#wait but the dude raised his finger meaning it's one of their own

[mecommentating]

Me a 21 year old adult started watching teen wolf for the lols this week

I have exactly two thoughts

Derek Hale is in fact Edward Cullen. No I will not elaborate

Stiles is the only reason I’m still here and he needs more screen time 

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[pepsiboyy]

JUST US TWO.

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader summary: the things that run through christopher's mind when taking you out to prom, and he finally decides to tell you he loves you for the first time. warnings: fluff !!, established relationship a/n: i NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING i hope u guys love this!! love this guy fr ):

chris's mind never stopped racing from the moment his eyes had opened in the morning.

standing in front of the mirror to adjust his tie for thirty minutes before stomping to his mom to help him out, his face pink with anticipation at the thought of seeing you today.

when matt pulled up front of your house to pick you up and chris insisted to go to the door and greet you - his brothers had no idea that he would be invited inside.

the way chris nervously tapped his leg with his fingers as he waited for you to emerge from your bedroom, sipping at the water that your parents had offered him.

and the look on his face when his eyes met yours. or you, rather.

they ran across your hair, your shoulders, your waist, your face... every part of you.

he was so in awe and his entire face lit up when you called him out for it. "you done starin'?"

"i was not staring."

the way your fingers interlocked with his as you both walked into the building, loud music heard from outside.

your hand fit so perfectly in his, he thought.

"can we get a drink?" your voice tore him from his thoughts and he smiled at you with that look you knew all too well.

"of course. let's get you whatever you want."

chris would sit with his brothers for a little bit while you ran off with your friends and danced with them, but his eyes never left you.

"dude, are you even listening?" nick smacked chris on the back of his head, resulting in chris swinging around and raising his hand threateningly.

"you really like her, don't you?" matt spoke up.

chris let out a deep sigh of defeat, slumping slightly in his seat. "i think i love her."

nick and matt both exchanged glances before they both shrugged. "we know," they said in unison, making chris's ears redden.

"what do you mean you know, there's no possible way you know. i mean seriously, i don't make it that obvious-"

your hand rested on chris's shoulder to lean over past him and grab your drink. you didn't even know how nervous you made him.

"you guys don't look like you're having fun!" you shouted over the music.

the boys would shrug and defend themselves, but chris's eyes never left yours. the small smile he had on his face never left, even when you grabbed his hands and pulled him onto the dancefloor with you.

the way chris's hands would snake around your waist when the music died down, your own arms raising to gently wrap around his neck and shoulders. his blue eyes remain locked onto your own, that smile never leaving his face.

"why are you cheesing?" you questioned with a smile, making chris chuckle softly and shake his head.

"you look beautiful tonight," he stated softly.

you felt your face heat up. "well- you look... not too bad yourself."

"ouch." chris smiled as he moved a hand to gently cup your cheek, where you subconsciously leaned your cheek against.

"no but, really.. you look great." your cheeks heated up, and chris couldn't to do anything other than smile lovingly at you.

your eyes remained locked, both smiling brightly at one another.

the music was soft, yet loud, and the voices of the many people in the room made it hard to process what exactly was going on.

but nothing mattered to either of you.

all that you could hear was each other down to the breath, and the music seemed to fade out, of feel muffled between each of your words.

"you know something," chris whispers softly, his forehead gently pressing against yours. "in a room full of people, it feels like it's just us two."

you smiled, closing your eyes softly as you swayed your body beside chris. "i agree."

chris took a deep breath, his eyes closed as well, before he gently pulled you impossibly closer to him.

"i love you."

your eyes snapped open as you smiled widely. "r- really?"

chris's face was the deepest shade of red to exist, but he kept it up. "i love everything about you. your name, your smile, your charm, even down to your terrible... terrible jokes."

you smacked him on the arm before chuckling and pulling chris into a tight hug, which he reciprocated just as tightly.

"i love you too, dummy."

chris smiled warmly at this and pulled away from the hug to gently take your chin between his thumb and index finger. he pulled you towards him and into a soft kiss, his eyes closed as his curly bangs tickled the bridge of your nose.

your arms wrapped back around his shoulders and neck, and you two enjoyed the last few moments of the song, embraced within one another.

⚜ masterlist ⚜

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker @lovesturni0l0s

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Taking what’s not yours (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader (slight Harry Osborn x reader) ex-Childhood best friend turned Fwb AU]) part 2

Hiiiiiii, this took longer then it should and it was gonna be waaay longer but I’ve decided to just make it 3 parts cuz I’m waaaaaay too impatient Lmaoo. Thank you once again to @chickenshit03 for helping me look over this 🫶🏼. Technically it is a miguel x reader, Harry x reader but, shhh it’s okay lol. Not proofread, enjoy!

Cursing, hurt/comfort/hurt (???), underage usage of weed (I DO NOT CONDONE THIS!!!), usage of alcohol, no smut but nsfw stuff is implied, Miguel going thru it lol

Word count: 3.1k

Part 1

Masterlist

—

“Have you congratulated her yet?”

Gabriel’s voice pulled his older brother’s attention away from the soccer game that was happening on his tv, looking over to find his brother engrossed in his phone rather than the game. He raised a brow up, waiting for him to continue, letting out an exasperated sigh when he didn’t.

“Who?” Miguel asked, bringing his beer bottle up to take a swig, turning back towards the tv so he didn’t get to catch his younger brother’s almost confused reaction.

“What do you mean who? (Y/N), Cabrón.” Gabriel’s tone was one of almost scolding, as if he was talking about someone who was family. As far as he was concerned, you were still considered as such. But when Miguel quirked up a confused brow it was becoming a bit clearer that you and his older brother weren’t as close as you once were. (Dumbass)

“(Y/N)? I don’t talk to her anymore, why would I congratulate her?” He sounded uninterested, bothered even, as if bringing you up was an inconvenience to himself. Still Gabriel pressed on.

“You really don’t know?”

“Does it look like I know?” Miguel shot back sarcastically, bringing his bottle back up to take another swig.

“She’s getting married.”

Miguel’s fist flew to his chest, hitting at it frantically as he brought down his half empty bottle as he attempted to clear his windpipe, eyes widen in shock, both from the news and the sudden feeling of the liquid going down the wrong pipe.

“She’s-shes what?” He was finally about to choke out between fading coughs, his eyes watering slightly as he recovers from the fit. Now it was his younger brother who raised a confused brow before it came back down and his face scrunched together in realization.

“No manches güey… You really didn’t know? I thought you two were best friends.” (Slang that basically means “You’re fucking with me dude.”)

“Key word: were.” Miguel grumbled through

grinding teeth, his tensing shoulders and blunt tone was enough of an indicator for Gabriel to drop the subject. Using the now empty bottle in Miguel’s hand as an excuse to step out of the room to grab another one from his kitchen.

Only when Miguel was alone, he sighs and takes his phone out from his jeans pocket and opens instagram, waiting impatiently as the app loads.

—

“I don’t know, I think I liked the other venue better. What do you think honey?”

Despite your feet standing in the second venue of the day, you couldn’t seem to get yourself to focus on the space in front of you. Fingers idly fidget with Harry’s from their place intertwined with his.

How were you going to tell this to Harry? Why did after so long, Miguel had the nerve to try weasel his way back into your life?

No matter how hard you try to blink the words away, it felt like they were burned into your eyelids. Like you had never left the fitting room of the dress store.

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“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?” Harry’s voice pulled you back out from your own thoughts. Suddenly becoming too aware of your own anxious state, as he gave your hand a quick reassuring squeeze. Turning to the venue owner as he asked for a minute alone with his fiancé.

“What’s wrong babe.” He asked as soon as you were both alone, his hand traveling upwards to rest on your forearm, tilting his head slightly as he cooed at you. He always knew how to read you so well. Despite the question coming out more as a statement, it held no malice behind it. You let out a sigh.

“I… I’m not sure how to explain it.” You replied honestly, it’s not like you did anything wrong. You simply received a message from an estranged friend/fling, you haven’t even read the message yet. Still the thought of spilling out the words ‘You remember how I had told you I had a thing with an old childhood before we met? He saw that I’m engaged and now he’s trying to message me.’ didn’t seem to settle in your stomach quite right.

“You know you can tell me anything baby. Is it the wedding? I know the whole thing is stressful, maybe I shouldn’t have booked this tour right after your dress appointment-“ Oh Harry, your sweet sweet Harry. You quickly shook your head, your hand going up to rest on his chest to stop his rambling. He always did it when he was starting worrying about you, you couldn’t help but smile at his habit. You found it endearing.

“No, Harry. It’s not anything wedding related, not exactly-erm, nevermind, don’t worry about it right now.” You reassured him, his rambling dead down in his throat, replaced with the low vibration of a hum, as he brought your hand up to his cheek and pressed a light kiss against your palm. Your lips pulled upwards just a tad bit more at the gesture. “ I’ll tell you when we get back home.”

“Hmm, Promise?” He muttered against your palm, before placing another peck against it.

“I promise.” Your thumb stroked his cheek lightly.

“Good.” He sighed, dropping your hand back down from his face, but not letting go of it just yet. “Now, about the venue.” He changed subjects, raising a brow as he silently asked for your opinion. To which you scrunch your nose before replying.

“Oh I liked the last one way better.”

“Good, I did too.”

—

The alcohol still had a hold on Miguel as he continued through the rest of his nightly routine, trying not to trip over his own feet as he was trying to grab a shirt to sleep in. Only to trip over something else in the corner of his closet.

Cursing loudly as he caught his weight before he could fall face first into the closet wall. His search for a shirt was quickly forgotten as he stumbled back a bit to catch his barings. Anger flaring through his veins as he went to go pick up the box he tripped on, and toss across the room in a fleeting moment of letting his frustrations get the better of him. When he realized he was only making a bigger mess for hungover him to clean up, he groaned and rubbed his hands through his hair.

He was going to just leave it for the morning, let it be a tomorrow problem as he doom scrolled through old photos that should have been long deleted from his phone when he dropped you for Dana. A choice that was proven to be a mistake at the end of the day when she dumped him a few months later. But when he went to step over the mess to lay on his bed, when something caught itself in his peripheral vision. A black lighter, one that was bedazzled with a little star.

That’s weird, I don’t use lighters for anything. Miguel thought as he bent down to his knees to pick it up and examine it, it wasn’t until he turned it upside down to see a certain pair of initials carved into the bottom of it when it hit him.

—

“Hey Mig, guess what I bought off one of my friends from my chem class.” You grinned, pulling him into your room. You were both alone, since your mom was gone for a business trip for the weekend.

Miguel raised a brow looking around your room for anything out of the ordinary, finally shrugging when he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. That’s when your smile widened, letting out a small squeal before pulling three things from your pocket.

Two joints and a black lighter.

“We did say if we tried it, it’d be together.” Your voice came out in a sing-songy tone, your silent way of asking him if he wanted to partake in the forbidden activity. He wasn’t big on the idea of smoking weed, but he did say if you ever wanted to try, he’d be there in case you freaked out.

Fuck it, your only a rebellious teenager once right?

You let another squeal when he grabbed one of the joints, before grabbing the lighter.

—

“I didn’t know I had this…” He muttered, words still slurring slightly as he closed his hand with the lighter still in it. As far as he was concerned, he had given it back before you two had left for college eleven years ago. The-as you liked to call it-“star girl” phase you had during junior year had made it so you put stars on whatever you could, including your lighter. It was your favorite shape at the time, he wonders if it still is.

He can’t remember at the time, because the hazy cloud that covers his brain and the way eleven years came make you forget small things but he had never given the shoebox to you before you had left, like he had meant to. So when he went to turn the box over and more papers and knickknacks fell out, he forgets all about going to bed.

Some of it was a bit more basic than others, a postcard and a small trinket from a vacation you had gone on, a silver spider necklace you had gifted him, some random book you had raved over and let him borrow to read, but he never finished it, movie theater tickets.

Then there were some that were a bit… harder to look at, stuff that he had suppressed deep into his memories.

Handwritten notes you had sent him when you went to summer camp every summer. One for every week for a month, from fourth grade till sophomore year. Rambling about how a guy wouldn’t stop bothering you and how you wish he was there to scare the guy off. Or the time you were doing archery during one afternoon during outside activities and had shot an apple to a tree from midair. Had even dedicated a whole two paragraphs to it.

Photo Booth pics of you both at the county fair, making silly faces at the camera with him arm over your shoulders. He had always hated taking pictures taken of himself, not because he didn’t like the way he looked, just because he didn’t think he needed to. He wasn’t one to look back and reminisce, he’d rather look forward and focus on his future. But you were a sucker for sentimental things, so he did it for you.

A bit ironic now, that the roles were reversed at the moment.

—

“Please Miguel, it takes like two seconds.” You begged, desperately trying to pull the larger teen towards the unoccupied Photo Booth, faint sounds of teens screaming on rides and music playing from the food stands in the background.

Miguel let his head roll back as he left out a grown, letting you pull him despite him easily being able to walk away.

“You have a million photos of us.”

“You’re so negative all the time. One day you're gonna look back and be thankful I forced you to take all these pictures.” You pouted as you pushed him into the booth, sitting down next to him as you put in a dollar in the machine. “I’ll buy you a funnel cake if you don’t look like you’re being held hostage.” You joked.

“Fine.”

—

A wristband to some random music festival you had convinced him to go with you to, not wanting to go alone. He at the time wouldn’t have admitted it, but he had a lot more fun than he led on. He never understood how you could deal with his pessimism all the time, waving it off as if it was nothing, you could see threw it he guessed.

—

“That was…incredible.” You sighed, plopping yourself down on your hotel bed on your side of the room once you two had arrived in the room, not even changing out of your festival outfit yet. Miguel followed you close behind, closing and locking the hotel room door as he shrugged.

“I guess it wasn’t horrible.” He muttered, taking off his dusty shoes. Not missing the way your lips tugged up in a tired smile.

“You had fun.” You stated, already knowing he would deny it. He scoffed.

“Well, I’m not sure about that.” There it was. You let out a small laugh as you sat up on the bed finally.

“Knew it.” You beamed.

—

Miguel felt pathetic at this point. Never had he been one to reminisce, never had he been one to show emotions. Now here he was, clinging to the last bits of you he still had.

The last thing he found was the last thing he could bare himself to look at, the memories that came with the item came flooding in just like the tears that he had suppressed for so long. Well, as long as it was from when his brother dropped the bomb on him.

A red rose boutonnière.

—

Senior prom, it was just around the corner. The dress shopping, riding a limo rental with a group of friends, slow dancing with a guy. You had been dreaming about it since you were a kid and saw it over and over again in movies and shows. You should have been excited about it, but you weren’t, in fact you were dreading it. Why? Because no one had asked you to be their date.

It was a bit of a ridiculous thing to be upset about, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. Not when all of your other female friends got promposalled from their boyfriends or their crushes, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter about it.

The fact that you were there to witness Mj’s (your friend from English) get promposalled by her boyfriend Peter with a big teddy bear during lunchtime only rubbed salt in the wound. You were just glad that the school day was over now so you could go home and take a nap.

You did what you usually did after the last bell, walk to Miguel’s car. You could usually carpool since you lived next door to each other. Expecting him to already be waiting for you, what you didn’t expect though, was to be met with him holding a poster up. The words “be my date to prom?” written on it, with the letters of prom made up from elements. It looked simple, last minute, like he had drawn it during the last ten minutes of his final class. But it had brought you to tears no less.

“You didn’t have to.” The words came out in a mix between a sob and a laugh.

“I know, I wanted to. I couldn’t stand you being upset, I know how much this whole prom thing means to you.” His reply only made you let out another sob, quickly closing the gap between you both as you pulled him into a tight hug.

The time between then and prom was short-lived, almost like a blur as you both arrived at the school’s gymnasium. The rest of your friends had actual dates, so you weren’t surprised when they separated in their respective duos. You and Miguel mostly just messed around, the majority of the night. So when he pulled you towards the dance floor once the slow songs started to play, you couldn’t help but raise a brow.

“You hate dancing.” You stated, heels clicking coming to a stop once you both were in an empty spot. His hands sliding on to your waist as he took a step closer towards you. He let out an exhale through his nose as he smirked.

“I do.” He agrees, his hands sliding to your hands, and placing them on his shoulders before he placed his back in their original spot. “But, slow dancing is a part of the ‘prom experience’ or whatever, so I’ll suck it up for a few songs.”

You guess he had a point, so you just went with it. Staying quiet as you both swayed to the music, you haven’t even noticed that your head was resting on his shoulder until he spoke up again.

“So… everything like how you expect it to be?” He whispered jokingly, glancing down to meet your eyes, somehow despite the dim lighting, they still found a way to glimmer.

“It is.” You hummed with a soft smile,

“Good.”

—

“Harry, baby c’mon stop… Harry!”

“I’m sorry (Y/N), you know I can’t help it… something about wedding planning just does something to me-“

His words were interrupted with another spurt of giggles falling from your lips as you tried to pull away from the playful kisses trailing down your stomach. His hands keeping you in place by your hips. He knew you were ticklish, yet he continued to graze his fingernails down your sides just to watch your reaction.

“I’m so lucky, in a few months I’m going to get to call you my wife. My beautiful lovely wife.” He muttered against your skin. His words made your cheeks flush and your stomach flip, you don’t know another man who could make you feel the way he does.

His lips finally stop as the beginning of your sleeping shorts, his thumbs dipping into them, the fabric scrunching down when he goes to play with the straps of your panties. Half-lidded eyes go to meet yours, silently asking for permission.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to wait until the honeymoon?” You teased as you propped yourself up on your elbows. Trying to sit up on your shared bed as best as you could, but you weren’t able to before Harry went to crawl on top of you. Capturing your lips quickly before dipping his head to nibble at the crook of your neck.

“That’s coming from the girl who couldn’t stop grabbing at me during dinner.” He muttered back, leaving goosebumps to erupt on your skin when you felt him smirk against you, then going to nibble your sensitive spot. Making you let out a whimper before you could stop yourself.

“Because that waitress was trying to flirt with you!” You whined, hands traveling up to hold on to his shoulders as he kitten licked the bites he left behind.

“You act like I didn’t just say that because my father was there. He doesn’t need to know how often I make you scream my name-“

“Oh my gosh Harry, please don’t bring up Norman while we’re about to start fucking.” You laugh as you push him off of you gently, not being able to take the moment seriously anymore. In response he only raised a brow as he smirked again.

“So we were gonna fuck?”

“Jesus.” You laugh again, as you pushed him against the bed, lips crashing against one another as you straddle him.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st

@mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry

@haveclayeveryday

[celandeline]

in your head, on your mind // Jordan Li x Reader, Part 2

the brainrot only increases day by day. i want to be them. i want to fuck them. i cannot decide which one of those options i want to do more. anyways, here's part 2. thanks for all the love and support on part 1!

word count: 1874

previous part // next part

You ended up texting with Jordan for most of the night, smiling and giggling to yourself as your roommates slept across the room, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. It was hard though - with every text you found yourself more and more enthralled with Jordan. Everything about them, their sense of humor, their obvious intelligence, the way that they blended flirting with casual conversation, just made you like them more. And the fact that you couldn’t read their thoughts over text only added to the experience. Made it authentic - what were they thinking about right now? You couldn’t know. It was intoxicating. 

Around three in the morning, when you were finally ready to pass out, you made plans to hit the gym together tomorrow. 

Which is why you loiter in front of the gym now, checking and re-checking your phone to see if they’ve texted you again. It’s 1:57, three minutes before you said you would meet up, though you’ve been waiting for at least five minutes more. Anxious. Excited. Thinking about them already. 

…be perfectly fine, you’ve got this. It’s not even like a real date or anything, you’re just hitting the gym. Casually. Casual. Okay. Oh, fuck okay. Wow. You look really good in workout gear.

You pick up on their thoughts before you see them, just as anxious and excited as your own. Turning, you smile as they come into view, today in their masculine form, dressed in a loose tank top and baggy sweatpants. “Hi Jordan.”

“Hi.” They say, a smile stretching across their lips. “You look nice.”

“You said.” You say. “Or, thought, rather.”

Right. You’re in my head now, shit. Different than text. “Still thought I should say it out loud.” They say with a shrug. 

“I appreciate it.” You say, and you do. It isn’t often that people take to repeating what they’re thinking in speech once they learn you can hear their thoughts. 

For a moment, the air is silent between the two of you and you simply look at each other. They really are pretty - you could fall into those chocolate eyes and never be able to find your way out. And their hair, you so desperately want to run your fingers through it, it looks so silky smooth. 

You smile as Jordan’s thoughts - much the same as your own - run through your head. You’re so fucking pretty its unreal. I can’t believe you said yes to hanging out. I can’t believe we spent all night texting each other - when was the last time I did that? Like highschool probably. I need to pump the breaks dude fuck. Sorry. I’m sorry. 

“You don’t have to apologize-” You start. 

“I know, it’s just- I’m not used to it yet.” They say, pulling open the door to the gym for you. 

You walk inside, hit by the smell of sweat and rubber and the metallic tang of blood all at once. The sounds of working out - machinery clanging, grunting, screams of pain, echo around the place mixing together with the generic pop music playing over the gym speakers. You hover near the entrance, waiting for Jordan to take the lead. 

“I, um, took the liberty of reserving a sparring room for us.” They say, voice raised a little over the din. “We don’t have to though - I mean, that’s just usually what I do to work out.” No pressure if you don’t want to touch me. I didn’t mean it like that - you already know. 

“Sparring’s fine, yeah.” You say. “Thanks for getting a room.”

“‘Course.” Jordan says, starting towards the back of the gym, where the sparring rooms are located. You follow in their wake, passing hordes of your sweaty peers, all focused on bettering themselves. It is easy to tune out the telepathic chatter when you are inclined to focus on Jordan anyway. 

It isn’t a far walk to the sparring rooms, and Jordan pulls open the door to room five, holding it open for you to walk in. Like the rest of the sparring rooms, it’s completely padded - ceiling and all - to minimize the amount of damage students would do to each other. A circle is drawn out on the center of the floor, a boundary to use for a more traditional match. You drop your gym bag near the door, and turn to Jordan. 

“So what rules do you usually go by?” You ask. 

“Hand to hand only, no powers if you can help it but I guess since you can’t really turn yours off don’t worry about that.” They say. “Uh, we can use the circle if you want but usually me and whoever I’m sparring with just go until someone’s pinned.”

“That sounds fine to me.” You say. “And since I can’t not use my powers, I think you should be able to use yours too. Just to be fair.”

Jordan purses their lips. I would throw you through these walls with my energy blasts. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” You say. And then, planting your voice in their head, “I trust you to be gentle with me.”

Jordan’s cheeks tint red. “Okay.” They clear their throat, and set their own gym bag down. “Stretch first?”

You stretch together, working through most of the usual positions and then some that you hadn’t heard of before at Jordan’s prompting. Now, feeling nice and limber, you stand in the center of the room, across from Jordan, your fists raised in front of you, ready to strike. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Jordan raises their own fists, adjusting their stance. For a moment, everything is still. 

You know they’re going to move before they do it. 

Jordan lunges forward, but you’re already darting back, finely tuned into their thoughts, able to counter every move they make before they’ve even finished deciding to do it. When you’d first arrived at GodU, people had underestimated you, thinking your power couldn’t be practically applied in combat situations. How wrong they were. 

Yeah I figured as much. Jordan, unsurprised, changes forms, trying again to land a hit now in their more lithe female body. Still, you’re able to stay one step ahead, dodging the moment they begin to swing, darting back as soon as they lift their foot from the mat to kick at you. You take the opportunity to land a sharp hit on their side, right between two of their ribs, and then another in the center of their stomach. 

Damn, okay Y/N, packing a punch. Jordan groans, but doesn’t stop, instead doing their best to return the hits. You dart away again - keeping yourself one step ahead and an arm’s length away. 

It goes like that for a while - you, carefully in tune with Jordan’s every move, and Jordan, growing more and more frustrated as they fail time and time again to land a punch. It’s fun, listening to their thoughts grow more and more frantic, strategizing and re-strategizing ways to knock you off your guard, and you find yourself biting back a smile, not wanting to infuriate them further. You’re winning without a doubt, until-

Is this what it’s going to be like when we fuck?

Jordan’s thought throws you off your rhythm, and you falter, their fist breezing past your face as you barely move away in time. They grin, and you hear their voice in your head; what? I thought you were used to that sort of thing?

It’s true, you had told them that it happened more often than you liked to admit - and it did, but never in a situation like this. In a fight, most people were focused on well… the fight. Not…

God, your shoulders look so good in that shirt. You should get more shirts like that. I want to sink my teeth into your muscles. 

Jordan throws another punch, and you only narrowly dodge it again, doing your best to ignore the way they’re thinking about you. It’s hard though, when you’re so focused on their thoughts anyway to try and keep ahead of their punches. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

It all comes to a head when Jordan actually lands a hit on you because you were distracted by the image of you and them, pressed against the lockers of the locker room, making out with furious intensity. There was a quality to the thought that made you think it wasn’t the first time Jordan had conjured this image - but it was the sharp change in focus that actually made you falter. 

Jordan lands one hit, and then their hand wraps around your arm. Before you can wiggle free, they shift into their male form, grip tightening. I’m going to throw you to the floor. 

If it had been anyone else, the thought would have sparked fear. But instead, excitement swirls in your stomach. 

As gently as someone can throw someone else to the ground, Jordan flips you. You land on your back against the cushioned floor, the impact radiating through your whole body. Before you can scramble back to your feet, Jordan - still masculine and therefore immovable - pins you down, almost laying on top of you. 

“I win.” They say, lips only inches from yours. I could kiss you right now. Would you let me? You don’t have to. 

You press your lips together, fighting off a smile as you pretend to struggle in their grip. “Fine you win. What kind of prize do you want?”

“Don’t tempt me.” They say, eyes darkening as their pupils widen ever so slightly. Fuck. Do you mean that?

You smile, and wind your thoughts into theirs. You don’t get to fuck me - not yet anyway - but I’ll kiss you if you still want it. 

The second the thought registers, Jordan is pressing their lips to yours, roughly, hungrily, like they’ve been waiting. You know they’ve been waiting - you can feel it in their thoughts, in the way that they run a hand down your side like if they stop touching you you’ll disappear. As soon as you feel them let their guard down, you flip the both of you over, giving yourself a turn to hover over them. 

Their eyes widen as you break the kiss to start leaving little kisses along their jaw, working towards their neck. Oh fuck. You can’t- you said we can’t fuck right now, you cant start kissing me there- fuck. I can’t fight this boner-

They shift under you, reverting back into their female form. You take it in stride, still continuing your path to the sweet spot beneath their ear. You suck hard on the delicate skin once you land, and they groan deep in their throat, pushing their chest up against yours as their eyes roll into their head. You pull back to enjoy their reaction, and when they open their eyes again, you smile. 

“I wouldn’t have been offended by a boner, you didn’t have to switch to hide it.” You say. 

Jordan smiles. “Habit, sorry.” They pause. “Um.” I need to go home and jerk off. Like right now. Sorry. “We should do this again, sometime.”

You roll off of them, smiling as you plop down on the matted floor. “For sure.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: he back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

Bucky sits on the bench, head hanging as his knees splay wide, the thick soles of his boots planted on the metal floor. The jet whirs loudly as it cuts through the air.

Sam lets out another unceremonious belch and covers his mouth as he clutches his stomach. He shakes it off as the other man curls his fingers before slowly unfurling them, watching the deliberate movements as if hypnotised.

"How in the hell do you get air sick?" Bucky snorts.

"The wings are... nicer," Sam shrugs, "whatever, I just had some bad street meat."

"I told you not to go to that place."

"Yeah well, some of us like to enjoy ourselves," Sam retorts. "What's gotten into you anyway? You're crustier than usual."

Bucky grumbles but doesn't say anything. He's impatient for this thing to be over. It wasn't enough to land in Luxembourg and Berlin, now they gotta head over to Prague. This wasn't in the briefing.

"Seriously, dude, I know brooding is your whole thing but you need to lighten up. Shit's getting dark," Sam reprimands.

"I'm not brooding," Bucky sits up, rolling his shoulders.

"Sure," the scoff is thick and dismissive. Sam is quiet as he checks the bulky watch on his wrist; it's really more than that, it's his command center. "Wait, what about that girl?"

"What girl?" Bucky's heart throbs as the tendon in his neck pulses.

"The one you were asking advice about. Is that it? You blew it, didn't you?" Sam snickers, "Buck, dames ain't what they used ta be," the old-timey accent has Bucky's fist closing again.

"Shut up," he snarls, "it's not a girl."

A cluck as Sam sits back and smirks, "sure, dude, I totally believe you."

"Stop."

"At least tell me what you did wrong? You know, girls don't like going to the woods with strange men, I said that before."

"Sam."

"James," Sam taunts.

"Don't," a vibranium finger comes within inches of the grinning lips, "I told you... enough." Bucky sits back and retracts his hand, crossing his arms as he grits his teeth, "I didn't blow it."

"Not yet," he partner and only friend chirps, "we'll see."

Bucky sighs and looks away. His stomach pits as he tries to hide his anxiety. He's barely been able to check in with Sam in his face and all this running around. It's been almost a week and it's killing him to be so far away. What if something happens and he's not there? He'd never forgive himself and neither could she.

"Hey," Sam taps him with his knuckles lightly, "I'm teasing. Really, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," Bucky protests, "I'm tired as fuck. Just wanna get this done with."

Reader

The birds nesting above your front window wake you up. The sun slats in brightly between the curtains as you roll over with effort, setting your hips straight with a grunt. You brace your pelvis as you try to stretch out what can't be stretched out. You whimper and bend your legs, one at a time, and raise your arms above your head. You don't want to get up but it's shopping day and you want to beat the rush.

It takes a while for you to get ready for the day. You don't go very far, just to the shop down the block. Their selection is limited but so is your budget.

You get your purse and strap it across your torso. As you near the door, you falter, a pang nearly sending you to your knees. You grasp the door frame and whine, taking the weight off your left leg. You're starting to think you might need to talk to the doctor about that cane. You didn't want to give in that easily but being stubborn isn't making it any better.

You lean on the wall and pull the door inward, unlocking the outer iron grate and pushing through. As you do, something clatters behind you, drawing a gaspy squeak from your lips. You turn to look down at the object as your keys dangle from your grip. You focus on locking both doors first.

You turn and stare down at the thing... you're not quite sure what it is at first. You strain as you bend to pick it up and rest it against the brick. It's some sort of shopping bag.

The handle extends up as it connects to four wheels. You unfold the metal cage lined with patterned fabric and let it stand on its own. You touch the handle, wrapped with some sort of protective rubber. How did it get there?

As you examine the misplaced cart, you see a small ribbon around the handle, dangling just inside the corner of the basket. You tug it up and find a tag on it. There, written by hand, is your name, and a short message.

'To make things a bit easier.'

You blink. Who would do this? You can only think your neighbours might have donated it but you never really talked to them. The mother was always too busy yelling at her children and her husband never said a word. There's nothing on the back, no sign-off, no name...

You wonder if you should accept it. It feels strange. You already live off of a government stipend, you shouldn't be taking handouts from strangers. Still, it's very helpful.

Your hip aches again, and you shudder. You turn the cart and grasp the handle, testing the stability. You don't know if you can make it back with your usual hot, as meagre as it may be. You're talking yourself into this, but it doesn't take much. Whoever left it, you'll have to thank them somehow.

Bucky

He watches her examine the cart. She's skeptical as she unfolds it and hesitates to do more than that. Is it too much? He thought it was such a good idea when he saw it at the store, and it's not very much at all, is it?

He lets out his breath as she twists the cart around and gives it a small nudge. She rolls it cautiously towards the alley and he puts the phone away. He waits across the street as she emerges from the alley and veers in the opposite direction. He doesn't move right away. She'll be on alert now. Little steps, not all at once.

He follows her, staying on the other side of the street, slinking like a cat as he watches her lean on the cart so that she nearly tips it. She rights herself and continues on, taking the next corner. Her gait is slow and uneven but he's patient. It means he gets to spend more time with her.

She hits the button for the automatic door and enters the small grocer. He waits five minutes before he trails in after her. He takes a basket, trying to blend in as he strolls through the bread section. It's desolate as only staff members scatter through the aisles, stocking shelves in their down time.

He grabs a loaf of rye; he'd wanted grilled cheese the other day but he was all out of bread. And cheese for that matter. He held off shopping so that they could go together.

He finds her by the canned soups. There's a four-for-three special. Given the quality, it's not a very good sale. She shouldn't be eating that acidic garbage. One day, he'll make sure, she doesn't have to. He just needs to wait.

He stays at the far end of the aisle as she picks four flavours. He peeks down at the labels; ham and pea, minestrone, Italian wedding, and classic chicken noodle. Noted.

She carries on but he lingers, fighting himself. He just wants to watch her every move, he wants to be right there beside her, going down a list as they plan their days together. 'Don't worry, doll, I'll cook tonight.'

He shakes off the fantasy and steps out of the aisle, only for something to rattle into him. He catches the basket of the rolling cart and his mouth falls open as he faces her. He didn't expect her to come back this way. Oh god.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she utters squeakily, "I didn't see you--"

"No, it's... okay," he's almost breathless as he pulls his gloved grip from the cart, "I wasn't looking."

He sidesteps her, heart racing, and quickly strides past her. He can hear her own pulse running wild. She doesn't move right away and he worries. The cart hit him hard, had it hurt her?

She rolls on and stops at the endcap, browsing the boxes of instant oats on sale. She searches and looks up, reaching for the cheaper options. A small bag which could last two weeks with a bit of rationing. She slips flat back on her soles and catches herself on the shelf. She can't reach.

He looks down and rubs his neck. He shouldn't but he has too. He crosses to her and reaches for the bag she wants. He takes it and offers it to her. She sputters out a mousy thanks. Her fingers brush his as she accepts it.

"No problem," he mutters and backs away, almost as if scalded.

He feels her looking at him, just for a moment, then she continues on to the discounted stack of tuna cans. His blood is like fire, boiling inside of him as he curses the damned gloves. He wish he could've felt her touch for real.

He has to get out of there. He rushes up to the cashier and puts his basket on the belt. He doesn't even care about it all. He just knows if he stays, he won't be able to keep his cool. He pays without thinking as the clerk packs his things in a paper bag. The crinkle makes him flinch as he picks it up. It's too noisy for him to follow her.

So he won't. He'll wait for her at her place. Just to make sure she gets back safe.

💔

When she comes down the alley, he's there, watching. The cart rattles announcing her approach and he holds his breath until she's in sight. She's limping worse than before, using the metal frame as support.

She struggles with her keys, jingling them loudly as he aims them at the slot on the iron grate. As she pulls it open, she loses her grip and it clangs violently. She's hurting, he can tell.

She tries again, this time getting between the doors to unlock the next. She turns to drag the cart inside. The inner door is left ajar as the iron one falls shut behind her.

There's a lull and he pulls out his phone to see what she's doing. She rolls the cart to the kitchen and shuffles around in a drawer. She pauses to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. Is she crying?

She takes out a small paper pad and a pen. She scratches the nib until ink comes out then writes across it. He's confused.

She finishes and tears away the top page. She turns to hobble through the house and comes back outside. She passes through the iron door and peers around. She grips the ragged brick and bends, placing the folded paper where he'd left the cart.

She retreats inside, the door slamming louder than before. The inside door locks and he sees her on his phone screen collapse against the other side. His chest rents as he longs to burst in and scoop her up.

He can't. She's not ready. He heard it in her heartbeat. Like him, she's been alone so long, that the idea of change is scary. No, he needs to make her see that he can help her. He can take care of her.

He'll wait until he's sure she's not listening. Then he'll go see what she wrote.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Shh! Pt. 2

Summary: The hangovers are very real for Dean and Y/N. Will they notice the artwork on the fridge?

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warnings: None. This second part is pretty much all fluff too.

Word Count: 2,693 (This part was a bit longer than the first. Sorry!)

A/C: Okay, so the first part of Shh! was actually just supposed to be a one shot, fic request. But I got a fair few requests for a sequel about the morning after, and I wanted to know what happened too. So, here it is. Lol! I had a lot of fun writing the two parts to this little story. Hope you have fun reading them. ❤️

It was requested that I tag @arcannaa if I made a second part. So, here ya go, lovely. Let me know if you'd like to be added to one of the tag lists linked below. ❤️

Part 1 is here || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The Next Morning:

Dean's groan was deep and long and ended in one word. “Fuck.”

“Shh…” Y/N held her head in her hands as she sat up. “Why are you so loud?” She asked, and her voice sounded as dry and cracked as the Sahara. 

“No, you're so loud.” Was Dean's witty rejoinder as he sat up beside her.

They both turned their heads to look at each other and groaned again. Y/N looked around the room and her brow creased with confusion.

“Why am I here?”

Dean grunted. “I'm a little too hungover for an existential crisis.”

Y/N pursed her lips, side eyeing him. “No, idiot. I mean why am I here in your bed? Why aren't I in my own bed?”

Dean rubbed his hand down his face. “Well, your bed is about 2 hours away, which probably explains the sleepover.”

Y/N hummed her agreement and pointed at him, conceding the point. “Yeah, I guess neither of us was in the best shape to drive.” She paused and then scowled. “We didn't, right? I mean, we didn’t drive home.”

She squinted at Dean who was shaking his head. “Nooo…” His tone said that was impossible, but then he tilted his head. “Right? There’s no way we would have been that stupid.”

Y/N shook her head and then stopped when the room started spinning. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “No, we must have taken a cab. We must have.”

It was silent while both of them tried desperately to remember something from the night before.

Dean sat up straight. “Rainbow Connection!” He said suddenly.

Y/N turned to look at him again and one eye brow was raised. “Are you stroking out?”

Dean waved at her. “No, the cab. I remember we took a cab cause I remember being in it and singing ‘Rainbow Connection’.”  He closed his eyes. “I really don’t remember why though.”

Y/N gasped softly, remembering something. “Rambeau.” 

Dean opened his eyes to look at her and his expression was all confusion. “Uh…Rocky II. We just naming Stallone movies?”

Y/N made a sound of disgust. “No, B - E - A - U, Rambeau, not Rambo.” When Dean still just stared at her blankly, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “It was the driver’s name, remember. But you thought he -”

“ - said Rainbow!” Dean finished, snapping his fingers. “Right! That’s when we started singing it.” He nodded, happy with their mental sleuthing, and then he shook his head.

“Man, I hope we gave him a big tip.”

Y/N chuckled and then took a big breath. “K, I need coffee, stat. Like a vat of coffee, like, this is a  hook-it-to-my-veins kinda situation.”

Dean grunted his agreement and they both pushed themselves up from the bed with a painful groan. Dean grabbed Y/N’s wrist as they were leaving the room. “Wait, do you remember…did we talk to Sam last night?”

Y/N just shrugged. “Dude, I have no idea.”

“Huh…I feel like we did.” Dean said quietly as he padded towards the kitchen with Y/N trailing just behind him.

When they got to the kitchen Y/N collapsed onto one of the seats at the table and cradled her head in her hands.

Dean walked to the coffee maker and his face lit up. 

“Oh, thank god for a little brother who gets up at the butt crack of dawn to go running to nowhere in particular. He made the coffee already!” He grabbed two cups and brought them and the pot to the table. 

Y/N inhaled deeply, pulling the aroma of the coffee into her lungs. “Do you have cream?”

Dean made a face. “Cream? God no; this is a black coffee household, Y/N. You should know this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, of course. Only manly black coffee for the Winchesters. How foolish of me.”

Dean shot her a grin and nodded in the direction of the fridge. “Might be some milk in the fridge.”

Y/N groaned again as she dragged herself up and stumbled blindly towards the fridge. She looked back at Dean as she pulled open the door. “I swear to God it feels like my muscles are about two minutes away from seizing up all together.”

Dean chuckled as Y/N looked into the fridge and shook her head. “There is nothing resembling milk in this fridge.”

“In the back?”

“Dean, there is no ‘back’ to this fridge. You’ve got three beers and leftover pizza that’s harder than the cardboard box it’s in.” She said as she peered inside. As Dean began rummaging around at the coffee station, she picked up a piece of the pizza and banged the crust against the box.

“That’s just sad.” She muttered.

“Score!” Dean called out just as Y/N closed the fridge door. “Found something called Coffee Whitener! Not CoffeeMate, it’s literally just called coffee whitener.”

“Uh…Dean?”

Dean’s face fell into a frown. “Actually, I don’t know how old this is.”

“Dean.”

“Might be from the fifties.” Dean mumbled. “Cause for the life of me I can’t remember Sam or I ever buying -”

“Dean!” Y/N yelled.

Dean grimaced as her shout made his head pound. “What? Jesus, why are you yelling?”

Y/N was pointing at the fridge door. “What the fuck is this?”

Dean set down the coffee whitener and walked over. “What the fuck is what?”

Y/N just kept pointing as Dean came up beside her to see two wrinkled up pieces of paper stuck to the fridge.

As he read the words he felt his heart clench. He read both letters twice.

He looked at Y/N slowly and couldn’t read what her expression was saying. He shook his head. “I - I mean, I dunno. Where did they come from?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don't know, but that’s my handwriting and…that’s yours. Do you…I mean, do you remember writing them?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I don’t remember. But, I mean…it must have…I mean, it had to be some kind of joke, right? Like we were messing around? Just some kind of drunken joke?”

Y/N was looking away from him, but he shrugged again. “I mean, don’t you think?”

She nodded and her face was scrunched up when she looked at him. “Had to be, right?”

He felt his heart plummet even as he nodded. “Right?”

“Yeah, we were just being stupid, fucking around.” She concluded quietly.

He nodded again. “Yeah.”

They were quiet for a minute before Y/N pointed towards the table. “So, did you say something about 1950’s coffee whitener?”

Dean forced a chuckle. “Yeah, come try it out, if you dare.”

They sat at the table and Dean poured them both coffee. In the end, Y/N just took a bit of sugar in hers, not willing to be a guinea pig for the decades old, mostly chemicals coffee whitener. 

Silence reigned between them, neither of them able to push aside the words in the letters. Finally, Y/N couldn’t take the awkwardness and, pushing her coffee cup aside, she stood up.

“I should probably get going. I gotta shower and change and, you know, try to feel like a human again.” She said with a stilted laugh.

Dean nodded. “Yeah for sure. I’ll drive you.”

Y/N waved him down as he started to stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take the bus. There’s one that comes at 11:00. I’ve taken it before.”

Dean frowned. “Why the hell would you take the bus when I can just drive you.”

Y/N tucked her hair behind her ears nervously. She knew she wouldn't survive a two hour car ride, sitting so close to him but knowing she was never going to get any closer.

...it had to be some kind of joke, right? Dean's dismissive voice echoed in her mind.

So, she shook her head at him. “No, it’s okay. This way you can just rest and feel better. I like the bus. You know, I just put my music on and chill the whole way.”

“Right.” Dean said sardonically, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Cause you know, if I drove you, we’d definitely be listening to an audio book about the sixteenth century Christian Reformation. No music in my car.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “No, I know…but…”

Dean just nodded again. “Yeah, okay. Well, have a good two hour bus ride, I guess.”

Y/N smiled. “I will. I’ll uh…I’ll call you.”

“M’kay.”

Y/N cleared her throat. “See ya.” She said with another plastered-on-smile as she left the kitchen.

“Yeah, see ya.” Dean answered quietly.

About an hour later Dean was still sitting at the kitchen table nursing an ice cold black coffee when he heard the bunker door slam. A minute later Sam walked into the kitchen in his running clothes, sweating and still breathing deeply. 

He went to the sink to fill up his water bottle as he looked back at Dean with a smirk. “You look ill.” Dean just grunted and Sam chuckled as he took a sip of water. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked.

“Went home.” Dean answered shortly.

Sam frowned looking towards the fridge where the letters still hung.  “Didn’t you guys see the letters?”

Dean’s head came up quickly and he stared at Sam. “What do you mean? Why do you know about them?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Who the hell do you think hung them up there?”

Dean shook his head, anger in his expression. “Why the fuck would you do something like that? Y/N saw them and freaked.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you. She saw what I wrote and couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Wouldn’t even take a ride home.” Dean said sullenly.

Sam set his water bottle down on the island, hard. “Oh my god!” He growled. “I might actually strangle you both.” When Dean just continued to frown at him, Sam shook his head. “Didn’t you each read the other’s letter? You guys wrote essentially the same thing to each other. Because you’re both so into each other. Jesus Christ.”

He pushed two hands through his damp hair. “I figured once you both saw it written out right in front of you, you’d realize that you’re both a couple of dumbasses!”

Dean shook his head. “No, she didn’t mean what she wrote. She thought it was some kind of drunken joke.”

Sam scowled. “She told you it was just a joke? She remembered writing her letter?”

“No, but I asked if she thought it was a joke and she said yeah, it had to be. Had to be because she has no interest in me like that.”

“Did she actually say that?” Sam asked, speaking over the end of Dean’s sentence, “Or did she just go along with you when you suggested it was a joke, because that’s what she thought you thought?” 

When Dean didn’t answer Sam growled again in frustration. “For fuck’s sake this is ridiculous. I’m just gonna spell it out for you.” He walked over to stand in front of Dean at the table. “Y/N is madly in love with you.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam sliced his hand through the air. “No, shut up. She is in love with you and you are in love with her, and if you asked one single other person who knows you both, they’ll tell you the exact same thing. Because it is glaringly, abundantly, stupidly obvious, you dumbass. Now go find her at the station, tell her the truth and watch how quickly she tells you she feels the same.”

Dean was frowning. “That's not gonna happen.” But he could feel a spark of hope at his brother’s certainty.

Sam just glared. 

He threw up his hands. “Okay, I’ll go.” He stood up and walked towards the door, stopping on the top step to look back at Sam. “But when she rips my heart out and I lose my best friend, you’re gonna be the one who has to deal with me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed. “Go.”

All the way to the bus station, Dean was running through scenarios in his mind. As he parked outside, his watch said 10:50; was she already gonna be on the bus? Would it be like one of those horrible romcom things, where he had to chase her down through the crowd and then confess his love on a bus full of people. And if he did that, was Sam right? Would she love him back, or was it going to end up as - less funny romcom, more tragic farce? 

He had the scenario half imagined in his head, but when he walked through the doors he was reminded that the Lebanon bus station was actually quite small so, no running from terminal to terminal looking for her. There were only two bus stalls outside to begin with, but also, she was sitting calmly on a bench just across from the door.

He walked towards her and her eyes got wide.

Fuck, I can’t do this. Why the fuck am I doing this? Dean thought over and over.

He stopped in front of her and she looked up at him, her face puzzled. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked up on to the balls of his feet; he shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought…I really wanna give you a ride home.”

Y/N frowned and lifted a hand towards the small ticket office. “I already bought my ticket.”

“Well, get a refund.”

“Why do you want to drive me home so badly?” Y/N asked loudly, frustration tinting her words.

“Why don’t you want me to?” Dean answered even louder.

Y/N let out a huff of air. “I don’t want you to not…I don’t not want…I want not t -” She broke off with a cry of frustration. “Ugh!!”

She looked up at him and her gaze was confused and questioning. “Dean, what is going on here?”

Dean shuffled from foot to foot for a minute, until Y/N started to speak again and he cut her off.

“The letter was true.”

He spoke quietly and he wondered if she’d heard him. He wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to say it again; as it was, he was staring at the ground, his stomach in knots.

“What?”

He shook his head and finally just decided it was all or nothing.

“My letter. What I wrote. It was true. I mean, it was drunken idiocy, but…” He raised his head and looked at her. “It was true.”

“Really?” 

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught relief in her voice, so he smiled at her and gave a resigned nod. 

“Yep. You are my good day.” He said, paraphrasing his letter. “I want kisses from you.” He paused a beat. “And also sex.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry.”

Y/N’s smile was bright and beautiful as she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank god.” She bit her bottom lip and then quoted her letter. “I hope you will kiss me. All the time.”

Dean felt like his chest might actually burst from happiness as he grasped her waist and pulled her close. 

“I can do that.”

He pulled her tight against him, capturing her lips in a kiss that he’d waited for for a very long time. 

Y/N felt lightheaded with joy and with the headiness of Dean’s kiss. His lips were soft and searching as they pressed tightly to hers, and she opened to him immediately, reveling in the deep groan that tumbled out of him as he sank his tongue deep into her mouth. 

They clung to each other, endlessly kissing, sharing breath and stealing each other's moans. Neither of them were one hundred percent sure they weren’t just in a very vivid dream, but both of them were determined that if it was a dream, they didn’t want to wake up. 

The loudspeaker came on announcing that Y/N’s bus was boarding, but neither of them heard it, and neither of them cared. The ticket agent who’d sold her the ticket called out to her.

“Miss, your bus is leav-”

But her coworker interrupted her. “Shh! Are you crazy? Do you see the man kissing her? Trust me she does NOT want to be disturbed.”

She wasn't wrong.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Omg the x transmigrated reader was AWESOME.

I absolutely love it , thank you so much for doing it!

I didn't mind the wait really, you have your own life and thing's to do ! (⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~

Would you mind doing a part 2? Meeting Lucifer and the angels maybe. (Adam,lute etc.. when charlie went to heaven.)

Do I need to describe the reader?? You can leave it blank as " h/c " "e/c" ( h/c meaning hair color and e/c meaning eye color. )

Have a good day and don't stress yourself 〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

Hiya! I’m so glad you enjoyed it! I can absolutely do a part two!! I feel I owe it to you since the last one is so short but i’m really glad it’s whatcha wanted :) hopefully i also do this one justice

Characters present: Charlie; Vaggie; Nifty; Alastor; Husk; Lucifer; Adam; Lute; Sera; Emily (With the focus being on mainly Charlie; Vaggie; Lucifer; Lute; Adam; Sera and emily)

Part 1

Summary: You’ve spent about a week in hell and easily fell into place and routine. It was like a cheat code for life knowing everything that came next, and you made it your mission to meet the angels with Charlie

Warnings: Male Reader, Male pronouns, reader is a goat, implied to be tall, POSSIBLY OOC angels, reader kinda flirted with lute? i couldn’t help it love her teehee, loosely follows plotline but could be holes, cussing, possibly rushed because dude i was literally obsessed with the idea i needed to get it out, let me know if i missed anything! oh and not proofread so sorry luvs xx

Transported

“Couldn’t you just use you magic to bring these in Al?” You grunted setting the last box of supplies down. Alastor hummed flatly, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s more entertaining watching you lug those boxes up all those stairs!”

You gave him cut eye as he laughs, snapping his fingers disappearing to, god only knows where. Taking out a pad and pen from your back pocket, you wrote down all the stock you bought from the store- per Charlie’s request. As you did so your ear twitched picking up the faint sound of tiny pit pats from a certain cherry haired cyclops running around manically.

It wasn’t long before she came barrelling into the kitchen, you however were too occupied to mind her; staying bent over the kitchen counter writing all that you had bought. Nifty without asking, scaled your body, gripping your (h/c) hair and deeply inhaling. Looking up from the paper your hand ceased its writing in shock and confusion.

“Nif, what in the great fuck are you doin?” You asked in disbelief, she only cackled muttering to herself about bad boys and bad… bugs? “Hey can you do me a favour stabby?” You ask grabbing her gently off the nape of your neck and plopping her down below.

She stood at attention, hand in salute before shouting; “Sir yes sir!” You clapped your hands together huffing out a laugh. “Alright, good energy, would you mind helping me out by putting these things away. It’s all food for our patrons and stuff, i gotta go find Charlie and tell her what we couldn’t and could get.”

Nifty once again saluted before zipping around you in a blur. Cautiously you walked off trying to avoid the little speed demon as she zoomed around the kitchen. Once in the lobby you noticed, well a lot, the whole room was decorated, and there hung a banner with ‘welcum home daddy’, which you knew what that meant.

A little pep put in your step you trotted up to Husk at the bar. “Want a drink?” He immediately asked, looking over at you as soon as you got within reaching distance of the bar. You shook your head. “Nah, I wanted to ask if you know where Charlie was? It’s about stock, and i’ve got left over cash,”

Humming the cat shook his head eyebrows raised high. “Good luck with that one kid, she’s up there tryna convince the king to get her into heaven. You could try though, lord knows you will anyway.”

Although his voice was bored and tired, face looking as though he’d just been through hell. Thankfully he grinned at you calming the insecure thoughts that unwelcomingly entered your mind about him being annoyed at your appearance. Perhaps if it was your old life you wouldn’t have cared, but these characters, sinners, people, they were cherishable to you in a indescribable way, and you didn’t want them disliking you.

And that could be arguably unhealthy, but you saw a demon with the head of a chair carrying around their partner -you think?, it’s safe to assume you don’t have to worry about mental wellness and emotional instability or healthy decision making; it’s hell duh.

After waving goodbye to Husk you trotted up the stairs, hooves pounding against the wood a noise you’d recently gotten used to. As you stepped down the hall you wondered if Alastor had already threatened Husk, it would make sense as to why he disappeared while you unboxed, and why Husk seemed so down and out.

You tried to ignore how upset that made you, but realistically you weren’t any match for Al, you may be knowledgeable about the future, but that made you far from immortal or combat savvy. You had to be a little more calculated with situations like that.

Recognizing the voices of Vaggie, Charlie and Lucifer in the distance, you excitedly sped up. Eyes locked on the balcony door, you breathed deeply not wanting to look like a babbling fan boy over the king of hell.

Standing up straight you opened the balcony door, effectively stopping Lucifers railing rant as he hung himself over the edge. “Oh my gosh! This is him, dad! The guy i told you about, dad this is YN, YN, my dad: Lucifer!” Charlie exclaimed happily pushing the king of hell toward you.

His face was turned up in disgust, but you were too enthralled to care, instead you gave him an easy smile sticking out your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you Lucifer, and I apologize Charlie for barging in and interrupting; I came to tell you about to produce I bought.”

Lucifer took your hand shaking it firmly, slowly a smiled appeared. “Ah well, well, uh, you… i mean look at you! You’re huge huh, uh i’ve never seen a goat in hell! Aha, y’know, aside from… me.” Lucifer trailed, pitch raising and dropping rapidly as he observed your looming presence.

Charlie discreetly nudged her father for being so blunt, but you shrugged it off deciding to sway the conversation slightly. “So I just got back from the store, I got everything we needed for the hotel, food wise, aside from toilet paper, Niftys putting everything away. The only thing i didn’t restock was liquor, let’s let Alastor handle that one.”

Vaggie humphed, giving a rare approving smile and nod, involving herself in the conversation after being casted aside to herself. “It’s nice having someone actually spend the money on stuff we ask for.” Charlie tsked at her before focusing back on you and her dad.

“What do you think of this hotel?” Lucifer asked skeptically circling you. Charlie shook her head at her fathers antics but said nothing. “I think it’s possible, why shouldn’t it be.” You say, giving Charlie a sharped tooth smile. Lucifer put his finger and thumb under his chin, he hummed at you, look back at Charlie but he seemed to be elsewhere.

“I think we need a good word in, and some good marketing. No one likes a commercial or ad, y’know.” You add trying to sway Lucifers contemplative thinking into believing in her. After all you don’t think you could do another musical number.

Sighing and lurching forward, Lucifer smiled back at you then to Charlie.

_____

You waited in the lobby checking your watch occasionally, impatiently waiting for Charlie and Vaggie to meet you. You spent a good deal of time talking to Charlie and Vaggie about the things they could say to the angels that you ended up being invited along for the trip. Charlie’s reasonings were that you were a good example of a goodness in hell, which you could agree with but part of that was because you may have not belong.

Needless to say that admittedly was not how you saw yourself weaselling your way into the venture, but eh, didn’t matter to you. You had one of your freshest suits on, compliments of Alastor, your hair styled perfectly after much fighting for the proper look you were seeing angels after all, cologne freshly spritzed and wafting off your body; you felt excited and your readiness reflected that.

Lucifer entered the lobby with a poof, being the one to conjure the portal to heaven. Smiling at him, he returned it and strolled his way to you, swinging his cane. Slamming it down he leaned forward supporting himself with the apple handled of said cane.

Sniffing the air almost comically he hummed approvingly. “That smells, so fucking good!” The exclaimation went straight to your ego immediately feeling better about your decisions with frangrance choice. “Thank you, it’s one similar to my favourites when i was alive.”

Lucifer nodded looking up at you, you could see vulnerability in his eyes briefly before his eyes darted away. “Can you do me a solid? Please,” Lucifer asked quietly stretching upward toward you. Hands in your pants pockets you leaned over just slightly as to not disrespect him and his height, but to get a little closer to him. “Protect Charlie, and Maggie-“

“Vaggie.” You correct quietly. The king shook his head hand coming upward. “Yeah her- anyways, please while your there use your frightening, uh, form, to keep her safe please. I can’t go up there and I’m loosing my mind with worry!”

Lucifer grabbed the rim of his hat pulling it over his face as he stressed no doubt catastrophizing things slightly. “Don’t worry Luce, from goat man to goat man, i got you. Charlie is pretty bright and i do believe she’s got this in the bag. I’m glad you could give her this opportunity as well, i know it’s hard. Good job.” You praised clapping Lucifer on the back, he looked up at you a fog seemingly cleared from his mind.

He thanked you with a new look in his eyes, appreciation for your words was definitely evident in them as well. Without further ado, Charlie came skipping down the stairs, Vaggie way less excited than her girlfriend but that’s understandable. Things always got worse before they got better and it’s not different for Vaggies fallen angel situation.

After a few short hours of travel, another musical introduction, you’d finally got to the place you would be staying. You lingered in the hall, waiting for Charlie to skip on out, maybe you could lessen the brunt for Vaggie. For you it was a show playing out, but for her, momentarily her world will feel crushed and confused and you didn’t want someone you could relate with going through such a thing.

Watching as the door swung open, you backed off into the shadows hoping you wouldn’t notice you, and once she was out of sight you knocked on their door. Opening the door, Vaggie stood there meek and shy looking, and gazing behind her you knew why.

There stood Lute and Adam tall and sharp. “Ouu a throuple interesting.” Adam says slyly smiling, Vaggie visibly cringed at that. “Who the fuck is this guy now!” Lute exclaimed grabbing at Vaggie.

Adam scoffed at Lute muttering at her to chill the fuck out, and thankfully she did stepping off from her attack position. “I came to see how Vaggies doing, who’re you?” You asked faux confusion feeling bubbles of excitement in your stomach, mischief brewing in your mind. “Uh duh, Adam the first fucking man, shit what’s with you losers.”

Adam was clearly pissed off, at your invasion but you didn’t intend to back off, instead you walked in beside Vaggie. You don’t remember them just appearing in the room when you were watching the show, but perhaps your mind is confused a bit.

It’s been awhile since you got here. “I, you filthy demon, am Lute,” You interrupted her finger pointed her way. “As in short for lieutenant?” Adam snickered and Vaggie pulled at you. “Please leave they, we, have to have a talk.” Looking towards Adam, Lute and then Vaggie, you decided the best thing to do was let it all play out.

With a prompt nod you turned to the door. “I’ll wait outside then.” Adam pushed Vaggie away from the door, he grabbed it and pointed a finger at you. “I won’t lie dude, you look fucking sick, hard shit, but next time you look at me fucking sideways, i will rock your shit. I am the literal MAN.” Slamming the door in your face you were greeted with silence.

Well for a moment. You could begin to hear Adam compliment your form toward Lute, saying they needed “horns like that” because they were “way more wicked”. It did strike your ego ever so slightly, in a way you suppose you and Adam could get along. You did enjoy guitar, and you wouldn’t mind knocking him down a peg for a little enjoyment. Plus, he lost his first loves literally made solely for him, you could sympathize with that heartbreak and how it changes you.

You weren’t shocked to hear the point of the conversation turn manipulative, as Adam threatened to tell Charlie that Vaggie was a fallen. You knew all their backstories though, you knew how this would go, so it almost felt fake pretending. It’s not that you didn’t feel for the emotions they felt because you truly did, you just new how momentarily it would be in the grand schemes of things.

The only problem seemed to be, when the show ends, do you end too? Would you then suddenly thrusted out of this world, become a part of it? You weren’t sure you wanted to think about that.

Hearing the door open, your head slowly and lazily swayed toward the sound watching Adam exit the room with Lute, only to have the door slammed on their heels. “Pft, on the rag.” Adam muttered hands on his hips, then his eyes travelled towards you. “The fuck are you doing, spying around?” Lute accused eyes hard as they lassered into your soul.

Your mouth shrugged and you shook your head no. Lute however didn’t let up stepped up to you making you cast your eyes down to her. You smiled mischievously at her, it was so cool seeing her yellow eyes stare into your (e/c) ones for real, not just some 2D colours on LEDs.

“I can smell the filth from a mile away. Whatever you and that antichrist have planned i will not stop until i sniff it out.” Lute gritted out angrily, Adam sticking up the bird in the background. Scoffing you shook your head. “Whatever pretty thing, i mean no harm,” You put your hands up defensively before continuing. “I only come for business. Trust, I and especially Charlie mean no harm. Heh, and i think you know Vaggies innocent.”

Lutes mouth hung open as Adam ‘aha’d pointing a finger out you. “You fucking freak! You were spying. Pound it.” Adam at first screamed than calmed down a coy smile present on his face. Lute groaned frustratingly at Adam. “We will fucking end you filthy sinners. We need to go!” Lute called as she walked away, Adam shrugged a cup materializing from nowhere for him to suck down.

Grinning you called out to Lute as she walked away. “Love you too sugar! See you in court.” You twiddled your fingers in their direction the two of them glanced back at your voice. Adam kept yapping to Lute but she was too busy sulking to herself.

You expected to be actually hit by one of them by now, maybe it was because you were in heaven that they couldn’t, or maybe Lucifer was right, you just looked frightening. Although you didn’t see what he saw, in your opinion you just looked slightly different.

Who knows though. Your whole worlds flipped upside down.

Walking aimlessly around the holy fortress you eyed everything around you and worried not about angels; most of them ran or avoided you. After all you were maybe the scariest outside of Adam with his mask.

Your eyes locked on an angel with dark skin and lavender hair. “Emily.” You accidentally say aloud, you grimaced watching her turn to you, and look up in awe. “Woah! You must be Charlie’s friend!” She exclaimed happily fluttering over to you. “Uh, yeah, YN, nice to meet you Emily. Sorry I went straight to the rooms i promised to unload things for Vaggie and Charlie so they wouldn’t stress themselves. I didn’t mean to ignore.” You say watching as he nodded along fully attentive.

“Oh that’s fine! I was so excited and distracted by Charlie and everything I barely noticed i’m sorry,” She trailed finger to her lip, she now realized that didn’t sound as good aloud as it did in her head. You brushed it off telling her it was fine. “I hope i don’t scare you, i’m used to myself but all these angels seem a little… disturbed.” You explained.

You weren’t gonna lie the looks you’ve been getting are what fueled the rush to get things over with, so you could get back to more welcoming eyes, well welcoming as they can be. It felt awful to be the centre of attention that was negative especially since you already really didn’t belong to this world.

“Oh no! You’re totally fine! I mean you are intimidating but if what Charlie said is true you’re a great man- uh, goat?” You laughed a genuine boastful laugh at her comment. “Yeah, goat man is good. Thank you Em, i appreciate it.” Her wings fluttered hands clapping rapidly. “I love when my nickname gets used!”

“Emily,” A warm voice spoke, approaching the space you took up in the communal space you were in. “We have to prepare, court is going to be in session soon.” Sera said placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. You met Sera’s eyes and immediately she looked as if she was pushed slightly, the hand not resting on Emily’s shoulder rushed up to her head.

Coming to herself she harshly questioned you. “What, and who are you?” A little taken aback by such a intro, you stuttered and stalled for the first time since being here. Most things flowed naturally but now it seemed something was, wrong.

“Sera! This is Charlie’s friend, the one accompanying them, the good one.” Emily whispered the last part to Sera who didn’t let up her seering gaze. “You don’t look like you belong here.”

Your blood ran cold at that sentence, what Emily assumed was a simple statement of your appearance to you was more of an acknowledgment. One that was specifically for you to understand that she knew. There was no mistaking it in her eyes either, it was like she was telepathically telling you that the gig was up.

Clearing your throat you nod once in finality. “Well, uh, let’s get to court hm?”

[eunchancorner]

SO uhm

Initially this was going to be a blurb. Then I got hooked on writing out the story and suddenly wanted to pull in a third party and the dialogue started doing whatever it wanted so uhm

Long story short I'm starting to remember why writing is so fun

“W-wait, Leon, c’mon, y-you’re not really mad, right?” Ethan stammered out, backing away from his admittedly much scarier boyfriend. He’d had the idea of spooking Leon with a quick tase to his sides, but had unfortunately forgotten to account for the cup of soda in his hands.

The soda that was now all over the front of Leon’s shirt.

“You made me make a mess of myself! And now…” Leon took a second to think, before a smirk crossed his face as he thought of a punishment that’s proven to work at least for a while at their house.

“Now I’m gonna turn you into a mess!”

Suddenly Ethan was on his back, squealing as Leon’s fingers dug into his sides, sending sparks of ticklish energy shooting through his body. Of course this was what he resorted to. Ethan should have known this was coming for a long time. In fact, he sort of got the feeling that Leon wasn’t just tickling him over the soda.

Or at least, he did until his brain was flooded with ‘ITTICKLESITTICKLESNOBADBUTYESGOOD??’ as Leon’s fingers climbed his ribs, his touch becoming lighter and lighter the higher he went, planning each move carefully, slowly turning Ethan’s brain to mush with a smirk.

“Leheheon plehehehease! Ihi’m sohohohorry!” he managed between laughs, squeaking and almost folding as he suddenly received a poke to his belly, which turned into Leon scribbling all over it, leaving his ribs tingling and the anticipation of Leon going after his worse spot left unchecked.

“Aww, you didn’t think I was gonna kill ya that fast did you? I said I was going to turn you into a mess, and I know how easily anticipation does that for you. You need your tickles to be quick and easy for you to keep any sort of brain function. And that usually leads to revenge. But if I’m gonna turn you into a mess the right way, I’m gonna need your brain to basically melt.”

“H-hohow do youhu knohohow ahall thihihis?!” Ethan questioned as Leon’s fingers began to drift to his sides again.

“Dude, please, we’ve been friends since high school. You think I wouldn’t have picked up on all this by now?” Leon answered, still smirking as though he felt like the smartest man in the world for figuring out what kind of tickles made his boyfriend tick. “But, do you wanna know something else?”

“Whahahahat?”

“A little birdie told me tickle games get to you really bad~”

I’m going to fucking kill Liv, Ethan thought, his giggles calming as Leon retracted his hands and began to think.

“What game should we play, Ethan? The claw game? Maybe we could play rib piano? Or arms up? I know how much you love that one~” Leon listed the games off, watching Ethan’s face get redder and redder as he mentioned each game. Still, Ethan could never resist the urge to be a little shit.

“Aha… ahas much as you love tummy raspberries?”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as he saw a blush cross Leon’s face before he narrowed his eyes and simply said “Arms up.”

“Ahaw shit…” Ethan mumbled as he slowly raised his arms, knowing he was in for it now. He squeaked softly as he felt Leon’s gentle fingers slowly touch down and begin to trace gentle patterns along his wrists, moving at an agonizingly slow pace down his forearms. Ethan fought a losing battle against a wobbly smile spreading like his own blush across his face, gripping onto a table leg that was just above him, causing it to scoot forward with a small, sudden scraping noise.

“Aww, what’s wrong? Can’t get through without something to help?” Leon cooed as he traced little swirls around Ethan’s inner elbows, watching in amusement as the goth struggled to hold back his giggles. “C’mon, Ethan, no cheating.~”

“Pff- i-it’s nohot- snrk- not cheating!” he squeaked out in response.

“Not not cheating? Wouldn’t that mean it is cheating? I dunno, double negatives are stupid… either way, it sounds to me like you are cheating! And you know what happens to cheaters, don’t you?~” he warned, his gentle fingers slowly traveling down Ethan’s arms and towards his underarms.

“N-nohoho, nonono, L-Leheon, wait!” he squeaked out before yelping as Leon suddenly moved to his sides, just above where his belt held his shirt tightly to his waist.

“God, dude, why do you wear these things so high? I can’t get to your hips like this!”

“Doho NOHOT tahake my behelts ohohoff!” Ethan warned with a light shove.

“I’m not, I’m not, but that can’t be comfortable, I’m just saying. They’re covering half of your sides! I might just have to tickle you again after you change out of this, just so I can do what I really wanted!”

“Gohod you’re soho mehehean!”

“Oh I’M mean? Mister Tickles Everyone Every Chance He Gets is calling ME mean? You could just admit you can’t handle the teasing, you don’t have to make shit up just to look big.”

“Nohow lohohook whoho’s beheing a hypohocrihihite!”

Leon didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes told Ethan he’d sassed him for the last time. Before he knew it, there was suddenly an unbearably gentle tracing just between his ribs and underarms, making his arms snap down in response as an embarrassingly high squeal ripped from his throat, his giggles skipping straight to hysterics, filled with squeals and shrieks every couple of seconds as Leon went a little too fast for his brain to keep up with properly.

“Ohp, looks like you lost, guess I’ll just have to keep tickling here~” Leon purred, holding back an amused laugh as Ethan struggled to string sounds into words and words into sentences, knowing his brain was filled with nothing but fireworks of energy, listening to his boots stomping loudly onto the floor behind him. Something he failed to notice, much to Ethan’s embarrassment, was the sound of a door shutting behind him.

“What the hell is all the noise…?” he heard a tired voice, Liv’s, behind him and turned to look at her, not slowing his tickles in the slightest.

“I’m tickling Ethan to death,” he answered simply.

“Ah… What happened to your shirt?”

“This little fucker happened. Why did you think I was tickling him?”

“Because he makes you look like a big puppy almost daily?”

“... Listen, don’t make me come after you next!” he warned with a blush, prompting Liv to raise her hands in surrender.

“Ohokay, okay, whatever you say, big man.” She came over to the two and knelt down beside Ethan. “God, him being such a big, scary tickler all the time can make ya forget how cute of a lee he is. I mean, look at him, his face matches his shirt at this point! What have you been doing to the poor guy, Leon?”

“KIHIHIHILLING MEHEHEHEHE!!” Ethan somehow managed through his laughter, squealing as Leon softly drummed over his tiny death spot the best he could beneath his arms.

“Teaching him a lesson about being a brat and a hypocrite. Can you believe he had the audacity to call me mean AND try to tease his way out of this? He caused this himself,” Leon corrected. “Anyway, I think now he’s just mad he lost the Arms Up game so I’m just gonna keep doing this until he apologizes.”

“Ah, so that’s what woke me up…”

“Why were you asleep at 3:30 in the afternoon, ya weirdo?”

“Oh, fuck off, it’s not my fault Streber’s tummy is comfortable. I wanted to hang out, eventually we ended up snuggling, my head was on his tummy, and you know how fucken soft he is so you also probably know what came next.”

“Ah, yeah, I get it. Did he do that thing, too, where he like, messes with your hair?”

“He did, it was so nice! He said it helps him focus but I honestly just think he knows we like it at this point. Does he ever do that to you, Ethan?” She turned to the goth, who was still pinned under (and getting the absolute shit tickled out of him by) his boyfriend, who only responded by shakily flipping her off, still finding speaking difficult between his hysterics, prompting a quiet laugh from the redhead.

“You gonna let him up anytime soon? I think he’s dying,” she asked Leon, who rolled his eyes but let up anyway, stretching his arms as Ethan slowly calmed down.

“Yeahhh, I think he’s enough of a mess. Got anything smart to say now, Eth?”

“Aheheh… awashb… yuhu… grrehehe…” he mumbled out, not making one bit of sense to himself, much less either of them.

“Oho god you got him speaking a whole other language,” Liv giggled at Ethan’s state.

“Is that even a language? I don’t even understand what he’s trying to say!” Leon pointed out, scooping up the giggly goth in his arms.

“Gibberish is a language… sorta,” she tried to argue. “It’s sorta communication.”

Leon rolled his eyes as he chuckled softly.

“Well last time I checked, Ethan’s first language was English-”

“I thought it was Spanish?”

“No, no, he’s just really fluent in Spanish, that doesn’t make it his first language.”

“Ohhh, I always thought he spoke it so well because it was his first. I could never, honestly.”

“Yeah, I know, right? It’s actually really fucken impressive. Anyway, since English is his first language and he can’t even speak that properly, I think my work is almost done here.”

“Almost?”

“You think I’m just gonna tickle my boyfriend and not cuddle with him afterwards? Do I look like a monster to you?”

“Depends on the kinda monster. Tickle monster? Yeah, very much so, actually.”

“Pft- ok, fair. C’mon, the cuddle window is closing, and if he’s not in a fluff coma soon, he’s not gonna be the only one asked why he was being so loud. Wanna watch a movie?” he asked as he carried Ethan to the couch, followed closely by Liv, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah yeah yeah! Let’s watch Pirates Of The Caribbean again!” she suggested, Leon rolling his eyes.

“You recommend that like, every time, why do I even ask anymore?” he teased, grabbing the remote and putting the movie on.

“The illusion of choice, my friend!”

Leon shook his head, chuckling quietly as he held Ethan close, the taller’s head resting on his shoulder, snuggled as close as he could be.In the few thoughts that were coherent in Ethan’s head, one of them was definitely, Worth it.

[inanimatetffantasies]

Roommates make good socks

Based on a old rp i did with @justcockyideas

Jason sighed contently as he pulled up his new sock, the clean new white cotton being snug and fit onto his large size 15 foot. He had just gotten through with telling one of his flatmates that he was going to have to kick him out, and he thinks that conversation went veeery nicely. He let out a chuckle as he flexed his foot, watching the cotton conform to the will of his toes, before suddenly hearing the front door open.

“Hey Corey! Can you come in here man” He said, remembering he had to talk to his other flatmate about moving out too. Corey put his bag down, glad to be home at last. He wondered where his roommate Chris was, he was usually gaming on the sofa at this time. When he heard his other roommate call him in, he shrugged it off and went to see what Jason needed.

“Yoooo Corey" Jason said with a grin as he beckoned Corey closer into the room. “Come on in here man, I gotta talk to you, don’t be nervous I ain't gonna bite” The bearded roomie said with a chuckle, his legs spread out across the floor.

As Corey walked in, he raised a eyebrow, noticing Jason was only wearing one almost pristine sock, like it was only just being worn for the first time. Quickly, though, his focus shifted to his roommates spread legs. Corey always did have a crush on his roommate, even with Jason's annoying frat bro attitude. He tried to divert his attention to talking to his roommate and sat down on the chair beside Jason's bed. "Hey Man, What did you want to talk about?"

“Come on, man, come a little closer” Jason said as he wrapped his arm around his roommates neck, pulling him closer to his chest, his armpits musk somewhat noticeable now, as well his feet. It made Corey weak. Jason knew this, his musk was like a spider web and Corey was his fly. “Dude…ya know you’re my best friend right! Even though you’re gay n all that shit like…you know you’re like a brother to me right? Well, Bro, Its just well…a dude like needs his space you know? And I think its time this apartment like…opens up”

"What do you mean? I don't understand…Open up? I know the place is small but we all have enough space I thought" Now Corey's tone was beginning to sound a bit worried, "You want me to move out? Bro, what the hell?"

Jason, amused at the situation, give a deep chuckle a bit before sighing. “Yep…you sound just like Chris. Ya see he said the exact same thing. Dude got all like…pushy when I told him I wanted him to leave. You know how he is, always with a foot up his ass” He said as he began laughing at his own joke, wiggling his toes in his sock as he did so. “…..but the dude came around…I just had to relocate him, now he's gonna stay in my room! Just tucked in my sock drawer is all” Jason continued, as a shit eating grin spread across his bearded lips.

Corey shuffled away quickly, a concerned and confused look on his face "Wait what? relocate? sock? what are you talking about man?" He stared at his roommates smile and then looked to his feet, with only one wearing that fresh sock, and started to slowly inch away more.

"If this is some fucked up joke, I really don't get it man…"

As Jason saw Corey back away, he let give out a low exasperated sigh. “Why cant you guys have just said yes and just moved out” He say before snapping his fingers. Corey's body suddenly feeling strange as he quickly became very very light. “Jeez…it could have been so much easier, still , at least I don't have to worry about finding a matching sock for Chris now" his voice slightly perking up.

Corey suddenly felt lighter then air, that and a sense of dread "Jason, man, please, I don't understand….what's…happen…" Corey's mouth felt dry, and soft... before it felt like it was being stitched shut, albeit painlessly, Jason made sure of that. Corey started to shrink and in a poof, where he once was, a white, clean sock appeared before falling to the dirty floor.

“Oh be quiet man, I know you're gonna like it” Jason say with a chuckle before reaching over to the sock, picking it up and inspecting it. “Damn…just like Chris, nice and soft” He say with a grin, Corey's body now just a sock in Jason's hand. A sadistic chuckle came from Jason when he flipped his new sock and saw "Corey, Jason's Property, Size 15. Machine Wash Only" embroidered within the fabric. It made his cock bulge and tent in his shorts.

“Man…it really sucks how much of a clean freak you guys both are. You were such nice bros too” I say with a stern face before a grin spreads around his beard “...which makes this even more fuckin hot” before he pulled the new sock over his large foot, his warm smelly feet completely filling Corey up.

“You know…you should be happy dude!” Jason said as he flexed his big, meaty, toes inside the soft, warm sock “You and Chris can finally be my bros for life! Or well…socks for life” he say with a deep hearty chuckle before letting out a satisfied sigh “plus…I know you’ve been obsessed with me since Jr High…now you’ve got a reason to be with the big man for life”

Jason ended up keeping his roommates as his new socks. The two boys absorbed every drop of sweat and musk that came off those two big bad boys. Jason always thought it was insane how clean his roommates were were as people, but after a few days of partying, Jason sat down on his bedroom floor, and flexed both of his favourite socks, noticing how much darker and filthy the socks had became. “Fuck..my sweat really did fuck you guys up huh?” He said, knowing the socks minds were just soggied up, sweat filled, musk reeking, cotton mush at this point, completely corrupted and in love with his mighty feet.

Jason found it so fucking hot, how much of an effect he had on the two, that he began rubbing his meat, leaking precum into his shorts “god…you two are the bestest friends a bro like me could ever have…" Jason took off his shorts, exposing his excited cock, and lay on his bed. He peeled Corey off his foot, and slid him onto the eagerly waiting cockmeat. "lets see how absorbent you are tonight Corey…got a fat load waiting” He starting to rub the browned sock against his shaft as he peeled off Chris from his other foot and starting to sniff him. The socks shuddered, as Jason got ready to truly break in his sock boys.

The Corey sock was rubbed against the massive cock by Jason's sweaty hand, getting cock grime adhered to it's browned fabric, until its owner let out a primal growl, and shot a fat load right into the sock. Jason caught his breath as he watched his sock dampen and darken on his throbbing cock. Jason rubbed the sock across his cock to catch any loose cum, and left Corey on his softening cock, putting Chris back on his sweaty, unwashed foot. He pulled the cover over his body, yawning before falling asleep. Corey and Chris left in darkness under the bedsheet. Corey forced to absorb his masters cooling cum, and Chris being rubbed against Jason's other foot...

images sources are dallasfeet (i think, cant find the image source but that's what i think that watermark says) or otherwise unknown.

[smoshyourheadin]

Could u do a spencer fic where it’s like him playing guitar in a band and like the smosh team go to support him? Kinda like a guitarist x audience typa moment cause I miss spencer’s guitar lives! :(

to spencer

pairing: spencer agnew x smosh family

a/n: non x reader fic BUT ohmygod i love them. theyre so cute. i could CRY! requests open <3

the small venue buzzed with anticipation as spencer and his band took the stage, guitars gleaming under the spotlights. the familiar hum of tuning and the soft murmur of the crowd filled the air, blending into an atmosphere charged with excitement.

among the audience, the smosh team clustered near the front, eager to support their friend. courtney nudged shayne with a grin. "can't wait to hear spencer play. it's been too long!"

shayne nodded enthusiastically, eyes fixed on the stage where spencer stood, his fingers poised over the strings of his favorite guitar. nearby, ian and anthony exchanged nods of approval, ready to enjoy the music.

as spencer strummed the opening chords, a wave of melody washed over the crowd, drawing everyone into the rhythm of the music. his fingers danced across the fretboard with practiced ease, each note ringing clear and true.

"god damn, he's really in his element," tommy remarked.

"yeah, you can tell he loves what he's doing," arasha added, eyes sparkling with admiration.

the songs flowed one into another, each one a testament to spencer's skill and passion. his guitar solos were mesmerizing, weaving intricate melodies that seemed to lift the audience to another plane.

as his fingers danced across the neck of his guitar to ‘all along the watchtower’ by jimi hendrix, damien found himself nodding along, caught up in the infectious energy of the performance. "he's killing it up there."

nearby, shayne grinned. "that's our spencer."

as the set reached its climax, spencer's fingers flew over the strings in a final flourish, the music crescendoing to a thunderous applause. the crowd erupted in cheers, voices raised in appreciation for the unforgettable performance.

backstage, the smosh team waited eagerly as spencer and his bandmates returned, a little sweaty but elated from the show.

courtney was the first to hug him, beaming with pride. "you were amazing, spencer!"

"seriously, dude, that was awesome," alex added, clapping him on the back.

spencer grinned, a mix of relief and happiness evident in his expression. "thanks, guys. it means a lot that you came out to support."

chanse nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "wouldn't have missed it for the world."

outside, the night air was cool and crisp, stars twinkling overhead. the smosh team lingered for a moment longer, savoring the camaraderie and the shared experience of a night filled with music and friendship.

"here's to more nights like this," courtney said, raising her imaginary glass.

"to spencer," damien added, echoing the sentiment.

they clinked their imaginary glasses together, and spent the night praising their own musical genius.

[mortiferumsomnum]

HELP! I ACCIDENTALLY GOT ENGAGED TO THE GHOST KING!

EDIT: Masterlist

***

Please excuse the stupid Manhwa title, but Jon is panicking right now. Like, really, really, REALLY panicking.

Damian is going to kill him.

Wait, no.

He’ll save him, AND THEN kill him.

NO.

He’ll save him, become the Ghost King HIMSELF, AND THEN KILL HIM.

Oh man, oh god, oh NO--

“Dude, are you done?”

The very Ghost King he got engaged to is sitting on some kind of bean-bag blob ghost with the most tired expression, like in that one meme. And Jon is the girl that’s crying with his fingers closed together while trying to explain his point.

The blob ghost under the Ghost King made a happy purr.

“Danny, my dude, please, you--- you need to understand. WE ARE ALL ABOUT TO DIE.”

The Ghost King, Danny, huffed in tired amusement. And he was about to say something, but Jon grabbed Danny by the shoulders and glared deep into his eyes. He doesn’t understand. Jon will make Danny understand. 

“Relax,” Danny said before Jon could say anything, phasing out of his hold to float in the air. He crossed his arms behind his head as he yawned. “I mean, what’s he gonna do? Bust in here with a sword and declare a battle for your hand?”

“Yes,” Jon replied without a beat. “He would. That’s exactly what he would do.”

How did Jon even get into this mess in the first place?

***

It had been a beautiful day. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, and teens like Jon were happily chatting amongst themselves as they headed home from school. Jon in particular was waiting in the parking lot for Damian to pick him up. He was seated on the wheel-stop, in the place where Damian would usually park his car, looking through his phone while listening to some of his music.

A classmate of his walked up to Jon with a wide smile. He couldn’t remember her name, but he’s seen her in Homeroom and Geometry. He knows that she’s very studious and works well in groups. But Jon hasn’t really interacted with her much... or at all. So, it’s a wonder why she’s coming up to him.

“Hey, Kent!” she greeted, bringing out a piece of paper to show in front of him. A bunch of names and signatures were on it. A few, Jon could recognize from his own classmates.

“We’re signing a petition,” she said, excitedly. “It’s to help keep Coach Harold as our P.E. teacher.”

Jon raised his brow in surprise. “What’s-- uh-- What’s going on? Is he getting fired?” 

He’s such a good teacher! A good coach! He never pushes if it’s out of his classmates’ abilities, and he also makes sure that everyone is safe no matter how easy the activity. He’s patient, understanding, and a lot like Jon’s dad. Well, the man is a fan of Superman, so maybe that’s why? It doesn’t matter! 

His classmate, who he still couldn’t remember the name of, huffed in annoyance. “Apparently, he’s already fired.”

Jon shot up from where he was sitting, almost floating into the air, but catching himself before he could. “What do you mean he was already fired?! What was--- What was he even accused of?!”

“Harming a student.”

“What--”

“Yeah,” his classmate said, huffing. “I heard it from the injured student himself. It wasn’t Coach Harold. The school’s protecting another teacher. I don’t know how to get the other teacher to face consequences, so I asked our homeroom teacher what we could do to keep Coach Harold.”

“And it’s a petition?” Jon asked.

His classmate grinned, showing him the paper once more. “I have five more of these babies in my bag. If you sign, you’re gonna be the 250th signature, Kent!”

Jon reached a hand out, and his classmate let him take the paper. He read the written request at the top, and at the other names and signatures. Then, he brought out a ballpen he kept on himself at all times - a habit he gained from his parents. Without a beat, he signed his name.

“All done,” he said, giving the paper back. His classmate cheered, and looked at the paper in wonder, making Jon chuckle. “But uh...” shoot, he still doesn’t remember her name, “don’t you think this petition would hold more weight if our parents signed it?”

His classmate giggled. And... it wasn’t a nice giggle. This one caused the hair on his arms to raise, a chill to run down his back. She grinned at him, and Jon could see how her skin turned into a pale blue color, her hair turning into flames, and the paper in her hand growing longer and longer with Jon’s name and signature at the very bottom, along with one named Daniel Fenton.

“Jonathan Kent,” her voice wasn’t as cheery anymore. It was mocking. She floated in the air and made the paper disappear in her hands. “Thank you for your cooperation, Future Prince Consort. With this, my job with the Observants are done!”

She rose into the air.

Jon flew into the air to go after her.

And before Jon knew it, she grabbed his arm and made both of them invisible. The world around him passed in a blur until he saw a green, swirling portal. He tried to stop them, tried to pull away, but she only clutched harder, flew faster. He screamed as they entered the portal.

The next thing Jon knew, he was in front of some royal, who looked to be the same age as him. It didn’t matter if he was donned in a cape that seemed to be made of galaxies. It didn’t matter if he also looked as blue as all the other residents in the... palace? Was this a palace? Whatever!

What mattered was that when Jon searched for heartbeats, there was none. No one in this room was alive.

Then, with an echoing laugh, his classmate-turned-crazy-lady disappeared from the room.

“What’s going on?” the royal-looking teen asked.

And, yeah, that’s what Jon wants to know! But, the people around him only bowed in response. “Your Highness,” said the Giant... Yeti? Was that a Yeti?!?!? “We congratulate you on your engagement.”

“Excuse me?” the royal asked, as flabbergasted as Jon was. “I’m only sixteen.”

SO AM I! Jon wanted to scream. 

“Did you not sign a paper from the Matchmaker?” the Yeti asked.

The royal blinked. “Is... that what she was? Also, she said it was a petition.”

EXACTLY! 

Jon felt faint. But also, “What-- What do you mean by Matchmaker?” he asked. Everyone was looking at Jon now, but the royal nodded for him to continue. So, Jon did, his heart beating loudly in his ears. “Don’t they just-- just, y’know-- find matches and stuff? Isn’t the actual engagement planning done by-- by, I dunno, the families??”

The yeti gave Jon a rueful smile. “She doubles as the officiator, unfortunately,” he said. Turning his head towards the King, his face turns apologetic. “She’s been doing this for millennia, Your Highness. The rules for engagement prior marriage has not changed, even as Pariah Dark slept.”

Um, what? Pariah-who-now?

“The only way to cancel this engagement is to rip the contract that had been signed between you.”

Sounds easy enough-- NOT.

The King didn’t seem to be panicking. But, his face did look troubled.

He looked to Jon, then he looked to the people in the large hall. They were all still kneeling. The King raised a hand and, with a loud and booming voice, ordered for all to rise. 

“Frostbite, Fright Knight, stay,” he said. Then to the rest of the people, “All of you, leave. We shall cut our activity short.”

No one complained, all nodding and murmuring in understanding. Jon watched as the people disappeared one by one. There are little, green blobs cleaning up buffet tables by eating the remaining food, and larger blobs eating the tables and chairs. It was bizarre and cute.

After that, the King led Jon to his personal quarters, the Yeti and this Giant Knightly looking dude following after them. It was there that Jon learned that they were not just people, they were ghosts! And that he was in a realm called the Ghost Zone. And that he got engaged to THE Ghost King! 

Sugar honey iced tea, this isn’t good. 

“A ghost marriage,” Jon mumbled hauntingly to himself, holding his head in hands. He was seated on a... beanbag blob ghost that purred and tried swatting at Jon’s ankles with its blobby hand. Jon let it.

The King, who turned out to be the other name at the bottom, Daniel “call me Danny” Fenton, snorted. He was seated on his own blob-bag, sipping some kind of ghost slurpie with a tired look. He was changed into a comfortable looking hoodie and sweats, his socked feet also being swatted by blob hands. “Could be, but it’s not. You’re alive and I’m half-alive.”

This then led to Jon’s panic-fest, which actually lasted for only a few minutes.

****

“We have to find that-- that contract and rip it before Damian gets here,” Jon said. 

Danny nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “Fright Knight is doing his best to track down where the Matchmaker could be. And then, after that, I’m going to make sure to rewrite all these outdated laws one by one. First one I’ll rewrite is the legal age requirement for everything. BTW, my dude, is there a legal age requirement for engagements?”

“Uh... I think it only applies to marriage,” Jon replied, also thoughtful. Then, he sat back down in his blob-bag, which caused the blob to purr and swat at his ankles again. “How long do you think this will take?”

Danny shrugged. “Probably a few hours. Maybe days.”

“And... in the living realm? Or-- or at least, my realm?”

Danny shrugged unhelpfully once more. “Depends. What’s your Realm? The one with Spider-man?”

What. “...Who’s Spider-man?”

“Oh... so, is it the one with Percy Jackson??”

Jon only gave a confused look.

“How about Sonic the Hedgehog?”

“The game?”

Danny sat up with a grin. “Sorry. How about you tell me a famous hero from your Realm.”

“Wait-wait-waiiiiiittt, there are multiple realms? Like--- like, different worlds?!”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “An Infinite amount, actually.” He sipped from his never-ending slurpie cup. “Now, tell me a hero, not-future-consort!”

Jon huffed. Then, he grinned. “Does Superman ring a bell?”

To Jon’s disappointment, there is no ‘Whoa!!! Your Realm has Superman?!’ or ‘So cool! Does Batman also exist in your Realm?! What about the Justice League?!’ 

Instead, Danny nodded. “Good, good. Now, you said that Damian is your boyfriend, so you must be from one of the Minor Realms connected to the Main Realm that it was based off of. In other words - an alternate reality... basically.”

Jon was confused now. “What? Alternate reality? There are more versions of my realm? And, if not Damian, who-- who would be my partner in the Main Realm?”

Danny made a thoughtful look. “I believe it was... Jay Nakamura?”

Jon blinked. “Who’s that?”

Danny waved a hand. “You saved his college from a school shooter. It’s not important to your realm--”

“College?! I’m in high-school!! A Sophomore!!”

“I didn’t look much into his school - it’s probably just called a college and is actually just some K-12 and Higher Education kind of school - but I’m pretty sure he’s just 17--”

“HOW DID DAMIAN TAKE THIS?!”

Danny’s eyes glazed a bit. Then, “He... smiled? Oh, Ancients, that is one scary smile. But, he’s impressed? Jay Nakamura is part of some news site that reports everything the media’s too afraid to report about.”

Jon gaped. Then, he shook his head. “I’ll have you know that Damian smiles all the time! And it’s not scary!”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You’re dating the Beast, dear Belle. You’re already immune. Now, tell me other important things about your realm so that searching through the minor realms would be easier.”

Jon frowned. “How many minor realms are there?”

Danny sighed. “Jon, my dude, imagine the main realm as a movie, or a really good book, or an extremely good comic. And then, the minor realms are the non-canon series or films, comics, or fan-works that surrounds that piece of media. And as you know, people go crazy when it comes to fanworks, am I right? So, can you imagine the thousands of minor realms that are based off of the main realm?”

Yeah. Jon can imagine it. Which causes him to pale. “Will I--- Will I be able to go back?” he asks. 

“Of course,” said Danny, not at all troubled. “It’ll just take me time because I haven’t practiced as much. But, I’ll be able to bring you back once we’re done with all this engagement madness.”

Then, Jon wondered, “Are there also multiple Ghost Zone Realms?”

Danny nodded. “I’m not the only King of the Infinite Realms. There are other versions of myself, as well. Once a Realm exists, there will be alternate realities born from it. Sometimes, even Minor Realms could turn into Main Realms if there are more minor realms born from it.”

“Huh...” Jon said. Then, “What’s the-- um-- Main Realm for this one like?”

Danny smiled. “Apparently, I’m just an ordinary boy with ghost powers, and that’s what a halfa is. But, if you look into its minor realms, most of my alternate selves, and I mean MOST of them, are referred as half-dead and half-alive. Other me’s are tortured, vivisected, and have horrible parents. Honestly, it’s really concerning--- Ah, I think I found it.”

Jon, who was making a very alarmed expression a while ago, now perked up from where he sat on his blob-bag. “What is it? Did you find my realm?”

“I hope so!” Danny said, waving a hand to create a hologram-like image in the air. “Bloodthirsty, yandere-like Damian looking around a school parking lot for clues on where you disappeared to?”

Jon looked closely to Damian. He was talking into his communicator, probably to Batman, while holding on to Jon’s backpack that was left in the parking lot.

“Yeah,” Jon said, a lump in his throat. “That--- That’s him.” 

He watched as Damian yelled into his communicator, obviously alarmed by what was going on. He watched as Superman landed beside Damian, a face full of worry that Jon would only see from his father and never from the Man of Steel. He watches as Kon lands next to Superman, demanding where Jon could be, why they couldn’t hear Jon’s heartbeat.

Jon reached out towards the magical-window-thingy that allowed him to see and hear what they were doing and going to do. But then his hand reached through it, the magic swirling around his fingers.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch was gentle, and he turned to see Danny giving him a soft smile. “I guess time is running the same time as this Realm,” said Danny, causing Jon to huff. Then, he said, more seriously then before, “I’ll get you out of this mess, I promise.”

Jon nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

Danny was about to say something, when, “If anything happens to Jon, I’m going to kill everyone in this world and then myself---”

“Now, Damian--”

“Don’t you ‘Now, Damian’ me, Clone! My beloved is missing, and if I find a single scratch on his body, or a single hair missing, I WILL. KILL. EVERYONE.”

Danny whistled. “Wow. Main-Damian wasn’t so bloodthirsty... Well, anymore. Interesting to know that there’s a Damian that actually enhanced his bloodlust.” 

Then, he made the magical window go away and pulled up two more. “Frostbite, Fright Knight. Please make more of an effort to find the Matchmaker. Danny’s concern about his lover finding the Ghost Realm may actually be possible, I’m afraid.”

“Understood, My King,” said Fright Knight. 

Frostbite hummed thoughtfully. “She’s hiding really well, Your Highness. We’ll be sure to quadruple our efforts.”

Danny nodded and waved the windows away.

Jon sighed, anxiety wracking up once more. Will things be okay?

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Chipped Nails

Pairing: Dude Ranch Era!Tom Delonge x Fem!Reader

A/N: I’ve never written for a real person before and now just characters so it was definitely new! Please lmk if you think I wrote Tom badly - other fics I’ve seen write their whole personality as ‘haha 2000s skater boy make sex joke’ which I get but I don’t love. Like they’re real people even with their childishness. I have a part two coming to this and more blink stuff!

Summary: Y/N won’t let Tom go out with his nail polish chipped while Tom struggles to keep his feelings under wraps!

Tom could hear the sound of the hairdryer going in Y/N’s room, catching a glimpse of her shadow moving around through the crack in the door. He laid on her bed, throwing a ball up and down in the air as he waited for his friend to get ready.

“The guys will be here soon you know?” he whined, kicking his feet off the end of the bed as he threw the ball higher, almost dropping it on his face when he looked up at the sound of the door opening.

“Would you stop complaining,” Y/N laughed at her friend, as she made her way to her vanity to do her makeup, dumping her products on the table and sitting down, “I’ve literally taken 5 seconds.”

“Ugh that’s too long,” Tom cries out exasperated, waving one hand around as the other keeps throwing the ball higher and higher each time.

“Damn remind me never to sleep with you then,” she laughs, turning around to look at Tom who’s face has gone bright red at his friend mentioning sleeping with him. Regardless of the thick layer of sarcasm Tom can’t help the flustered feeling that seeps into his chest at the mere mention of sex coming from Y/N. The butterflies that start to spasm in his stomach are by no means a new development in their friendship, they’ve been happening for years now, seeming to get both more intense as more impossible to act on as the years go on.

It’s been like this for as long as they’ve known each other, Tom’s been infatuated with Y/N since he first saw her, but as he found himself getting to know her more and becoming closer friends, he found himself completely lost as to how to get those feelings out of him.

Mark talked him out of his depressive rambles of how deep in the friend zone a while ago, but even as his 18-year-old angst passes for his slightly less cliché 21-year-old angst, he just can’t bring himself to say anything.

As he finds his mind wandering he brings his hand up subconsciously and starts twisting his lip piercing around, too in his own head to notice Y/N’s dreamy gaze locked on his face until he puts his hand up and she gags.

“Ew Tom,” she sits down on the bed in front of him and grabs his hand, “your nail polish is gross!”

Tom pulls his hand away in a vain attempt to dampen the heat he feels rushing to his cheeks again, “dude what the fuck? They look fine.”

“They’re chipped as fuck,” Y/N laughs, taking his hand again gently, “how do you plan on getting the girls with chipped nails Tommy?” She scolds playfully, eyebrow raised.

“The girls don’t care what they look like,” Tom smirks as he holds his hand up and wiggles his fingers, “just how they feel.”

She lets out a noise of shock, pushing his shoulder as he flops back onto the bed, “that’s gross! You kiss your mother with that mouth do you?”

He leans up on his arm to look at her, shaking his head, “nah, just yours.”

“Wow Tom. Such a charmer you are, remind me again why you don’t have a girlfriend” she rolls her eyes smiling at him, grabbing his arm to pull him back up again and closer to her, “come on then gimme your hand.”

She leans over to her vanity and grabs a bottle of black nail polish, opening it and placing the bottle in one of Tom’s hand as she holds the other. As she begins to paint his nails Tom stares in awe at his friend. His heart races at the feeling of her hand in his, soft and small compared to his large, calloused hand, his skin tingles where her fingers are each time she pulls away to move his hand slightly.

She looks so beautiful like this, hair falling in front of her face as she leans over slightly to look down at his hands; he imagines pushing it back behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek as he leans in to kiss her. She’s got the prettiest lips, painted in lipstick that he so badly wants to let her leave all over his everywhere.

He’s got it bad, he knows that, but for the first time since they’ve met he wants to do something about it. Feeling bold, he moves his hand to hold hers, making her stop and look up at him through her hair.

He goes to say something but can’t, nothing charming or smooth or even stupid is coming to mind as he stares blankly at her lips. He feels her hand squeeze down on his gently as her eyes flutter closed almost in slow-motion, and together they’re leaning in.

“HEY HO! LETS GO!” violently shakes the pair from their moment as Y/N gets up startled and fumbles around on the bed to find her phone where the ringtone is blasting from, hands shaking as she tries to act casually.

“Hey hoe,” Mark’s voice sounds at the other end of the phone, Y/N barely hearing it over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, “what the fuck are you guys doing? We’ve been calling you both for ages.”

“Ya’ll really have a warped perception of ages,” she mumbles bending down to put on her shoes as she puts the phone on speaker, “we were just getting ready.”

“Y/N was just doing my nails,” Tom yells as he grabs his jacket and quickly walks towards the door, “can’t be jacking you off without a fresh mani can I?”

[bratdotcom]

Love Notes = Lunchbox Post-its(?)

( Brock Samson x coworker!reader || he's starting to like you more than he thought... )

Was he getting soft? Brock felt like he was getting soft. He felt a pang in his chest whenever he saw the yellow square-shaped post-its you left in the lunches you made for him and the rest of the family. It was either that, or early stage heartburn from the constant stress he was under protecting two sixteen year old boys who couldn't keep their heads out of trouble along with their father who seemed more interested in milking his dear old dad's legacy than hanging out with his own flesh and blood. Who was he to judge? He was getting paid.

He can hear the boys chittering from the backseat, the both of them most obviously gawking over the little notes you left in their Bizzy Bee themed lunch boxes.

"This obviously proves I'm the favorite." Dean says, with utter confidence as he holds the note you wrote for him in front of his brother's face. Hank, in between bites of his ham and cheese sandwich, reads what you wrote. Brock didn't have time to focus on what the boys were doing. As long as they didn't distract him as he drove, he couldn't care less. "No way, dude! Just because you got a drawing of a cowboy on yours doesn't mean you're the favorite-" Hank pulls out a note of his own, showing it to his brother."I mean, does (Y/N) even have a favorite?" he asks, setting his half-eaten sandwich inside his lunchbox.

Brock was starting to regret letting the boys eat in his car. He couldn't imagine the crumbs they'd leave in between Adrianna's leather seats. He turns up the radio, drowning out the sounds of Dean and Hank bickering with each other.

"Will you two knock it off?! I am trying to nap." Dr. Venture raises his seat to face the boys properly, clearly annoyed that they were interrupting his nap. Brock sighs through his teeth, fingers lightly drumming against the wheel as they wait through traffic. He drowns out the sound of the family arguing with one another to Blue Oyster Cult.

With everyone finally out of his hair and his car, Brock pulls out the post-it you wrote for him. He stares absentmindedly at it. When was the last time he felt like this? Genuinely cared for by another person?

He gets out of his Dodge Charger with a small grunt, rolling the ball of his left shoulder with a stretch of his arm.He looks around the garage, making sure no one else is around. Including H.E.L.P.eR. Sure, he appreciated that lunk of metals and motherboards, but he preferred cleaning his car on his own.

Rinse and repeat. Brock hums quietly to himself the bass line of one of his cassette tapes. He didn't bother to check which one he popped in this time. It was a slow day, surprisingly. The note you left him was in the dashboard of his car. He's able to glance at it every now and then as he lets the hose do its work.

"Don't fuckin' die!" the note read in a neat, almost cursive ballpoint pen. He could imagine you smiling as you wrote and doodled on post-its, slipping them neatly into lunchboxes and brown paper bags.

It was almost silly. Brock smiling to himself as his eyes read over your note over and over again. He almost doesn't register the garage door opening over the sound of Stone Temple Pilots playing on the radio.

"Hungry?" Your voice cuts through the music. He lowers it once you're in view. Brock's steely blues pull away from his car to you. "I brought your favorite." You add,smiling as you hold up a plate of apple slices and peanut butter.

Brock honestly didn't have a favorite, but he didn't want to ruin it. You always packed them into his lunches. He couldn't complain.

You listen to his words intently in between bites of apples dipped in peanut butter.

"Doc got a call from an old friend down south. Turns out the guy is some kook, and he tried chasing us out of his house." You grimace at the thought of what he's saying. It sounded like something out of a horror movie. Brock has seen some shit. Weird shit. He wipes his mouth on his hand. "Oh, and Dean got nicked, so we had to give him an emergency tetanus shot 30,000 feet in the air." he adds on casually, checking his own reflection in the hood of his car.

In the corner of his eye, he gauges your reaction. He almost snorts, seeing the absolutely terrified look on your face. "After a while, you get used to it. The obscurity of it all, I mean." he says, snapping an apple slice in between his teeth. He almost holds it like a cigarette out of habit. "Really?" You ask in disbelief, leaning your back against the small cart parked right next to his car. "Yes, really." he replies, slightly amused. "You're working for Venture now. It's time you act like it."

Brock finishes eating the snack you gave him. Either you put something else in it, or his mind was playing tricks on him. Apples and peanut butter weren't that good. Maybe he just liked you more than he should've. "Mind if I..?" he trails off, pulling a pack of Marlboro Reds from his jacket pocket. "No, not at all." You wave your hand quickly. "Didn't Dr. Venture say you can only smoke those outside the compound?" You ask, unsure if you watched the employee recruitment video right. When was the last time they updated that thing?

Brock almost forgets that himself. "You catch on quickly, don't you?" he asks in a slightly teasing tone, a small smile forming on his angular features. His tone of voice almost goes over your head as you blink. "Of course I do. Try to, anyway." You try to reply back the smoothest way possible.

"Let's take this conversation outside." he says, taking an unlit cig and putting it in between his lips.

[gingerale2017]

A Moment for Jealousy

Fluff Words: 2k Pairing: Cinder Linh x Kai Fandom: The Lunar Chronicles Setting: Dating AU post-college Warnings: None that I know of Ao3 Link

“Stars, you’re kidding right?” Seventeen-year-old Cinder asked her then-boyfriend at the time.

He smiled like a moron and giggled. “Darlin’ I know what I’m doin’. Have some trust, will ya’?”

Cinder sighed, though he was an idiot, she adored when he faked a deep southern drawl. At least she did before he annoyed her to death.

Naive, dumb, desperate teenager Cinder.

Blue eyes sparkling up at her, he turned on the bike and sped away without adjusting his helmet all the way first.

“Wait! Your helmet!” She cried but he was too far gone.

By the time he came back, she was waiting for him with a grumpy expression on her face.

“What’s with the frown?” He asked, innocently raising an eyebrow.

She scowled. “That was dangerous. Don’t do that again.”

He smiled, ignoring her. “That was glorious, thanks for fixing up the bike for me, hey.”

“Thorne, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” He laughed. Then he tried to kiss her. She dodged his mouth and backed away.

“What’s with the attitude, babe?”

“Don’t call me that!” She whipped around and walked away.

He grabbed her hand and turned her back around. “Seriously, what’d I do now?”

“What do you mean ‘what I do now?’”

“I mean, you’re always mad at me for something-”

“I told you why I’m mad at you, and you don’t listen to me!” She cried. Stars above, she wanted to slap this guy.

“Yeah, and it’s stupid!-“ She actually slapped him. “Hey! What the hell?!” He spat out.

“I’m done, Thorne. I hate this relationship and I hate you-“

“WHY?! WHAT’D I DO?!”

“Don’t cut me off.” Cinder lifted a gloved finger and glared at him into silence. He felt her quiet threat and quieted down. “You never listen to me and you always do what you want. I’m done trying to mother you around all the time.”

He stared at her for a moment. Then he said the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard in an argument before. “Aw, come on. Y’know I got mommy issues.”

She yelled curses at him and broke up with him. Then she walked away without turning back.

“You’re kidding, he actually said that?” Kai said, giddy like a mother gossiping on Facebook.

Twenty-seven-year-old Cinder nodded. “Yup.”

“Come on! At least it was funny!” Thorne said, scrambling for a defense.

Kai began to choke with laughter. “You are SO embarrassing, dude!”

Thorne scowled. “You’re not much better.”

Kai cocked his head as if he sensed a challenge. “I’m a better boyfriend, though.”

“Okay, let’s not go there.” Iko crawled towards the middle of their circle where they sat on the floor. Iko sensed some sort of animosity going on, one that Cinder definitely missed.

“Go where?” Asked Thorne innocently.

“Jealousy wars.” Iko said without explaining.

Kai scrunched his eyebrows. “What jealousy? No one’s jealous, I mean, how could I?”

Iko side-glanced at Cinder who was playing with the rug. Oh, why couldn’t this girl comfort her own boyfriend before his mind spiraled with jealousy? He only found out about Cinder and Thorne tonight because Cinder never thinks of it as important. Telling your partner that you dated your current best friend that you still hang out with often is pretty important. At least to Iko, it was. And she had the sense it was pretty important to Kai too.

“I’m hungry! Scarlet!!! Hurry!!!” Iko whined.

“What am I, your personal chef? Give me a second.” Scarlet yelled back.

Iko sniffed at the insult. “Sorry!” She cried. Kai and Thorne laughed about some separate joke. Good, it didn’t seem to affect them that much.

Yet, throughout the whole night, Iko couldn’t help but notice how Kai would watch Cinder talk with Thorne, and when during those interactions he would get close to Cinder and just stand there. How he made a face when Cinder sat next to Thorne at dinner. How he offered to help Cinder with every action she made. How he kept interrupting Thorne when he talked to her. Thank the stars Cress wasn't here. Who knows how that tiny overthinker would rack her brain?

When it was time to leave, Cinder and Kai were the first to leave. She hugged everyone goodbye, including Thorne. To everyone else, including the ones hugging, it looked like a normal embrace. To Kai, it felt as if Thorne’s hands were a little too low on her back. He completely forgot Thorne had Cress, whom he absolutely adored, waiting back home.

The drive to Kai’s apartment was spent in comfortable silence, at least to Cinder. Kai’s mind kept working itself, saying not to worry, nothing was going on! That was ten years ago. It was also saying that if they had feelings for each other once, they could have it again.

Oh, but they did have feelings for each other. Feelings of familial love. But Kai refused to acknowledge that. Poor guy was always self-sabotaging himself.

What did she even see in that douchebag anyways? She kept commenting on his blue eyes and his recklessness. Kai had brown eyes and was quite precautious. They were so different.

“Hey, darling?” He murmured while they were stopped at a light. She looked at him.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“Nothing, I just never thought you and Thorne never would’ve dated. You guys are basically like siblings.”

She cringed. “We are. That’s what makes that whole situation horrible. One of my biggest regrets.”

“I know. But how did you even… I don’t know how to phrase this.” The light turned green.

“Fall for him?” She groaned. “Aces, I don’t even know. I think I never did actually, and I misread my feelings for him. They were supposed to be platonic, that’s why romance didn’t, and never will, work out for us.”

She smiled at him, but he continued to worry his lip. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing.” He said said non-reassuringly. They pulled into the apartment complex parking lot.

“You sure?” She hesitated before continuing as he parked. “You aren’t jealous, are you?”

“NO!” He jumped, slamming the brakes. She yelped as her body flew forward. He set the gears in park and apologized.

Cinder laughed at the revelation, even when he opened the door for her, and stared with discontent. “Kai, I can’t believe it!” She snorted. “You’re jealous of Thorne!”

“I’m not!” He yelped, helping her out of the car. “Never say that again.” Him? Kai Prince? Jealous? Unlikely. Jealous of Carswell Thorne? Highly unlikely.

She kept teasing him until they reached his unit. As they walked in, Kai kept trying to think of ways to convince her he wasn’t jealous when she calmed down.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of, Kai.” She murmured, getting close to him.

He gulped as she smiled. She was so pretty, it almost hurt him. Kai didn’t even think twice when he pressed her against the door and kissed her.

Cinder made a surprised sound that he muffled with his mouth before getting lost in the kiss. He moved his hands up and down her body with the pace of their movements. When they sped up, he squeezed her waist and kissed her deeper, enough to manufacture another sound out of her. He couldn’t help his smile, effectively breaking their kiss. She smiled back up at him.

An idea sprouted in the corner of his mind that he subconsciously chose to act on. Once they caught their breath, he moved to the length of her neck. Kai did this often, and Cinder noted it as one of his favorite ‘moves’. She wasn’t wrong.

This time, though, as pressed himself against her he murmured: “I bet he didn’t kiss you like this, right?”

The vibrations of his voice were deep enough to send shivers down her body. “No one ever has, Kai.” Cinder was barely able to whisper back. Her hand slid up to the base of his neck where she absent-mindedly pulled on the baby strands there.

He chuckled against her skin, she held on to him tighter. “I hope no one ever does. Besides me, of course.” He said breathlessly, too preoccupied with pleasing her.

He began to kiss her again but Cinder froze. She couldn’t tell what about his phrasing threw her off, but some part of it did. It knocked right out of that ‘kissing headspace’ or zone, whatever you call the haze you’re in while making out.

He didn’t get the hint and continued to kiss her neck, wrapped in his desire.

“Kai?” She started. He didn’t budge. “Kai, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on.”

He froze, immediately pulling away. “What happened?” He panicked as his brow furrowed as he continued to hold her near to him.

“Nothing!” She scrambled, noticing the hurt look on his face. “Just give me a second.”

“What’d I do?” He asked, practically begging her for an answer with his eyes.

Cinder blinked. Virtually nothing about their relationship reminded her of the disaster that was her and Thorne, but his little ‘What’d I do?’ was oddly similar to Thorne and their breakup day.

Except when Thorne said it, he was accusatory and angry. Kai looked like a kicked puppy.

She smiled, trying to reassure him by rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “I know you feel about me, and that you love-”

“Endlessly, I love you eternally, darling.” He butt in.

She gave him a knowing glance that told him to let her finish. “You love me endlessly, got it. And I love kissing you, don’t get me wrong. You’re a very good kisser.”

Kai smiled proudly. She continued. “But I don’t want you to kiss me like you have something to prove.”

He cocked his head, confused. “I don’t understand.”

She sighed. “I don’t know how to say this. Bottom line: you’re jealous and you want to prove to me that you’re better than my small list of exes.”

Kai was speechless, a rarity amongst his characteristics.

She squeezed his cheeks with both hands. “Trust me, Kai. I already know you’re better than all of them. You don’t have to prove it to me.” Cinder rubbed his arms, pleading with her eyes. “Just kiss me.”

He chewed on his lip, a habit he picked up from her. “Just kiss you?”

“Yeah, just kiss me.” He was still confused but was trying not to seem like he was. She could tell. “I just want to get this out; I also get jealous sometimes.”

He sputtered. “Of what?!”

“Your not-so-small list of exes.” She said with a raised eyebrow.

He softened, petting her sides. “Oh, Love, there’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Even when I don’t look like that one model you dated? I was thinking about curling my hair like hers once.”

“No, of course not! You don’t have to change anything about yourself. The way you are is the reason I fell in love with you.”

Cinder sighed dramatically. “How do I know that I’m better for you than her? How do I prove that to you?”

He leaned closer to her, trying to convince her of what she already knew. “You don’t have to prove anything to-” He paused, suddenly shutting his eyes.

“Oh, I see.” He said, finally. He dug his head into the crook of her neck like an embarrassed ostrich.

A ridiculous smile broke out on her face. “You see, babe?” She laughed, petting his hair.

“I’m sorry.” He said, muffled by her skin.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She kissed his ear. “I forgive you regardless.”

He pulled away and flashed her with sparkling puppy-dog eyes. “In that case, can I kiss you again?”

She smiled. “Of course.”

A/N: Basically this is more of a practice for a type of writing style i’m trying out, though i don’t know if i dod it well. also i personally love writing kai jealous, it’s one of my favorite past times. i would have done this more differently if i thought about it more, but this is a quick fic. hope you enjoy regardless. also, I DO NOT SHIP CINDER AND THONRE. hopefully this fic will forever serve as evidence.

tagging: @just2bubbly @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @the-wee-woo-royal @deprivedmusicaljunkie @crescentchat @wheresmymom-imlost @salt-warrior @rapunzelfromthemoon @briggycat @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp @definitelynotisabel @wassupnye @therealkaidertrash21 (these are for my kaider ONLY fics so please ask if you want to be tagged or removed <3)

[defectivevillain]

save your tears

pairing: donatello x reader

reader’s pronouns: unspecified, but masc-intended

You hate your job. Working at Albearto’s is your own personal hell. Not only do you have to maintain an overly cheerful attitude at all times, but you also have to clean up after messy children and sing birthday songs nearly every hour. Furthermore, the animatronics that are supposed to sing the songs with you rarely ever work. Your boss loves to yell at you for that, which you think is a bit unfair, since you have no control over the animatronics. 

“Get through the birthday song this time,” your boss orders, crossing one leg over the other in his fancy office chair. You’re currently standing in his office, resisting the urge to cry, scream, or even run away. You grit your teeth and bite back your objections. Once you finally manage to escape the interrogation, you make your way to the stage and, subsequently, the bear animatronic. You press the button on the back of Albearto’s neck, only for it not to move. Your heart is positively racing, especially when you notice the group of children waiting expectantly. You take a deep breath and rush behind the stage, dialing a familiar number with shaking hands. 

Thankfully, Donnie answers the phone. “Dude, I really need your help,” you say, biting your lip. You pause for a moment to take in the scene before you. Donnie is standing in front of the camera, his attention on you. Mikey and Raph appear to be fighting in the background, while Leo watches on with a disgruntled expression. 

“For you, anything,” Donnie says with a worrying amount of sincerity. You feel yourself getting flustered for a moment. “As long as it does not involve bees, or spiders, or beach balls.” You chuckle, a warm feeling rising in your chest. 

“It doesn't involve any of those things,” you reassure him. The turtle sighs in relief. You take another deep breath, needing to keep yourself calm amidst the chaos. The children standing in front of the stage scream and you grimace. “Can you fix Albearto?” Donnie moves to say something but he’s interrupted. 

“You still haven’t gotten through the “Happy Birthday” song yet?” Leo’s voice reaches your ears. Raph and Mikey say something along those lines, too, and you stay silent. You can’t help but feel incredibly embarrassed at failing to do something so simple. 

“Just help me, please.” Your desperation must be evident in your voice, because Donatello’s eyes widen and his expression turns serious. He nods and says that they'll be there in a few minutes. You try to tell him that you don’t need all four of them, but Donnie ignores you and hangs up. You exhale slowly and close your eyes, hoping that they arrive quickly.

Thankfully, Donnie and his brothers arrive within five minutes. Leo, Raph, and Mikey quickly disappear—likely to look for pizza—while Donnie walks over to you. You resist the inexplicable urge to hug him in gratitude and instead try to explain the situation. Donnie nods and goes to look at Albearto. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like anything will blow up or break apart. 

“You know you’re too good for this place,” Donatello remarks, as he's tinkering around with the animatronic’s wires. You raise an eyebrow, shocked that he’s talking to you while doing his work. The turtle has always been weirdly insistent on having silence while he works. At least, until now. “I mean, a bunch of gremlin kids…”

“I don't really have a choice,” you admit, picking at a thread on your sleeve. You look up at Donnie, only to find that he’s already staring at you. “This was the only place hiring.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Donnie says before turning back to the animatronic in front of him. He works in silence for the next few minutes. Your eyes are drawn to him as he fixes Albearto. His fingers are nimble and quick as he rearranges wires with ease. Before you can begin to envy him, Donnie jumps up and grins. “Voila, Albearto 2.14.2!”

“Thank you so much,” you choke out, only feeling a little better. Admittedly, you still feel pretty stressed. That much must be evident, because Donnie’s eyebrows furrow and his gaze flits about your face as if searching for something. His lips part to say something before he’s swiftly interrupted by his brothers. 

“Thanks for the pizza,” Leo grins, walking up to the two of you. Raph and Mikey echo the sentiment. For a moment, the group of you stand around awkwardly. Immediately, you realize you need to get back to the birthday party. Muttering out apologies, you race back to the stage. Luckily, the boys get the hint and they turn to walk away. Leo, Mikey, and Raph all wave goodbye over their shoulders and Donnie smiles at you before following behind them. 

The party goes pretty well, somehow. You get through the entire birthday song, which is a new record for you. Unfortunately, the children are still messy as hell. When they finally leave, hours later, there is garbage everywhere. Your boss walks in at the worst time—just as you’re about to begin cleaning up—and stares in disbelief. You don't get the time to explain, as he promptly snatches the badge from your shirt and tells you to get lost. You desperately want to argue, but instead you order him to mail your paycheck and walk out. You maintain an air of tranquility, even as you hop down into the sewer and towards the turtles’ hideaway.

You walk in to find Mikey playing video games and Ralph tossing something up and down in the air. You voice greetings to the both of them before taking a few steps further into their hideout. Leo is nowhere to be found. You idly wonder where Donnie is.

“Albearto sang to the kids, right?” a familiar voice asks. You look to the side, only to find Donnie staring at you expectantly. You’re a bit surprised that he’s asking, considering he typically has absolute faith in his inventions.

“Yeah, he did,” you nod, your voice cracking towards the end of the sentence. Donnie raises an eyebrow at you, evidently sensing the discord in your voice. “Thanks, Donnie.”

“What’s wrong?” You immediately curse Donatello’s observation skills. You avert your eyes from his intense gaze and focus on the wall. It takes you a few moments to even say it. You’re brutally aware of Mikey and Raph’s attention suddenly fixed on you, too. The reality of the situation is beginning to dawn on you. You don't have a job anymore. 

“I got fired,” you manage to choke out. You shake your head in disbelief, unable to shake off the unfair dismissal. You had absolutely no control over the children and their messiness. Donnie visibly stiffens. “It didn’t really matter, in the end.”

Your eyes burn and your chest feels tight. Before you can quite process what you’re doing, you’re walking to the other room. You’re lost in your thoughts, so much so that you miss the exchange between the turtles behind you. The four brothers exchange worried glances, before Donnie nods resolutely and follows after you. Meanwhile, you move to sit on the couch in the corner of the empty room, burying your head in your knees. Embarrassment, anger, irritation, and guilt all battle for prominence in your mind. 

“Hey, hey,” Donnie says from his position in the doorway, concern leaking into his voice. He moves to sit down next to you and slings an arm around your shoulders reassuringly—a motion you would be flustered by, if you weren’t panicking. “That dump definitely isn’t worth crying over.”

“I know,” you laugh wetly. You wipe at your eyes and look up to meet your friend’s eyes. Donnie is staring at you with a worried expression. You can’t help but let out a pained laugh. “I just... wanted to repay you guys.”

“What?” Donatello looks at you in complete and utter confusion, which only makes you feel guiltier. You’re practically taking advantage of their kindness. Remorse prickling along your skin, you shake your head. 

“You guys have always been so nice to me,” you start, wiping at your eyes again. The tears won’t stop now. You take a few shuddering gasps, unexpectedly robbed of breath. Donnie’s hand slips down and spreads reassuring warmth to your back. “I just feel like a burden. I-I wanted to do something for you.”

“You don’t have to pay us back,” Donatello squints at you, as if that much were obvious. “You just being here is repayment enough. We all want you here.” The expression on his face is so honest that you audibly choke on your breath. The all encompassing pronoun doesn’t leave your mind. We. 

“Oh,” you murmur quietly. You’re a bit lost for words. The proximity between Donatello and you is suddenly rather noticeable. Donnie’s leg is touching yours and you swallow hard. 

“And you are not a burden,” Donnie states with absolute certainty, turning to put his hands on your jaw. His thumb ghosts over your bottom lip and, before you can process what’s happening, he’s surging forward and kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck and he tugs you closer, to the point where you’re nearly sitting in his lap. Within a few seconds, a pointed cough sounds from the hallway. 

The two of you reluctantly break apart and turn around, only to find Raph, Mikey, and Leo standing in the doorway. You completely freeze and Donnie’s eyes widen. The turtles stare back at you. Evidently, it’s too late to try to play it off. 

To your surprise, Mikey starts clapping excitedly and grinning at the both of you. Raph mimes choking and gagging. Meanwhile, Leo has an infuriatingly knowing expression on his face. You roll your eyes at the three of them. Donnie goes an interesting shade of red and his hands slip from your face, as he races over to his brothers and starts to yell at them. Before long, the four brothers are in a fight of sorts. You can’t help but laugh at their antics. They all grin and throw themselves at you. All of a sudden, you’re smushed by the four exceedingly muscular turtles. Before long, a fond smile slips onto your face and you hug them back. 

endnotes: yall. Y’ALL.... I just came across tmnt rise (since my family didn’t have Netflix until abt a month ago)... safe to say I am absolutely in love with Donnie. in the 2012 series, my favorite was Leonardo but... BUT.... I have changed lanes 😭 sobs. 

and the way i only got to ep2 before immediately thinking about fic ideas.... sigh. my fourth grade self is screamingggg.