out of the room, but She was already making a move towards Hotch.

“Just before the agents got me from the hospital,” she fumbled for something in her purse, “a man delivered this to me. It’s a photo of a house with an address on the back.”

She held it up for them to see the scrawl on the back of the card: 1024 Winston Dr., Shiloh, VA. 22485.

“Shiloh, Virginia?” Morgan muttered. “That’s only ten miles from here.”

She flipped over the photo. The house looked more like a castle, with multiple stories and barred windows. It was made with gray bricks and black roof tiles with a circular extension that looked like a tower.

The team filed out quickly, with the exception of Spencer, who was telling his mom to stay put until he got back.

Garcia ran back to her office and Lydia sat at her desk, still unable to go on raids with them.

Almost over, she told herself. This whole thing is almost over.

~ ~ ~

“We’re sending Rebecca to the hospital now and then we’ll be back,” Hotch informed her. “Any news from Gideon?”

“Elle just got out of surgery. Doctors say she’s gonna be fine.” It was already the next morning and Lydia couldn’t wait to go back to her apartment and sleep for the rest of the day. “Randal Garner?”

“Dead,” he responded and Lydia didn’t bother to ask how or why. “Why don’t you start clearing off those evidence boards?”

“Yes, sir.” She put her phone down and walked up to the round table room.

When she got inside, she startled to see someone else there. Spencer’s mom sat on the sofa underneath the window and was writing something in one of the journals she brought with her. She hadn’t seemed to notice Lydia walk in.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Reid,” Lydia started, politely, walking over to the evidence boards. “I forgot you were still here.”

After a second of silence, Lydia got to work, making piles of evidence, pictures, and all the pins they had used. She didn’t take the woman’s silence personally, knowing that schizophrenia could cause dissociation. She figured she’d leave her to her journaling for now.

As she was finishing up, however, the woman looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. “Is it time for lunch yet?” she inquired.

“What?” Lydia asked softly.

“I’m lecturing everyone on Tristan and Iseult,” she explained, scanning her journal suddenly like an analysis paper. “They’re all gathering in my room after lunch.”

Lydia was intrigued. Clearly, Diana was not in touch with reality and Lydia wasn’t sure how best to deal with it, but her curiosity won over her common sense.

She wanted to know who Tristan and Iseult were.

“I’m here to attend the lecture, ma’am.” She smiled and sat down on the floor, like a kindergartener.

“Let’s get started, then.” She went on to talk about the basis of the myth: Tristan was sent to bring Iseult back to his uncle, King Mark of Cornwell, with whom she was to marry. On their journey however, they consumed a love potion (whether or not they were aware had varied throughout history) and fell for one another. They were forced to have an affair behind Mark’s back, despite them both holding a lot of respect for the king, because the effects of the potion were too strong for them to ignore. When the king caught them, he sentenced them both to death, but Tristan escaped and saved Iseult and they ran off together. When King Mark finally found them again, Tristan agreed to give Iseult back to the king and flee Cornwell so long as neither of them would be harmed. And eventually, he found another young woman named Iseult and married her instead.

Diana was just beginning to explain how this compared the Arthurian legend and the love triangle between King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and Guinevere, when Spencer walked in.

“Mom, we found her. Rebecca’s safe.” The two women turned their heads to the newcomer and Spencer flushed, seeing Lydia sitting quietly on the floor across from his mother. “Lydia! I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Young man, we are in the middle of a lecture,” she reprimanded. “May I ask why you’ve so rudely interrupted us?”

Lydia covered her mouth to suppress a laugh and Spencer looked shocked by his mother’s scolding. “What?”

“I am giving a lecture on Tristan and Iseult,” she repeated, impatiently. “Are you here to attend or do you want to just keep standing there and gawking?”

He seemed to understand his mother’s headspace, but his confusion returned when he remembered Lydia. She gestured for him to sit with her, smugly, and turned back to Diana. “You can continue Mrs. Reid, he was just late.”

“Has he read any of the material?” she asked, suspiciously.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at Spencer, teasing him despite the fact that she definitely had not read whatever it was that Diana would have previously assigned.

His face was gentle, almost unsure, and slowly he sat down besides Lydia. “I’ve had them read to me.”

Lydia knew he was talking about his mother. He’d grown up listening to her read valentine’s poems and old mythology. It was honestly really touching and she wondered if she should leave them to have a moment together but couldn’t bring herself to get up.

“Wonderful,” Diana sighed. “That’s the best way, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am. By far.”

They sat there for a few more minutes, listening to her thoughts and analysis of different versions of the story. Lydia would glance over at him at times, checking to see if he was still smiling, which he always was. Sometimes he’d catch her in the act and they’d share a look of amusement before turning their focus back to their temporary teacher.

Unfortunately, it had to come to a sudden end when Hotch walked in.

“Ambers.” His tone was serious. “I was worried you’d left. I need to speak with you.”

Lydia could see Diana’s frustration at yet another interruption, so she quickly stood up.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mrs. Reid,” she apologized, shuffling out behind her boss.

He nodded for her to follow him to his office. Was this about what he said earlier? They needed to have a talk?

She wondered if it was possibly the fact she took out an SUV again despite being informed not to after the last time. Or it could be about her harsh comments that morning towards Gideon and around Haley. Or even worse, about her mom and how she stormed away.

She sat across from him, waiting for his exasperated voice to come through, but it didn’t.

“Lydia, I think we need to have a discussion about your future,” he started, unexpectedly. “I created an internship into the team for you because we’ve never had the need for a forensics expert before, but for these past several months, you’ve been an incredible help. You’re knowledgeable in crime scene analysis, lab work, and, as you proved today, profiling. So, I’ve brought you here to tell you that I’ve discussed with Chief Strauss the possibility of giving you a full-time job in the BAU and she has agreed to speak with you and myself about creating you a position as a government contractor. You can’t apply to be an agent until you’re 23, but I want to be able to lift the restrictions on you and have your help on the cases I see as necessary. If Strauss likes you, you’ll be allowed to make calls for yourself, carry a badge, take the gun qualifications tests, and work without agent supervision, which if she asks, you haven’t been doing already. Would you be interested in such a position?”

She blinked, completely floored by the offer. “Agent Hotchner, I… wait, ‘proved today’?”

It was not what she wanted to say in the moment, but it had thrown her off slightly.

“Today, you walked onto a crime scene and told me an hour later exactly what had happened. You could identify when and from where the unsub entered the room, how Elle was positioned when she got shot, and what happened between then and her call to 911. Yes, I asked you to go there as a scientist and to look for evidence, but when I asked what you thought had happened, you became a profiler and you’re clearly fit to join the team. Again, you becoming a profiler is something we can discuss but not act on for another year, so hopefully contracted work is okay with you.”

“Okay with me?” she laughed. “That sounds amazing. So, just like I’ve been doing in the past, I’ll only be called in when you want me on a case and not for any office work?”

He nodded. “This is dependent on Strauss’s approval, but yes, that’s what we discussed.”

Lydia grinned. “So, how does one get Strauss’s approval?”

~ ~ ~

Lydia didn’t get back to her apartment until around 6 AM and promptly slept for most of the day. She was startled awake by her ringtone in the early afternoon and prepared herself for Hotch to ask her to come back in, but it wasn’t him. Interestingly enough, it was Spencer whose name popped up on her screen.

“Hello?” she answered, sitting back against her headboard.

“Hey, Lydia. Sorry, I’m sure you’re still exhausted after everything. I would have waited a few days to call you, but if I don’t do this now, I’m not sure I ever will.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Is everything alright, Spencer? Did you make it to Las Vegas okay?”

By the time she’d finished talking with Hotch, Spencer had left with his mom and she’d heard that he was planning to fly with her back to the sanitarium, because she had a fear of planes. After everything, she expected him to stay with his mother for a few days, so she hadn’t thought she’d be hearing from him anytime soon.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be back in DC tomorrow. But I have something to admit to you. I didn’t realize this earlier, but I know why Randal Garner sent you what he did.”

Lydia’s breath hitched. “What do you mean? Have you… did Garcia tell you?”

How did he know? Maybe he’d just guessed with the whole scene she made about the bupropion. Garcia had told her that she wouldn’t spill any of her secrets. But would Hotch or Gideon tell him what happened to her mom?

“What? Garcia didn’t tell me anything. I think you should wait for me to explain, so that you don’t accidentally tell me something you don’t want me to know.” His tone was joking, but there was a wavering nervousness that she could hear over the line. “Lydia, when you worked that poisoning case… on the jet back the whole rest of the team was asleep and you had a conversation with Hotch. You said that seeing an orange prescription bottle made you angry because it reminded you of your mother… I overheard that.”

She waited a minute for him to go on. She thought for certain he was going to say he’d figured her whole past out. He was going to tell her that he’d profiled her fidgets and glances and found out every last detail of her mom’s death, but he didn’t. That was all.

“That’s okay, Spencer,” she reassured him. “It wasn’t… I’m not keeping secrets from the team, I just don’t really like to talk about it.”

She faintly heard him huff, frustratedly. “No, I mean, the unsub got all this information on us from my mom. From all the stuff I’d tell her about my team… I told her about you,” he admitted. “I told her about how I’d overheard that conversation and I’m so sorry that you had to go through all this because of me.”

Lydia’s fingers ghosted lightly over her face as she processed this and shut her eyes tightly. It didn’t bother her as much as she’d thought it would, in fact, she didn’t seem to mind at all. The only thing on her mind when he said that was her stupid crush and the fact that he’d been writing to his mom about her.

She shook it aside. He talked about the whole team. It wasn’t a big thing. But… the unsub had, in his fantasy, assigned them two characters who were in love…

“I really appreciate the thought Spencer, but this isn’t your fault. I never said anything to Hotch about the bupropion, so you couldn’t have known about that. The unsub probably just did some research on me or looked through my files. Even if he chose the bottle because of your letters, he had everything else to torment me. Please don’t put this on yourself or your mom.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t hate me?”

“I can change my mind if you’d prefer,” she laughed.

He joined her for a moment, but fell silent far too fast. Lydia suddenly racked her brain for whatever she’d done to cause him to freeze, but hadn’t come up with anything before he spoke up again.

“Hey, Lydia? When I get back to DC, do you, uh… want to get something to eat?”

Lydia’s heart stopped. She wasn’t a profiler and definitely not an expert on asking people out, but she wasn’t about to let this crush rot in her brain. These past few days were torture enough. “You mean, like a date?” she prompted.

Bad move on her part. He flipped suddenly trying to deny it and she had to interrupt him before he hung up on her in mortification. He was so flustered she wasn’t even sure he was speaking English.

“Spencer. Spencer!”

He tried to mumble a quick apology, but she wasn’t about to let him close off just like that.

“Spencer, I’m not going to get food with you unless it’s a date. I don’t play mind games like that.”

“You wha- So, you’d like to- I’m sorry, it’s just… Mind games?” he finally spit out.

He was a funny one. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen so quickly for some dork. When she was a kid and all the other girls would ask her ‘What do you want your future boyfriend to be like?’ she never recalled saying, ‘A real mess. Just a true goof.’

“Yes, Spencer,” she responded. “Mind games. Getting food together could easily be misinterpreted as a date and I want to go on a date with you. But if we’re going to do that, we need to both be on the same page about it. If we go get something to eat, will it be a date or are you just suggesting it to be nice?”

“I would like that. I mean, yeah… it’d be a date. If you want! I don’t wanna pressure you or- are you sure that a date is-”

“I’m still fairly new to the Virginia-DC area,” Lydia interrupted, knowing that if he wasn’t able to form a complete sentence, he’d just keep starting new ones. “Is there anywhere in particular you want to go?”

“Um… well, what do you like?”

A grin graced her face, glad to hear him finally calming down. “I’m sure whatever you like I’ll enjoy as well.”

This was it. She’d scored herself a date with the bumbling boy genius.

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