#God. i talk big shit about standing up to my white friends if they say something inappropriate but. i don't :(

[anna-hawk]

The Eggnog Effect

Nicomund the Red | Santa Claus x F!Reader

Summary: You passed out on your friend's couch and wake up to find Santa Claus leaving a gift for your godchild.

WC: 6.2k // Explicit 🔞

Warnings: Christmas smut, bad jokes and cheesy wordplays

For @roguesandsaviors who's love for David Harbour triggered me into trying my hand at writing smut for someone else than Jon 😁

Also on AO3

You frowned as you slowly woke up, wondering about the small tinkling sound that got you out of your slumber in the first place. Cracking one eye open, you tried to make out your immediate surroundings, but your face was smushed into a pillow. A throw pillow, to be more precise. 

Ever since the birth of your godchild, your best friend and husband had started asking you to spend Christmas Eve with them. How could you say no to witnessing the kid’s eyes growing big with wonder after discovering the presents lying underneath the Christmas tree? 

Usually, though, you spent the night in the guest bedroom and not on the living room couch. You berated yourself for the sore neck you were likely getting from the sleeping position and grumbling internally about the long hours spent at work today that resulted in your exhaustion when you heard that noise again.  

Blinking and opening both eyes now, you glimpsed some movement to the side of the couch, where you knew the Christmas tree to be. As you twisted to your back, your eyes caught onto something red and large and… 

“Oh God, I really need to leave off the eggnog next time… I’m actually seeing Santa now,” you groaned and quickly rubbed over your tired eyes. 

Except that there was that tinkling again, more agitated, which made you open your eyes once more only to be met by the sight of a large man standing stock still just a few feet away from you. His wide eyes stared at you with a mix of panic and annoyance. 

“Oh shit,” you breathed as realization sank in, and you understood that your brain wasn’t playing tricks on you but that there was a stranger in the house and… You opened your mouth to scream, but the man was on you in a fraction of a second. A large palm covered the entire lower half of your face and stopped you from uttering any sound, while the other hand held the man up on the armrest under your head. 

“Shhh,” he hissed, his eyes lifting to the entrance of the living room to check if anyone was coming, before they bore into yours.

Oddly enough, and maybe it was still the eggnog talking, you didn’t try to fight, despite the way his large frame loomed over you. You didn’t move at all, actually, as you met his gaze. The only thought going through your mind was, oh, he’s got blue eyes. You stayed in the same position for several more seconds, his eyes never leaving yours as he assessed the situation. Realizing that you weren’t going to out him, the man slowly removed his hand from you and stood. You stayed where you were, observing him curiously; the white blond curly beard and hair under an askew red and white cap, the deep red leather coat lined with white fur spanning over a wide chest and shoulders, a pair of shiny, black boots. Everything about him screamed Santa Claus, but he was also nothing like the various men playing Santa in malls and other places. Those other Santas had also never elicited such a strong response from your body, either. 

“Who are you?” you breathed, mindful to keep your voice down, when really, the question should have been what are you doing here? Or, what do you want? 

“Who do you think I am?” he grumbled, while you watched him glare at a small bag and rummage around in it with a frustrated expression. 

Your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets when the man thrust his whole arm into the bag, and it just vanished inside, which should have been impossible given how tiny the bag was compared to his arm. 

“Where the fuck is it?” 

“I didn’t know that Santa swears,” you snorted at the absolutely crazy sight in front of you. 

“He does when the presents aren’t where they’re fucking meant to be,” he muttered, before his face turned into a satisfied grin. “Aha.” His arm slowly came back out, followed by a large, neatly wrapped present. 

You blinked in rapid succession as you took in the size of the present and the size of the bag again. Yup, something was definitely up. A bicycle, for a five-year-old or not, would never fit in that bag if something… You snorted to yourself as the word magical ran through your mind. Don’t be ridiculous, you thought to yourself. But then the man pulled out an actual scroll of parchment, which started to glow as he pulled it apart. Sitting up, you stared at the man as he scanned the contents of the scroll with a thoughtful look. 

“What’s that? Your naughty and nice list?” you sniggered, while pulling your legs under you on the couch and letting your eyes drift over him appreciatively. 

“Mmhm,” he replied absently, seemingly looking for something in particular. 

Your eyebrows rose in surprise at his easy admittance, before you began laughing under your breath. 

“Tell me, Santa. Am I on your naughty list?” You leaned your head against your palm and rested your elbow on the armrest, smirking as you drawled the word naughty. 

“Nope,” he answered instantly, while your flirty expression went completely unseen since he still didn’t look at you.

You frowned curiously at his reply and tilted your head to one side before slowly getting up and approaching him. This, at least, seemed to catch his attention because his eyes snapped to you as soon as you moved. He watched you with a slight frown. Curious. 

“You sure?” you grinned. 

This was all absolutely crazy. There was a fucking stranger in your friends’ house, pretending to be Santa and looking damn fine in that role, yet here you were, flirting outrageously with him anyway, when flirting usually felt awkward to you. The eggnog definitely was at play here. 

He chuckled and said your name. Your full name, which had you stopping dead in your tracks as you stared at him with wide eyes. 

“You’ve never been on the naughty list once,” he finished with a shrug. 

“How… Who…” 

How could he know your name? If he were a burglar, he’d probably only know your friends’ names since they were on the mailbox. He could have looked them up and seen your name popup in your best friend’s feeds on social media, but to what end? He’d just left a goddamn bike for your godchild instead of taking something. And that bag? That wasn’t a trick. 

The man sighed deeply. “Adults,” he muttered, before thinking for a second. “Do you remember what you wished for on Christmas when you were eight?” 

Taken aback by the question, you frowned and thought for a second before memories hit you, and you nodded as you opened your mouth to reply. Except that he said the same thing as you did at the exact same time as you. You took in a sharp breath of surprise. How could he know that? It was far too specific to be a random guess. Only if… 

“So what are you going to do when you leave? Pull a Men In Black and wipe my memory or something?” You crossed your arms with a chuckle as your brain accepted the crazy truth.

He snorted and shrugged. “Trust me, the very few people who have actually seen me have never talked about me. And if they did,” he trailed off with another meaningful shrug that clearly said, who’s gonna believe them? 

You nodded faintly at his logic. He wasn’t wrong. 

“I’m curious, though… What’s your actual name? Santa? Kris? Nick?” You headed to where your godchild had left the cookies and milk and picked up the plate with the cookies. You chose one for yourself and offered one to… Santa. 

He took a cookie but didn’t look away from you, his head shaking in amusement a second later. 

“Really? Of all the things you could ask, that’s what you wanna know?” 

You shrugged and bit off a piece of cookie, the man doing the same before he glanced down at it with an appreciative sound and nod, then looked into your expectant face again. 

“You can call me whatever you want. The list is pretty long.”

“But none of them are correct,” you surmised, watching him reach for the milk glass and taking a large gulp. “How about… Daddy Christmas?” 

You had to hold back your loud laugh as he sprayed his mouthful all over his front at your words. He tried to cough as silently as he could and shot you a death glare as you stood there with a satisfied grin on your face. 

“Am I on the naughty list yet?” 

His nostrils flared as he wiped crumbs and milk off his beard and coat before he stalked over towards you until he was in your face. 

“You should be more careful with what you wish for, girl,” he growled, yet instead of feeling threatened, you felt more than turned on. 

“Oh? What are you gonna do? Give me your big lump of coal?” you breathed, loving how big and tall he was. 

Santa blinked at you once, twice, then burst into laughter, which had you smiling broadly. 

“Gotta admit, this was a new one.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but something chimed close by, which had him checking his watch. “Fuck!”

Picking up two other cookies, he headed towards the fireplace and lifted a finger to his nose, sparks firing as he did so, but then he looked back at you. 

“Nicomund,” he said softly, which had your eyes widen at the revelation of his name.

He smiled and pressed his gloved finger against his nose. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

He was gone in a swish of golden sparks a second later. 

One year later

Dressed in a festive pair of pajamas, you yawed widely as you looked at the clock sitting in the midst of Christmas decorations on the mantelpiece. You stretched your arms over your head and shook your head to try fending the sleepiness off. 

You were back at your friends’ house and sitting on the same couch as last year. Last year, when you’d met the actual Santa Claus. You’d spent weeks doing research on the origins of Christmas, yet none of the results had been conclusive in any form. You’d guessed that people truly didn’t usually see him like he’d told you. After a while, you almost wanted to believe that the whole thing had only been a dream, coming from too much eggnog and sleep-deprivation. Except that he’d given you his name. Nicomund. You couldn’t have dreamed that up. The name had actually given you some vague results as you’d given it in. Nicomund the Red, a former viking warrior. Who was supposed to have lived over a thousand years ago. Considering what you’d witnessed, you didn’t even think it that farfetched that they could be one and the same person. The way he’d talked had clearly hinted at the fact that he’d been doing this for a very long time. He knew who you were. Even as a child. Yet, he didn’t look older than his late forties or early fifties. 

As much as you enjoyed loosing yourself in fantasies in books and so on, you considered yourself as a pragmatic person in real life. You liked facts and magic, while a fun concept, had never seemed like something real. And yet… After what you’d seen… 

That’s why you wanted to stay awake on Christmas Eve. Prove that you hadn’t actually dreamed everything up. And you might have also wanted to see him again, just because. It was ridiculous. You hadn’t been able to go on a date the whole past year, Nicomund popping up in your head at random times. The way you’d felt attracted to him had left you reeling. He’d been in full Santa gear, yet all you’d been able to see were his blue eyes, his large frame and drawling deep voice, the combination lighting your entire body up. 

Your eyes drifted to the clock again, watching the time slowly approach one in the morning. Resting your head against the couch, you closed your eyes and sighed. A very comfortable bed was waiting for you just down the hall, and your body wanted nothing more than to sink into it and sleep after the long day you’d had again. But what if you missed him? Your fingers curled around a folded up piece of paper resting on your lap. Just in case, you’d written him a note, requesting him to wake you up if you were to fall asleep. With your eyes still closed, you smirked to yourself at the few lines you’d written. Maybe you could tell him yourself later. You would open your eyes in a second. You were just resting them a bit. 

Weren’t you supposed to be asleep for Santa to show up? 

The next thing you heard was a loud and excited scream coming from close by, having you jerk awake in your bed… Bed? Sitting up quickly, you realized that you were lying in the guest bedroom. When had you moved there? The last thing you remembered was that you’d been sitting on the couch and fiddling with the note. The thought of the note had you looking all around yourself and the floor, yet there was nothing there. Quickly getting up and slipping into a pair of warm slippers, you almost ran to the living room to look for the note. The only thing you found was your godchild gushing about the presents sitting under the tree, your friends standing around him with broad smiles. 

“Merry Christmas,” they called at nearly the same time as they saw you walk in. 

Tearing your eyes away from the couch and the floor, you schooled your features into a bright smile and replied in kind, hugging the couple and then kneeling to do the same to their kid. You helped rip into the wrappings and forced yourself to focus on what was going on around you. 

As the day went on, you never found the note, but you were still absolutely certain that Nicomund had been the one to get you into bed. You might have been exhausted, but you would have remembered it if you’d gotten up to go to bed on your own. Disappointment shot through you at the realization that you wouldn’t get the chance to see him again until the next year. If at all.  

Later that same day, you had dinner with your family, which served to take your mind off things for several hours. It wasn’t until later that night and once you’d returned to your place well after midnight and gotten ready for bed, that you sighed dejectedly again. In your pajamas and leaning against the counter of the open kitchen that looked into the living room, you slowly sipped water from a glass when your fireplace made a sputtering noise. Frowning, you put the glass down behind you and walked into the living room, only to yelp in surprise when golden sparks appeared and formed into the shape of a man a few feet away from you. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, eyes wide and heart racing. 

Nicomund met your gaze and smirked at your gobsmacked expression. 

“Merry Christmas,” he rumbled. 

Your mouth moved silently as your eyes slowly took in his appearance. Gone were the red coat and hat, instead he was wearing a loose, off-white colored shirt and had his hair pulled up in a messy bun, showing off more of his handsome face. The V in the shirt’s neckline revealed the beginning of circular tattoos with what appeared to be runes. All the air rushed out of your lungs at the whole sight. He definitely wasn’t Santa right now, meaning that it really wasn’t the outfit that did it for you, since you were getting even more turned on than the previous year. 

“What are you doing here?” you croaked, your mind having a hard time realizing that he was standing in your living room. “Christmas is over.”

“It is, yeah… I thought you wanted to see me.” He put his bare hands into the pockets of his red pants and tilted his head at you. 

Your eyebrows lifted at that. “Why didn’t you wake me up then?” you muttered, pursing your lips slightly. 

“Not enough time,” he answered easily, eyeing you slowly.

“For what?” you breathed, swallowing at the way he was staring at you. The way he'd said it hinted at more than just him running behind schedule. 

“I got your note,” he said instead, and pulled the neatly folded paper out of one of his pockets, scanning it lazily after unfolding it. “You got real creative.” He lifted his gaze to yours briefly, the eye contact and implications of his words having heat rushing to your face. 

Biting over your bottom lip and taking strength in the knowledge that he came to find you once he’d been done with delivering presents, you grinned at him cheekily. 

“You said that I was never on your naughty list, so I figured that I could get a reward for having been such a good girl over the years.” 

You took a step closer to him, seeing him watching you attentively, expression unreadable. 

“And that’s what you had in mind?” His eyes went back to your note. “Dear Santa, I’ve been particularly good this year. Please let me play with your Christmas ornaments and suck on your candy cane. And while Santa Claus is coming to town, I’ll be sure to show how good I can go to town on Santa Claus. And please don’t forget to stuff my Christmas stockings with your big present. Hoe, hoe, hoe, Merry Christmas.”

Hearing him read the note out loud in that husky drawl had all the heat from your face rushing down your body. You couldn’t even feel the slightest bit of embarrassment at your silly wordplay, especially when you could see the corner of his mouth pulling up as he read, while his voice deepened by the end. His eyes lifted to yours once he was done, before he let them travel over your body. Slowly, taking all of you in, his blue eyes dark in the half light cast by the living room lamp. Your lips parted as soft pants left your mouth, your heart rate picking up at his intense perusal. 

“May I have my Christmas present now?” you breathed after taking a step closer and leaving you only a few inches away from him. 

He huffed out an amused laugh, but you didn’t miss the way he lightly leaned towards you, his large chest moving up and down faster. 

“Show me how good you can be,” he rumbled, as he let go of the note, which fluttered to the floor. 

As you reached for his face with one of your hands, you caught his surprised expression when your fingers gently ran along his bearded jaw and towards the back of his head to pull him towards your mouth. Considering the low sound he made as your lips met, he had nothing against kissing, he seemed more surprised by your gentle touch, that you wanted more than just something frenzied and fast. But you did want. Corny and over the top sexual Christmas wordplay aside, you really wanted the man. All of him. 

Slipping your tongue along his while slightly pulling at his hair, Nicomund growled and pushed into you, his hands moving into action as they travelled around your waist and down to your ass. His beard tickled deliciously around your mouth as he kissed you back fiercely. The first physical proof of his arousal pressed against you, making your breath catch at the size you could feel. Taking a step back away from him, you quickly found his eyes as you sunk to your knees before him. Nicomund’s breath came in short pants as his dark eyes watched you lifting your hands to the fastenings of his red pants. You took your time pulling the golden buttons from their respective holes, while you could see his erection straining the fabric just below. After you were done, you tugged the pants and underwear down enough to reveal his length. Unable to keep your eyes away, you finally looked at his gorgeous cock, proudly standing away from his body, the head red and shiny with pre-come. 

“As red as Rudolf’s nose,” you muttered lightly, almost to yourself, except that Nicomund heard every word. 

“Fuck, you’re terrible. Don’t make me change my mind,” he grumbled, sounding between amused and exasperated.

Slipping out of the top half of your pajamas to reveal your breasts, you glanced up at him with a smirk. 

“You really wanna stop, Daddy Christmas?” you teased, right before leaning forward to lick up a long stripe from the base to the top of his cock. 

His body went rigid at the touch, while he groaned. Suddenly, one of his hands was in your hair, the fingers sliding against your scalp and moving your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. A long moan slipped free from you at the treatment, which had Nicomund grinning in satisfaction. 

“You’re not really being a good girl right now, y’know. Bein’ a lil tease and all. Thought you wanted to show me how good you can be.” His voice was low and washed over you in a delicious wave, stoking your lust further. 

Nodding instead of replying verbally, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue peek out in invitation. Nicomund hummed, pleased, and guided you towards his cock. 

“There we go,” he rasped, as he slowly slid over your tongue, stretching your lips with his girth. 

Once he was as far as you could manage without gagging, he stopped moving. His hand remained in your hair, but he neither pushed nor pulled, waiting for you to decide what to do next. You kept him like this for as long as was comfortable before you slowly drew back and gently suckled over the head, while you wrapped your fingers around him. Nicomund groaned as you angled his cock up for you to tongue and suck under the head, teasing the sensitive nerves. You took your time sucking all over him, savoring the sounds you could get out of him, your body heating whenever he cursed under his breath when you did something he particularly enjoyed. 

Listening to his breaths picking up speed and feeling his hips jerking as he got closer to release, you were surprised when he gently removed you off him with the same hand as before. Lifting your head since you had expected – wanted – him to come in your mouth, you gazed at him in confusion. He reached for one of your arms and pulled you to your feet before he was kissing you hungrily. Which you didn’t mind in the slightest, as you folded your arms around his chest to answer in kind, your nipples hardening as they rubbed against the material of his shirt. 

“Wanna be inside you,” he admitted roughly, talking against your mouth. 

You keened in the back of your throat and nodded fervently. How could you not want that? 

“Yes,” you hissed, kissing him deeply. 

“Bed?” he rasped, and it took your brain a second to get your body to move. 

“Yeah, okay.” You took his hand and pulled him out of the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Inside the room, Nicomund drew you back to him for a quick kiss before he bent over to pull down your pajama pants and get them off you. You clutched at his shoulders as he divested you of the clothes. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he ordered, having your move instantly. 

You observed him through hooded eyes and pressed your legs together at the tingle of anticipation running through your core as you watched him undress. You would have loved to do it for him, but this gave you the opportunity to let your eyes feast on him as he revealed his tattooed body, the shirt falling to the floor. He was large and strong, but with a softness around his belly that had your fingers prickling with the desire to touch. His hair was a mess of curls, in and out of the hairband holding it back. You expected him to remove the rest of his clothes and stared into his face questioningly when he didn’t, only to realize that he was already watching you. Stepping towards you and making you spread your legs for him to stand between them, Nicomund towered over you as he gazed down at you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Thought you might want me to keep them on. So you don’t forget who exactly is fucking you.”

Your whole body heated with lust and embarrassment alike. You wanted to open your mouth to explain that you didn’t have a Santa kink, that you’d never thought of Santa in that way, but after the jokes you’d made, you couldn’t fault him for teasing you about it. Only, you didn’t care who he was. You’d have wanted him the same way had he been the Sandman, or just a normal man as well. And to be honest, having him almost fully clothed while you were naked was also turning you on. 

“Is it time for your big present, then?” You bit over your bottom lip as you stared up at him with a hopeful expression. 

Chuckling, Nicomund leaned down to your eye level. 

“Not yet,” he hedged, and knelt between your legs. “First I gotta get a taste of your…” He thought for a second. “Cookie.” 

Your eyes widened at the unexpected wordplay and what it meant. He didn’t give you the time to further react as he grabbed your hips to pull them halfway over the edge of the bed and sink between your legs. You barely had the time to catch yourself with your hands behind you on the bed at the first swipe of his tongue over your wet folds. Crying out at the hotness of his tongue combined with the soft scratching of his beard on your sensitive skin, you fought to keep your eyes open to watch him. Heat ran through you at the way he so clearly took pleasure in eating you out. He took his time doing it too, at first only giving you broad licks that didn’t hold that much strength and mostly served to wind you slowly up as his tongue became more precise. Your eyes fluttered, and you panted once he began using the tip of his tongue to run maddening circles around your exposed clit. As you were getting louder and louder the stronger the pressure of his tongue became, Nicomund suddenly stopped and, instead, focused his attention on your inner thighs, kissing and teasing his beard across your skin. Your legs quivered from the change of pace, and you wanted nothing more than to bring his head back to where it had been. He seemed content to keep torturing you, however, and you knew in that moment that you would be dealing with beard burn the next day. 

“Nicomund… please?” you breathed on a whimper, gazing down at him and catching his eye as he looked up at you without stopping his ministrations. 

Your expression seemed to trigger something in him because his mouth and tongue were back on your clit in the next second. You had to throw your head back at the explosive pleasure shooting through you as his lips surrounded that little bundle of nerves, and he sucked on it enthusiastically. You screamed in bliss and tangled your fingers in his hair, silently begging him to stay right there. From the way he growled, he had no intention of going anywhere anyway. He pressed his thumbs into your thighs, pushing your legs further open and pulling your folds apart as his mouth ripped more and more delirious sounds from you. As two of his fingers slowly sank into you and curled up to start fucking you, your whole body wrapped over his head, your orgasm hitting you with such intensity that your legs locked against Nicomund’s shoulders. 

While you were slowly coming back to yourself, Nicomund kissed his way up your mound, hip and belly, his soft touches making your body shake with more than just the aftershocks, your entire body feeling sensitized. When he reached your stomach, you cupped his head with your hands and leaned down to kiss him deeply. His beard was damp, while his lips still tasted like you, having a new shiver of desire going through you. Nicomund grunted into your mouth as he knelt up, curling one arm around your waist while the other held him up behind your back. Without ever breaking the kiss, he got to his feet and leaned over you until you were almost lying on the bed. You moved up the bed with his help, just enough for him to get his knees on the mattress and pull your legs over his thighs properly. Meanwhile, your hands took their time exploring his body, running all over his back and sides, reveling in his size and comforting weight on top of you. Your fingers encountered a few scares as they went, bringing the reminder of your research back to mind. Only fights and battles could explain the size and placements of some of them. And then there were the tattoos. Santa Claus was an ancient Viking warrior. The concept was absolutely wild, but you put the wayward thought to the side in favor of focusing on the whole man on top of you. 

Nicomund lifted his head a few inches and held himself over you to look into your face. He was breathing hard, sweat starting to form at his temples, his eyes traveling between your lips and eyes. You looked at him dazedly and smiled before lifting your head, keeping your eyes open, to press your mouth against his. You repeated the action a few more times, seeing his chest rise and fall faster each time. 

“Are you going to make me beg again?” you whispered, your lips grazing his. 

He chuckled and stroked a thick thumb over your jaw. 

“Please, Santa, pour your milk all over my-”

His mouth crashed into yours, effectively shutting you up, but unable to stop you from giggling. 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he growled, shifting on top of you. 

“But cookies always need – oh fuck!” 

This time, his method was more convincing, as he used your momentarily distraction while you teased him to line up with your entrance and push inside you in one long and powerful slide. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your head back as he had you crying out with each snap of his hips, his length making you feel as full as you’d wished for. Nicomund mouthed around your jawline, grunting into your skin as he thrust into you repeatedly. Leaning your head forward again, you drew his mouth in for an open-mouthed kiss, sucking and biting his bottom lip, trying to give back as much as you could in your position. It seemed to be enough for him, since he slammed into you harder, groaning as you moaned even louder while your inner walls pulsed around him. 

“Feel so good,” you moaned, your voice breathy and high-pitched, your legs curling over his thighs as extreme pleasure unfurled inside you again. 

“Fuck,” he gritted out roughly, staring down at you with burning eyes. “You gonna come for me again?” 

You nodded. “Please? Nicomund… Please!” 

You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of this man on top of you, making you feel needy like never before. With his large frame, glistening with sweat and strong arms holding him up at your sides as his hips drove you higher and higher, piercing blue eyes roving over your face. 

“Yeah, come on, go ahead. Been such a good girl for me. Such a good-”

His words cut off as you exploded around him at the praise, a long wail of ecstasy coming through your mouth, before you pulled his mouth back onto yours for a desperate kiss. After several more thrusts, Nicomund groaned as one of his hands shifted to your hair and formed a fist in it. He tugged at it to expose your jaw to breathe against it as he fucked in and out of you at a fast pace. Still overwhelmed by your second orgasm, you let him move you the way he needed and only linked your arms tightly around his shoulders, small, pleasured whimpers leaving you. When he came, his whole body shuddered over yours, his hips jerking repeatedly as he emptied himself inside you with a long groan. 

Neither of you moved as you simply rested for a few minutes, savoring the afterglow while you gently combed your fingers through his hair. 

“Mmh… this was definitely worth waiting a whole year for,” you mumbled sleepily, the long day catching up to you at last. 

Nicomund chuckled warmly and raised his head from where it had been resting against your shoulder.  You grinned up at him and stroked your fingers along his beard before letting them trail down his shoulders, your eyes following their path, as he moved further up. 

“Nicomund the Red,” you muttered quietly, swirling an index over a circular tattoo on his chest. They were all gorgeous and reached down to both of his arms. 

You felt him go still under your hands and met his stunned gaze. You smiled softly, keeping up your exploration. 

“I like research,” you explained with a small shrug. “Didn’t find much, really, but I couldn’t…” You looked away from his face. 

“Couldn’t what?” he asked in a quiet rumble. 

“You read the note, Nicomund… I didn’t start thinking about writing it only yesterday,” you hedged. 

This was as much as you wanted to reveal about how often you’d thought about him this past year. Sure, you’d been attracted to him from the get go and had fun with all the wordplay, but you’d also been genuinely intrigued by him. 

Nicomund didn’t say anything for a beat, but then shifted your bodies until he was slipping out of you and rolling you to your side to face him. 

He cleared his throat. “Well… I was kinda wondering if you’d be at your friends’ again.” 

You uttered a small, happy laugh at his admittance and closed your eyes. The feeling only lasted a moment as you realized that he wouldn’t be staying, however. Nicomund was still Santa Claus, for crying out loud. Your smile turned sad as you fully realized that this couldn’t go anywhere. Opening your eyes and staring at his chest, you kept tracing the tattoos quietly, thinking. 

“Will you come back next year?” you finally brought yourself to ask, your eyes still downcast. 

A warm palm stroked over your jaw and tilted your head up to meet warm blue eyes. 

“Only if you stay off the naughty list,” he said, going for humor to lift the suddenly heavier mood, but his smile was slightly off. 

You couldn’t help but snort anyway and gave him a small smile, the implications of his comment clear. You’d always been on the nice list, so surely…

“No promises,” you whispered, having him huffing out a small laugh this time, while his fingers ran along the back of your neck in a wonderfully soothing way. 

Your eyes slowly fell close, your fingers stopping their path on his skin as his touch lulled you to sleep. You were completely unable to fight it and soon, the last thing you felt were soft lips on your forehead. 

With no surprise, you were alone the next morning.

One week later. 

Two hours past the new year, after your friends had left, and you’d put the night’s dinner leftovers in the fridge, you sank onto the couch with a glass of eggnog. You stared at the liquid with bleary eyes, smiling to yourself as you thought of Nicomund. It was a bittersweet thought, but you tried to keep any sadness away whenever you thought of him. Still slightly tipsy, you berated yourself for missing the opportunity to make a bad joke with eggnog. Maybe you should write it in next Christmas’ note. You could already see him rolling his eyes at you and grinned. 

Taking a sip and leaning your head back over the couch, you let your mind drift to the moment when you’d been lying face to face, his hands in your hair. 

A whoosh of air suddenly went through the living room, having you gasp and sit upright again. Your mouth fell open at the now familiar golden sparks coming through the fireplace. A few seconds later, you were looking into Nicomund’s face. 

“Happy new year?” he rumbled tentatively. 

Standing and looking at your glass, you put it down on the coffee table and tilted your head at him. 

“I should really, really leave off the eggnog,” you said as you approached him. “I’m starting to see Santa at New Year.” 

“Maybe you’ll see me at Easter too,” he smirked, leaning towards you as you cupped his face to kiss him. 

#Nicomund x reader #violent night #santa x reader #reader insert #violent night fanfiction #david harbour #christmas smut #yes I'm aware it's August 🤣

[seungkw1]

one more drink — bsk

♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut (18+ mdni), strangers to lovers ♡ wc: 1.7k ♡ warnings: drinking, swearing, softdom!seungkwan, dry humping, oral (m. receiving), petnames (f. receiving - darling, baby, good girl, etc.)

You keep visiting your friend’s bar so you can watch his cute coworker from afar, but you never expected he’d end up taking you home one night.

“Last call, m’lady.”

You look up from your drink to roll your eyes at the bartender, who also happens to be your friend Jun. 

“You’re such a dork.”

“Not as big of a dork as my friend who keeps coming to this bar to drool over my coworker.”

You glance past him at the other bartender, who is drying glasses at the opposite end of the bar. The sleeves of his white button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his toned forearms. You look back to Jun.

“Oh hush, it’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Sure, sure. Of course not. Anyway, you want another drink or no?”

You throw back the remainder of the mojito that’s already in your hand. “Yeah, fuck it, why not.”

“Okay great well I gotta go do something in the back, so you can ask Seungkwan.”

Jun zooms through the double doors to the kitchen before you can even protest.

You sigh as you look back down at your glass. You begin mindlessly stirring the remaining ice with your straw.

You sit there for a few minutes, waiting for Jun to come back - but he apparently isn’t returning anytime soon. You look over to see what the second bartender is doing, but you accidentally catch his eye and he begins walking over to you. Shit. 

“Did you need another mojito?” he asks as he goes to grab a clean glass.

“Nonono,” you stop him. “I’m good, thanks.”

He gestures to you with the rum bottle, which is already in his hand. “You sure?”

You think about it for a second. The eye contact he’s making with you right now is very distracting. 

“Okay, sure I’ll have one.”

Seungkwan makes you your drink and sets it in front of you. You expect him to walk off, but he just takes a step back, his eyes still on you. You peek down to see you’re the last person sitting at the bar. 

“Oh my god sorry, I don’t mean to be that person. I’ll close out now.”

“No rush, you’re fine.” He remains standing there, looking at you.

Feeling a little nervous, you pick up your drink and take a sip. You raise your eyebrows in surprise - this is the best mojito you’ve had in a while.

“Damn, your drinks are way better than Jun’s,” you tell him. His lips turn into a grin - one that might seem a bit smug on anyone else, but you can tell he’s genuinely pleased that you complimented him. 

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You go to take another sip but pause. “Actually, do tell him I said that. He’s been a little too confident lately.” He lets out an honest laugh, the sound musical. His perfect teeth flash with his smile. 

You’ve never really interacted with Seungkwan for longer than a few seconds - you’re used to simply enjoying how good-looking he is from afar. You thought you had caught him watching you the last few times you’ve been here (your attendance has increased in frequency lately), but you chalked it all up to your imagination. Now you have your doubts.

Since Jun has apparently vanished into thin air, you two start to chat - mostly small talk, really, but your extra mojito is definitely making you a little flirtier than normal. You giggle through your conversation as he finishes up his bar tasks, and he seems to be enjoying the conversation too - he’s always had a very friendly demeanor, but you’ve never seen the man laugh and smile this much.

You’re not paying attention, so you don’t realize the whole bar has fully closed until you see the manager glaring at you from across the room, telepathically trying to make you leave. 

“Well, I think I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome,” you say to Seungkwan with a pout as you get up and start to put on your jacket.

He leans on the bar toward you, his face closer to yours than ever. God, he is so beautiful.  

“Let me drive you home,” he insists. Normally you would decline, but you’re a little bit drunk and Seungkwan is incredibly hot.

“My home or yours?” you say teasingly.

“Mine, if you’d like.”

You freeze. You never actually expected him to say that. His round eyes gaze at you, his mind clearly in the same place as yours. You can’t help but grin back at him.

—

You barely make it through Seungkwan’s front door before he pulls your body into his, his strong hand on the back of your neck as he kisses you. You make your way to his couch, pushing him down onto it and immediately straddling his lap, pressing your lips back onto his. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth and his into yours, fervently making out with him as he runs his hands up your back. Time is lost as he kisses you, soft moans from both of you as you feel his pants grow tighter under you. Eventually he can’t wait any longer - he slides his large hands under your shirt, taking it off of you and tossing it away. He pulls you in, giving you a kiss on your chest as he squeezes your tits through your bra.

“Stand up,” he speaks suddenly. You obey - he undoes the button of your pants with one hand, the other palming his bulge through his pants.

“Finish that for me, darling.”

You follow his order, taking off your pants and casting them aside as he watches you while undoing his belt. His pants unzipped to reveal the hardness in his underwear, he grabs your hips and pulls you back onto his lap. You moan as your core presses onto his cock through your already-soaked panties. Making out with him again, you can’t help but start to rock your hips back and forth, the friction against your clit sending you waves of pleasure. Your mouth keeps separating from his as you’re taken away in bliss, which you keep noticing and go back to kissing him, slowing your rhythmic pace of grinding against him. But he doesn’t let that go on for long - he pulls his head back and grasps onto your jaw softly, staring into your eyes lustfully. 

“Don’t stop.”

You begin to move your hips again. He groans as he resumes kissing you. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he mumbles, his lips barely leaving yours. 

If your underwear weren’t completely saturated before, they definitely are now.

You pick up the pace. The hand on your jaw goes to your ass as he grabs you with both hands, controlling your tempo. The faster you go, the harder he grasps onto you. The outside of his underwear are now damp where you have been pressing your pussy against him, pleasuring yourself against his hard cock. 

“I wanna watch you make yourself cum like this,” he says, his voice low and raspy. You start to grind harder but he forces your hips to a stop.

“But - not until I say so. Okay?”

You nod your head at him.

“Words, baby. When can you cum?”

“When you say so,” you whine at him. 

“That’s a good girl.” The words send a shiver up your spine as your hot core throbs. He gazes at you, practically licking his lips, watching you unravel before him.

You resume, his hands pacing you - every time you try to go faster, you’re met with resistance. But he slowly lets you rub your clit harder against him. Your whimpers turn into moans, getting louder and more intense the closer you get. 

“Do you want to cum, baby?”

“Yes,” you cry, tears welling in your eyes. Every single nerve in your body is on fire. You won’t be able to hold it in much longer.

“Okay, cum for me.”

The release rushes over your body instantly. The sensation is overwhelming - you cry out as you ride out your orgasm, your body shaking into his. As you come down from your high, Seungkwan grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting your head up to look into his dark eyes. 

“Such a pretty girl.” His large hand rests on the side of your face. “So pretty cumming for me.” Your core pulsates against his heavy bulge. 

You rest against him for a few seconds (minutes? hours?), your head nuzzled into his neck. Once you’ve recovered slightly, you sit up, planting another kiss on his lips before sliding down your knees.

“Your turn.”

Pulling the band of his underwear down, you take his cock in your hand, licking the precum off the tip before dragging your tongue up and down his length. He hums as you wet his cock, letting out a groan when you finally take him into your mouth. He places his hand on your head, pushing you down onto him, his length sliding down your throat. Your head starts to move up and down, tears running out of your eyes as you choke on him. Just like before, as you start to go faster his grip becomes stronger, this time against your hair. 

“Taking me so well,” he moans. “Gonna make me cum in your mouth.”

You swallow him all the way to his base, his cock drenched in your spit. It only takes a few more pumps before his groans grow louder. You begin to moan against his length, and the vibrations send him over the edge. He holds your head down as he cums, his hips gently thrusting, white ropes hitting the back of your throat. His body relaxes into the couch as his hand loosens its grip on your head. You slowly take his cock out of your mouth, being sure to swallow every last drop of his cum. 

He pulls you back onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your torso, drawing you into him so he can kiss your neck. 

“So, are you gonna keep visiting me at work?” he asks you between kisses.

“Only if you keep taking me home,” you quip as you stroke his hair.

You feel his lips smile against your skin. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

[end]

#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•. #boo seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan smut #seungkwan imagines #seungkwan scenarios #seungkwan fics #svt fics #svt smut #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fics #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

[matchamilkislover]

White Horse, 2. (a.a.)

pairing: knight!abby x princess!reader

cw: fantasy!au, fem!reader, a tiny bit of blood mentioned, eventual displays of fighting and violence bc it’s fantasy, kind of slow burn?, tension, reader has an attitude, tall af!abby bc size difference, royalty!au, mentions of arranged marriages, some mentions of au politics, abby in armor is a warning in itself

synopsis: you are the youngest princess of the royal family that rules over your kingdom, Aphrynia. now a young adult, you’ve come of age in a tense time, and your personal protection is of utmost importance — which is why the resignation of your previous personal knight means a rushed reassignment ceremony with little to no preface. That being said, why does the name of your new knight sound so familiar?

word count: 3.67k

a/n: this is a kinda slow and really dialogue-heavy chapter but i’m still giggling and kicking my feet, i am so excited for the rest of the story omllll (it’s my own story i have to write it myself but i’m also delulu)

you can read part 1 here!

⊹ ⋆｡˚ ————————— 𓆩♡𓆪 —————————⊹ ⋆｡˚

Clapping resounded in the large room, but you paid the sound no attention. Yours and Abby’s gazes were still locked on each other, like you were caught in a dance to see who would break away first. Finally, she gently kissed the top of your hand and released it, standing to tower over you with her tall, built form. The simple kiss on your hand made your heart speed up unexplainably, and you swallowed and quickly pulled it down to your side, burying your hands in the skirts of your gown. Abby’s gaze, however, was still locked on you, and you looked down and then around the room to avoid her gaze. What in the world was going on?

Realizing that everyone else in the room had moved on from the ceremony and started milling about, you too decided that it was time to go, clearing your throat before stepping out of place to find Nina. Abby opened her mouth and looked like she was about to reach out and say something to you, but was interrupted by members of the court starting to swarm and try to steal her attention. Thank god, you thought to yourself, dashing away before court members could swarm you, too.

A hand suddenly fell on your shoulder as your eyes searched the room for your lady’s maid, and you cursed in your head, turning to see which Lord or Lady (or worse, daughter or son) had gotten their claws into you. You would’ve breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that it was one of your own siblings if it wasn’t George.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’d just seen a ghost, little sister,” he teased, that shit-eating grin of his spreading across his face. You just rolled your eyes and turned to face him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, George,” you lied, brushing his hand off your shoulder and crossing your arms. He laughed.

“Oh sure. She’s the one you always attended lessons with, right? Yeah, she was fun,” he replied casually.

“If by fun you mean insufferable, then sure,” you retorted. “Please, you only liked her because she supported your shenanigans.”

He lifted his hands humorously. “Hey, you got me there. It’s nice to feel appreciated once in a while.” You sighed and started visually searching the room again, hangover still leaving you in a mood not quite fit for George’s lovely personality.

“I’m sure it is. But you’re a big boy, so if you could entertain yourself so I can get away from this lovely conversation, that would be great,” you finally huffed and quickly strode away, back on the hunt for Nina. Finding her meant finding breakfast and a nice rant session. And, you thought as your head throbbed again, a lot of water.

“There you are!” A familiar voice squealed as you moved about the cavernous room. You instantly smiled.

“Oh, Nora, thank goodness,” you squealed back as your eyes landed on your friend approaching just from your left. The two of you met with joining hands, squeezing comfortably.

“Are you alright? You looked entirely shocked to see Knight Anderson up there,” Nora inquired, her brows furrowing in concern. You sighed for what felt like the millionth time on this already exhausting day.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t really expect to see her, that’s all,” you replied, trying your best to brush off the way your heart pounded in your chest. You really wished it would stop that. Nora suppressed a knowing smile.

“She’s certainly changed a lot, hasn’t she,” Nora noted with waggling eyebrows.

“Nora,” you gasped, fighting the urge to smile with her. “You know good and well my opinion of her, so you can stop that now!” Though it felt genuine to you, your retort was unconvincing, and Nora simply rolled her eyes.

“Are you seriously still hung up on that? It’s been what, 8 years?”

“9,” you interrupted. “It’s been 9.” Nora rolled her eyes again.

“Close enough. If you want to hold a grudge, that’s fine by me, but I am going to enjoy this while I can,” she teased, sauntering away as you gasped again and feigned reaching out to hit her playfully as she walked away.

Finally, you spotted Nina waiting patiently for you near the edge of the room and let out a breath of relief. You approached her quickly, and her face lit up as you neared, feeling much less awkward when she was with you rather than being alone as a lady’s maid without her princess. You easily hooked your elbow with hers as you took a spot next to her, desperate to seem too occupied to socialize with anyone else.

“Can we please get out of here?” You begged through the clenched teeth of your plastered smile, nodding gracefully to people who passed you like nothing was wrong. Nina almost giggled.

“Yes of course, princess,” she replied, the two of you stepping forward and turning to the door.

“Why does everyone keep giggling at me?” You questioned, again through clenched teeth.

“Excuse me for my bluntness, but your reaction to Knight Anderson was quite entertaining,” she replied, still suppressing giggles.

“My reaction? What reaction?! I was under the impression my face was quite neutral, thank you!” You replied in a way that was almost offended.

“You just seemed quite surprised to see her, is all,” Nina explained gently. “I highly doubt someone who doesn’t know you well would have noticed, princess,” she reassured as the pair of you finally approached the large doors that would lead you out of this blasted throne room.

“It’s not my fault no one told me she of all people would be my new knight! You would be caught off-guard too if you were me!” You retorted, trying to keep your voice to a whisper despite your urge to raise it.

“All I’m saying, princess, is that-” Nina’s reply was cut off by a voice ringing out over the chatter of the crowd to you.

–

In terms of the aftermath of the ceremony for Abby, it was certainly a wave of attention — attention she didn’t want even one bit, especially when the only person she really wanted to talk to was you. Judging by your reaction, you certainly hadn’t been expecting to see her. Hell, she hadn’t been expecting to see you either until maybe 10 days ago. But it seemed like no one had bothered to inform you that she would be your new knight.

“Knight Anderson?” a voice asked, bringing Abby out of her thoughts and back to the many people surrounding her in the throne room.

“Hmm?” She replied, clearly having zoned out and not heard whatever the woman had said. She was quite a sight to take in, with gaudy clothing and a tight, pointed face. The woman smiled, but it looked more like a sneer.

“Oh, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lady Ulfrid, I’m new here as well. I was just wondering, Queen Arabella spoke quite highly of your accomplishments, and it must be so for you to be a personal knight for her youngest daughter. What might these so-called accomplishments be, I might ask?” Lady Ulfried sneer-smiled again, and this time, Abby couldn’t help but feel like Abby saw the expressions just as they were. She was questioning her.

Raising an eyebrow, Abby let a smirk dance on the corners of her mouth and adjusted her stance. “Well, I was top of my class in training, but that’s not the answer you’re looking for, is it? So what would you like to hear about? The battles I led in our recent land conflicts with Chryiont? Or the ones I led 2 years ago in Dungard? Or was it my successful takedown of the great Pirate Duke? You’ll need to be more specific, my lady,” Abby replied with a knowing smile, satisfied by the woman’s widening eyes.

“Oh, well, I- I just meant, um-, well,” Lady Ulfrid floundered, and it satisfied something a little sadistic within Abby. She was tired of being questioned because of her age, much less her gender, and it felt nice to make people who questioned her then question themselves instead.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, cutting off the woman and leaning down to her height. “I think I know exactly what you mean.” She smirked, and stood back to full height as Lady Ulfrid’s face reddened and she sped away from the knight, muttering something incoherent under her breath.

Turning to scan the rest of the room with her hands clasped behind her back, Abby suddenly realized that talking to Lady Ulfrid had made her lose sight of you. Last she saw, you were talking with one of your court friends — Nora, was it? — and now you had completely disappeared. Something about this felt oddly familiar. Right as she thought she caught a flash of your dress — god, that dress made you look something unearthly — another person tapped on her arm, and she nearly groaned before turning and seeing who it was.

“Long time no see, huh Anderson?” George asked with a sheepish grin, pulling her in for a one-handed hug. Abby grinned back and returned the hug gladly.

“Too long,” she replied easily. “But you know, I don’t think I can condone your shenanigans now,” she continued teasingly. George laughed with a wide, open mouth, patting Abby on the arm.

“Yeah, well, I’ll just have to figure out a way around you,” he replied jokingly.

Abby chuckled and shook her head. Suddenly remembering that she had been looking for you, she snapped to attention, scanning the room quickly. Finally, she spotted you nearing the exit with your lady’s maid, and she patted George on the arm as a farewell before starting after you.

“Princess!” She called, nearly jogging across the room and swiping between different huddles of people. “Princess!”

—

Your smile dropped when you heard Abby calling after you. Shit. While you stood there trying to accept that Abby Anderson would be constantly on your heel from now on, Abby caught up, slowing to stop and face you. You looked at her, expecting her to say something, but she just stared back.

And you both kept staring.

Looking at her felt like seeing a dear old friend and someone entirely foreign to you all at the same time. Like two winds hitting you from opposite directions, pushing the breath out of your lungs and filling them back up all in one motion. She was so different but so familiar, it made you want to both run away and never leave her presence all at once. You didn’t even realize you were staring, studying her like art in a museum, until Nina loudly cleared her throat beside you.

Whoops.

You came to a start and also cleared your throat awkwardly, nodding to Abby as a delayed greeting as you shared an uncomfortable look with Nina. “Well, uh…I, we…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You remarked awkwardly. This was already going terribly.

“It has,” Abby confirmed with a nod. You pursed your lips.

“Well, uh, I suppose we should get going, shouldn’t we, princess?” Nina asked timidly, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, yes, of course,” you replied quickly, nodding and turning with Nina to return on course to your chambers.

You grimaced uncomfortably in Nina’s direction, and she returned the look apologetically. Abby looked like she had wanted to say something else, but instead bit her tongue and followed the two of you silently. The walk through the corridors was painfully quiet, you unconsciously straining to listen to the sound of Abby’s footsteps behind your own, hyper aware of her proximity to you. For someone who called her despicable the last time you had seen each other, you were certainly strangely invested in even the smallest movements of Abby Anderson.

Once you and Nina were safely inside your chambers, with Abby standing in place just outside your door, you flopped into a chair, rubbing your forehead. “This day has got to be some twisted sort of dream,” you moaned, slipping off your shoes one at a time. Nina simply suppressed a giggle and shushed you.

“These walls are not as thick as you wish them to be,” she reminded you in a hushed voice, perching in a chair adjacent to yours while she awaited your breakfast request. You pouted and sighed.

“I truly don’t understand why nobody told me she would be my new knight! I mean, she disappeared the day after we had our millionth argument 9 years ago, and now, out of the blue, she’s going to be right behind me 24/7? Guarding me? Protecting me like someone’s out for my blood? It’s just…fucking insane!” You whisper-yell, frustration bubbling over now that it was just you and Nina. Well, and Abby, waiting just outside the door.

Nina sighed, knowing that she should try to make you feel better, even though she couldn’t help but agree with how you felt. “The queen does what she does for a reason, I’m sure. With you being young and the whispers I hear from the other servants, I’m not surprised she wants a trusted eye on you,” she replies in a quiet voice. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, nodding.

“I know, I know. It’s just frustrating that not a single soul ever bothers to tell me anything. I mean, I would have really liked a warning that the girl I basically grew up with was not only returning to the palace as a knight, but my personal knight, and, to make matters worse, she looks like—” you gesture wildly to the door, “—that! How am I supposed to deal with that!?” you exclaim, your whisper lifting a little. Nina starts giggling uncontrollably, and after a minute you join her, if only because of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“I think,” Nina says, taking a deep breath once her giggles finally subside, “that some breakfast and a lot of water might help make you feel better, hmm? Maybe a tonic from Dr. Anderson?” Nina offers kindly.

“Yes, please, you’re a saint, Nina,” you reply, rubbing your forehead again as the throbbing pushes forward. “But, no tonic, actually, please—I can’t handle being embarrassed by asking Abby’s father for a hangover cure the first day she returns, I think I might keel over from sheer embarrassment,” you finish with a groan. Nina chuckles and nods, standing from her perch.

“Whatever you say, princess,” she says with a pat on your shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.” With that, she pushes the door open and exits the room, mumbling an awkward greeting to Abby that makes you cringe from sheer discomfort.

Sighing, you look around at the chaos that is your room after this morning’s rushed preparation activities, and decide that the least you can do even with this raging hangover is make your bed. You stand determinedly and approach the bed, pulling back layer after layer neatly to then arrange each one on top of the last. It’s a bit awkward with the shuffling of your dramatic skirt around the edge of the opulent bed frame, but you manage to make it work.

You’re tucking in the last corner of your many blankets when an unfamiliar knock on the door catches you off guard, and you get stuck pulling your hand out from beneath the mattress. You pull harder and harder, gritting your teeth and kicking yourself mentally for the ridiculousness of it all. Stupid fucking mattress, you groan mentally as you pull, why is this thing so goddamn heavy!? With one exceptionally strong pull, your hand rips free from its feather-filled prison, only for the momentum to send you falling backwards into a heavy sofa behind you, the collision making a crashing sound that mixes oh so wonderfully with the surprised shriek that leaves your mouth. You catch yourself just barely on an arm of the sofa, but have no time to process what just happened when Abby comes barging into the room, eyes wide as she searches for you.

Just perfect.

You both stare at each other like deer in headlights when your eyes meet, unsure of what to do. It’s Abby who breaks the silence first.

“Are you alright, princess?” She asks in a concerned tone, walking over to you gingerly. Her large form seems almost unnatural in your space, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the proportions.

“Um, yes, I’m fine, I just…fell,” you explain awkwardly, cheeks going pink. You stand straight and pull your hand off the sofa arm, hissing quietly when the friction stings on your pointer finger. Looking down to inspect it, you notice a long splinter shoved inside of the skin and grimace.

“You just fell?” Abby asks quizzically, raising an eyebrow as she eyes the splinter.

“Well, I, um— I got my hand stuck, and when I pulled it out, I guess I pulled too hard and just…fell…” Your voice trails off as you look from her to the bed and back to your hand, touching the splinter gingerly and hissing again.

Abby nods, humming in understanding. “I see…do you need help, um, with that?” She asked, gesturing to the splinter.

“Oh no, I’ve—I’ve got it,” you reply casually, trying to hide the clenching of your jaw when you gently pull on the slice of wood. Abby opens her mouth to ask if she can help again, but you're already setting your jaw and pulling the splinter firmly, gasping at the more intense stinging when it slips out of your skin. A large bead of blood immediately forms on the spot, hinting to a stream, and your face pales at the sight as you bite your lip and look away, eyes searching for a handkerchief.

Your breath quickens in panic as you search, just the thought of the blood now seeping out of your finger making your breath quicken and your heartbeat skyrocket. A warm hand on yours and the feeling of a handkerchief being dabbed on your finger pulls you out of your growing panic, and you look to see Abby ever so gently holding your hand in one of your own while the other dabs the blood from your finger with a handkerchief.

“I remember one time when we were 9, you fell and scraped your knee on the stone while we were running in the garden, and you were very nearly screaming,” Abby said suddenly as she looked at your finger. “I guess I was right to assume that fear hadn’t changed much,” she continued, chuckling. A breathy chuckle left your mouth in return, gaze still focused on her hands touching your own.

“I never did have the stomach for it, did I?” You responded quietly, a gentle smile dancing on your lips. “I guess some things never change.”

“Yes,” Abby agreed, “some things never really change, do they?” She spoke in nearly a whisper, eyes finally glancing up to meet yours. Your breath caught in your throat, heartbeat slowing as you gazed into the stormy blue of her eyes.

“I guess not,” you whispered.

The sudden rapt knocking of Nina’s small fist and her pushing the door into your room ripped both of you out of the trance you had been in, you grabbing the handkerchief and holding it to your finger while Abby’s hands dropped yours and she stood at attention. Her mouth opened like she was about to announce her arrival before she spotted the two of you standing unusually close, and her movement stopped, brows immediately furrowing in confusion.

“I— We—“ you started.

“She fell!” Abby nearly shouted, her expression unsure. “She fell and I heard the commotion, so I came in, and she, um, got a splinter,” she finished, gesturing toward your hand. You raised your handkerchief covered finger as proof, and Nina nodded slowly. You weren’t quite sure why you felt like you had been caught doing something wrong, but it certainly did, and you certainly weren’t sure how to feel about it.

Abby cleared her throat, and nodded to the still open door. “Well, um, I should…yeah,” she stuttered, nodding a goodbye to both of you before returning to her post outside of the door that she closed behind herself.

As soon as the latch clicked, Nina’s eyes were on you like a hawk, and you were retreating back to where you had been sitting with your face in your hands. “Did I seriously just see that?” She asked incredulously, bringing a tray of food over with her and setting it on a small table. You nodded, face still in your hands, but you were quickly coaxed out by the smell of the food.

“I was just trying to make my stupid bed, and my stupid hand got stuck under the stupid mattress, and I fell pulling it out and got a splinter on my finger, and then it started bleeding when I pulled it out, and…yeah. That’s about it,” you poured the words out quickly, immediately feasting and downing large gulps of water when you finished. Nina simply nodded knowingly and watched, nibbling on a piece of toast as you ate.

“Y’know, that didn’t seem very despicable to me,” she remarked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, a mischievous grin growing on her face.

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, turning an annoyed glance at her. “Are you going to keep being like this? It was just an awkward situation,” you complained, shoving another piece of fruit in your mouth. Nina laughed and nodded.

“I’m sorry, princess, but it’s been just too easy,” she retorted, still laughing. You rolled your eyes, but inside, your heart still skipped a beat every once in a while, thinking about her calloused, warm hands encapsulating yours, and her deep eyes gazing into yours like nothing else existed in the world.

You seriously needed to distract yourself if you were going to survive this.

⊹ ⋆｡˚ ————————— 𓆩♡𓆪 —————————⊹ ⋆｡˚

taglist: @paqerings @katniiss @dummysimp011 @chocbaleine

#white horse #knight!abby x princess!reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby is so calling you princess coded #knight x princess #wlw #abby x reader fic #abby anderson fic #abby x reader #matchamilkislover

[seeingivy]

soccer players 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

in which your sneaky link/situationship satoru gojo realizes he likes you more than he thought during your soccer championships 

- 

“I think we should keep it a secret. Just a little longer. I like keeping what we for us.” he whispers. 

You deflate, hiding your face deeper into his chest so he can’t see your dejection. Satoru Gojo is hilarious, brilliant, and beautiful - the best guy you’ve talked to by far. You use the word “talked” loosely. You and Satoru didn’t do much talking while you were together. After accidentally swiping yes on Hinge while you were drunk, you and Satoru had established what many would term friends with benefits? A situationship? Dating? 

He was good in bed. And at making breakfast the morning after. And watering your plants, picking up your medicine from the pharmacy, buying you flowers while running errands. And at giving you a massage after soccer practice, taking showers with you, buying you hot chocolate after your exams. Sometimes you’d see him around campus, his hand slung around a girl you didn’t know and you tried your hardest to ignore the burning in your chest whenever he didn’t give you a second look. But lately, you thought lines were blurring. He just met your family last week, hugged you outside your class, and promised to come to your soccer game. He was confusing, to say the least. 

Either way, you were falling, hard. You hum in agreement, promising to keep it a secret - both your relationship and your true feelings for him. You ignore the fluttering in your chest when he presses a kiss to the top of your head before drifting asleep. 

- 

You leave Satoru asleep in your bed, swinging your cleats over your shoulder to head to your soccer field. You scribble him a note, mentioning that the big game was today and that’s why you had to leave early. He gets whiny when you didn’t leave him cuddle time in the morning. 

Kyoto played dirty. It made you nervous. You had to get there early, practice drilling hours before to make sure you were warmed up for the game. Last year, you were benched due to a hip injury from one of the regular season games. This time, you were ready to play. 

You watch the sun rise against the bleachers, marking around two hours till the game starts. You see a few of the players trickling onto the field, joining you to warm-up for the game. Maki smacks you across the back of the head, before starting drills with you. 

Maki’s girlfriend Nobara takes her seat in the front of the stands, two streaks of blue swiped against her cheek. You think of Satoru, fast asleep in your bed and feel your heart twinge. You wish he was here, cheering you on, cheesy face paint smeared across his face. 

You brush away the thought, willing away your nerves for the game.  

- 

You and Maki stalk off to the locker rooms, trying to clean out before the game starts. 

“Nobara won’t stop complaining. She’s seated by some idiots apparently.” 

“Nobara thinks everyone is an idiot - you included. But I bet it’s that dude from Kyoto, from last year. You know, the big bulky guy who keeps saying his type in women was women with big asses.” 

“Bloody idiot, I forgot about him. But no, she said it was some guy with white hair and black sunglasses. He’s here with that girl Hana, the one from Nobara’s business class.” 

You pause, your hand clenched hard into your locker. White hair and black sunglasses. You sincerely hope that the idiot Maki is talking about isn’t your idiot with white hair and black sunglasses. Well, he isn’t really yours to claim but that’s just semantics. 

You walk out onto the field, beelining towards the stands with Maki. Maki moves to greet Nobara, pressing a kiss to her cheek. You give her a knowing look, ready to start teasing her. Before you can even get a word out, she pushes you straight off the bleachers and you fall back, against someone. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. My friend just pushed me off. I didn't mean to hit you.” 

You look up and holy shit, this guy is hot. He has long black hair, secured in a small man bun at the back of his hair. He’s holding you by the edges of your elbows, having caught you before you fell off the stands all together. 

“No problem. I’m glad she did.” 

You feel your eyes widen and Maki and Kugisaki, their nosy asses, leaning over your shoulder to hear your conversation. 

“Suguru. Suguru Geto. Are you playing today?” 

“Yeah. She’s the captain of the Jujutsu team. And she’s only a junior.” 

“And she’s single.” 

You elbow the two of them, warding them off. You turn back to Suguru, giving him a sheepish smile. 

“Only a junior? That’s impressive. Play good and I’ll give you something.” 

“Like what?” 

He takes out a sticky note, with scribbling five numbers on it. You take it in between your fingers, giving him a confused look. 

“The rest of my phone number.” 

You look up at him, giving him a gleaming smile. He’s hitting on you. And he’s not half bad to look at either. You feel someone come up behind you, snatching the little sheet between the tips of your fingers. 

“The game’s starting. Get on the field, L/N.” 

You look up to find Satoru staring down at you, an annoyed look plastered on his face. So he was that idiot Nobara was mentioning. You can’t decide if you should be flattered he came to your game or mad that he brought another girl. You reach for the sheet, but Satoru holds it over the top of his head, shaking his head at you. 

“No. Go play your game, pretty girl. You can have it back after.” 

Pretty girl? First he says he doesn’t want to tell people you’re seeing each other but then he goes around getting jealous when you talk to another guy? He stalks off to the stands, sitting back next to Hana, who was too engrossed in her phone to even be paying attention. You see him crumple the sheet of paper into his pocket and curse him for being so possessive in the first place. 

“Good luck with the game. Sorry for pissing your boyfriend off right before you start” 

“Thank you. And he’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Good. Find me after. I’ll give you all ten digits at once.” 

You shoot him a smile, before running off to start on the field. 

-  

One minute before half-time, the ball gets kicked into Maki’s face, her nose spilling red all over the field. At the end of the minute, you can see Nobara run onto the field, the two of you dragging her on to the bench. 

The other team mills around, taking breaks as the people in the stands get up to talk to the players or grab snacks at the concession stand two feet away from you. 

You grab the ice, Nobara tending to Maki as she groans in pain on the bench. You try to ignore the worry rising as Nobara holds her nose - there’s no way she can play now but can you really win without her? 

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn to find Satoru looking down at you, his eyes filled with worry. 

“What?” you whisper, slightly annoyed from earlier. 

“Would you keep playing even if I asked you not to?” 

“What? Why can’t I play?” 

“I didn’t realize you play against literal body slammers. They just broke your friend's nose.” 

“All the more reason to play. I have to win so it’s not for nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. You look over his shoulder, Nobara standing to the side so the medic could assess the damage on Maki’s face. You feel him moving closer to you, his hand moving for yours. At that second, Hana comes up, two drinks in her hand and a hot dog. He puts space between the two of you, his eyes still boring into yours. 

“Here’s your drink and the food you asked for, hun.” 

“I got you one, too. A drink, I mean. ” 

You turn your back to find Suguru with a lime green Gatorade in his hand. Before you can talk, the whistle blows, signaling the end of halftime. Surugu and Hana stalk off the field, returning to the bleachers. Satoru stays behind. 

“Your secret admirer doesn’t even know the Gatorade flavor you like.” 

“And your little girlfriend thinks you like ketchup, hun.” 

“Oh, come on. Jealous? You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Says the guy who literally snatched Suguru’s phone number out of my hands.” “Suguru, huh? Gonna give him the big victory kiss?” 

“Probably. Bet he’d actually kiss me in public, you know.”

“Breaking my heart, pretty girl. I’m going to go cry in the stands now. Win the game in one piece, please.” he says, shooting you a grin before returning to the stands in his seat next to Hana. Asshole. 

-   

You’re awoken by the sound of ringing in your ears, muffled shouting nearby. You can feel the prickly turf against the side of your arms, your sense of surroundings totally impaired. 

“She’s my girlfriend! You have to let me through.” 

“There’s no way.” 

Satoru? You flutter your eyes open, to find yourself surrounded by a circle of people. You recognize Maki, a gnarly bandage covering the length of her nose, Nobara, your team members, and the medics from earlier surrounding you. 

“Oh thank god, she’s awake.” 

You turn your head around the circle looking for the voice you heard. You could have sworn it was Satoru. You try to sit up to look for him, the pounding in your head sending you back towards the ground. Before you can hit the turf, you feel someone catch you, holding you steady. 

“I asked you to win in one piece, Y/N.” he complains, his hands holding you up in place. You wince as he props you up, the blood rushing to your head all at once. 

“We won?” 

He smiles brightly, taking your face into his hands. 

“Yes, pretty girl. You won.” 

You clamp your hand against his mouth, shutting him up. 

“Shh. People can hear you.” 

You move to scoot away from him, the circle of people still surrounding the two of you on the ground. He tightens his grip on your hands, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips. He breaks apart, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Let them.” 

Satoru nods at the circle around him, getting up to let the medics do their work. You can feel their hands running a bandage across the side of your forehead. Satoru stays close by, his hand tangled in his hair as he asks the medics how often you should take medication, if you need stitches, if it’s a concussion. 

You feel Maki crouch on the ground next to you, her eyes squinting when they meet yours.

“You good?” 

You nod, giving her a weak smile. She kicks you in the shin, glaring daggers at you.

“You had a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me.” 

“I didn’t tell anyone. And he’s not my boyfriend. Well maybe he is? We didn’t really talk about that yet.” 

Nobara crouches down, handing you an ice cold bottle of water. The medics around you walk away after finishing up your bandages, joining the group talking with Satoru and the coach. 

“Knew that son of a bitch was lying. He ran onto the field after you went down, begging them to let him through because you were his girlfriend.” 

“In front of other people? He's kind of embarrassed of me or something. We’ve been seeing each other for a while but he never really wanted to tell anyone.” 

“Don’t know. He seemed really worried, like full on sweating buckets when you wouldn’t wake up. I bet he’s just that confused idiotic guy type.” 

You nod at her, the two of them helping you onto your feet. The second you stand up, you feel Satoru’s hand sliding across your waist and his other hand guiding your free arm around his shoulder.

“Slow down. You can still faint, you know.” 

You wave Nobara and Maki goodbye, Satoru not letting go of you as he guides you out of the stadium. 

“Girlfriend, huh? That’s news to me.” 

“Shut up. Wait here while I bring the car around. We can order Chinese at home.” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of your cheek, before running off to his car. 

Home. He’s coming home with you. He called you his girlfriend, kissed you on the field, and he’s coming home with you.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and find Suguru sliding on the bench next to you, a little slip with his phone number scribbled on it as promised. 

“Oh. Wait, Suguru I-” 

You’re cut off by the car directly in front of you honking twice, a very annoyed Satoru sitting in the front seat. He rolls the window down, glaring at the two of you on the bench. 

“Stop cheating on me! We just started dating like twenty minutes ago.” 

He leaves the car in park, stalking out of the car to help you in. Suguru awkwardly stalks away, apologizing to the two of you before walking off aimlessly in a different direction. Satoru leans over, clicking your seatbelt into place before driving back off towards your apartment. 

“Unnecessary, Satoru. He was just trying to be nice.” 

“Too bad. You were mine first.” 

 - 

You’re nestled in bed, Satoru lazily tracing circles around the small of your back. He’d brought you home, helped you shower around your bandages, ordered your favorite Chinese food, and gave you two Asprin’s to help with your pounding headache. You knew Satoru was the doting type from the fever you had a few weeks ago, but this was next level. 

“Love?” 

“Hm, ‘Toru?” 

“You know I didn’t keep us a secret because you’re something to be embarrassed about right?” he whispers, his lips resting against your wet hair. 

“Yeah.” you lie, realizing you might have been talking a little bit too loud earlier.  

“Everyone just disappears when things become too real sometimes. Maybe they realize I’m not super carefree and outgoing all the time and go running in the other direction.” 

You run your hand along the length of his chest, stopping to rest it against his heart. You can feel his heart hammering under your hand. 

“I didn’t want you to run away, that’s all.” 

“I won’t do that. I really like you, Satoru.” 

He looks down, sending you a soft smile before pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. 

“I like you too, pretty girl. More than I’d like to admit.” 

You smile, your cheeks burning at his words. 

“Your lesbian friends, you know the green hair and that idiot Kugisaki. When she got hurt, the first person everyone looked to was Kugisaki, rushing her onto the field. You got hurt and no one even looked at me. I had to fight my way there.” 

“You didn’t even talk to me in public, let alone admit we were seeing each other.” you deadpan, frowning at him. 

“No, no. I know. I just mean that it made me realize that I want people to know I’m your person. That they should rush me onto a field when you’re not okay, congratulate me when my girl wins the game.” 

You sit up, taking his hands into your face. 

“You’re my person?” 

“If you’ll let me be.” 

You smile and lean forward, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. You feel him smile against you, laughing against your lips. 

“Yes, Satoru. You can be my person.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jujutsu satoru gojo #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x you #gojo satorou #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk satoru #jjk fanfic #satoru fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #seeingivywrites! #read more break

[dalamjisung]

feel something ❁ lee minho

genre: p u r e  a n g s t

word count: 5835

pairing: reader x lee minho

description: he was a habit that was just too hard to break, but you did it. two years ago, you broke the vicious cycle that was him... until he came back.

[to be read as a continuation of Habits of My Heart, but can also work as a stand alone!]

You are in his apartment.

How the fuck did you end up in his apartment?

And is that– yes, that’s his arm, laying heavy on your naked waist.

Fuck, is all you can think, raising your head from the oh so soft pillow while blinking your tired eyes awake. This is not how you planned to spend your holiday, but alas, there you are. Under his soft, striped sheets that, moments ago, you held onto for dear life as you moaned his name so prettily. That, you are sure, is something he would love to talk about once he is up, and that is why you start stirring, slowly moving despite the anxiety rising up your throat having you ready to run. It’s still quite dark, the cold, winter days taking their time with sunrise, but you could see enough with the dewy shine coming in through the sheer curtains. Your underwear is thrown by the end of the bed, and somehow, you still manage enough strength in your legs to drag it up to where you can reach with your hands. Unfortunately, your body is trapped under his weight, half on top of you and half taking every little free space available, and you can’t really move too abruptly or else he’ll wake up and you’ll be forced to face a reality you’re not quite ready to.

You’ll be forced to face Lee Minho.

“Oh come Y/N, are you really back on that dating app?” Sam asks, laughing her guts out over the cup of coffee that has long gone cold. “You didn’t even last the month!”

And she is right– last time you deleted that god forsaken app was three weeks ago, with the promise of taking a break while things at work started to pick up. Cue to now, 21 days later and counting, and you are back on it, swiping left and right whenever you feel the odd tingle of boredom creeping in. It’s an easy distraction, is what you always say; the amount of men in that app giving you a bit of a power high at the opportunity for choice, but the conversations bringing you way back down to the sad reality of the dating world. In between ghosting people and being ghosted, finding ‘the perfect match’ is impossible. For those that claim that they found true love on such places, you simple smile and nod– there is no point in debating your beliefs on modern if they are living their own happy ending. All you can do then is bubble a little in your jealousy, pretending is not big deal.

“Let me see your profile,” Sam is one of your closest friends, and definitely your biggest enabler. “Are you still using that photo of you I like? The one in the red shirt with– yes, you are, amazing.” Her feedback is overall positive, from the pictures, to the prompts, to the profiles of the people you matched with. “Oh! Miss dating app has 23 new likes! Let’s check them out, I’ll swipe– no. No, no, no, no way… right? No way!”

You are not sure what she’s talking about until you catch a glimpse of your phone in her hand. And there he is, that same photo you had swiped right on two years ago. Black and white– a dramatic flair, you’re sure– with him in the centre, smirking in a way that it seems almost taunting. It’s like he hasn’t changed at all, like time stopped when it came to him, and you can’t help but gasp in shock. Your hands are trembling when you grab the phone from your friend, bringing it closer to you in a way that very much so said you didn’t believe your eyes. “Holy shit.”

Two years. “Holy fucking shit.”

Two years without talking to each other. Without seeing each other. Without texting. “Holy shit, it’s Lee Minho.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You mutter like a crazy woman, and it gets on his nerves. It would get on his nerves, that is, if he was awake. Minho likes to tease you; he likes to push you away only to make the pull that much more appealing. And you fall for it, every single time, no matter how many times before you promise you won’t.

The routine is the same, as if you two are following a script. You get to his place– he never have and never will step foot into you apartment– and you text him. It feels oddly detached to ring his doorbell and announce your arrival, so a message is more than enough. The first thing he does is basically roast you for being unable to open his door, and really, who is he kidding? That old thing is so stuck in place you’re a bit surprised he’s able to have guests over. You try to tell him so, but he just clicks his tongue in that condescending way that makes your eyes roll as you follow him inside.

As always, the apartment is impeccable. He might be many things, really, with annoying being one of them, but the man is neat. The floor is clean, the lighting is perfect, the music in the background washes over you like calming waves trying to still your racing heart. Minho has this power over you, making you nervous in a way that no other man ever has, even if this is not your first encounter… by far. But you don’t show. Actually, you refuse to show, purposefully acting a bit too nonchalant about being there at all, loving how you can see it ticking him off by the second.

But before that– before the flirting, before the fucking, before the sneaking around with your underwear in your hands, there was the game. And boy, did you hate playing that fucking game.

Hey :D

What do you want, Minho?

What do I want?

I don’t know! I have a lot of things to say sorry for! :)

So… sorry! I acted like an immature dick back then.

I had other reasons to behave the way I did, but I don’t want to use them as excuses and just wanted to apologize

Apologize? You want to apologize after two years… on a dating app?

Well, okay… Uh, thank you, I guess? You did act like an immature asshole and I appreciate your apology.

But you do have my number, so I’m a bit confused as to why you just didn’t text me?

I do have your number, but… sometimes all we need is a push, you know?

I got this app yesterday and you were literally the third profile that showed up. Seeing your face again felt like a punch to the gut haha

And I thought I’d just say that if I could go back and do it all over again, I’d be better. For you. You were never anything but nice and understanding, and I should’ve treated you better.

So if you ever feel like… trying again… I’d love to give it a shot.

Are you serious, right now?

With all due respect, Minho, you gave me no reason to want to try and give it a shot. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the apology and I hope you are good and happy, but there is no way in hell that I’d ‘try again.’

Just thinking of the messages has you cringing. It was probably the stupidest thing you’ve convinced yourself of– the fact that you wouldn’t fall for his pretty words. It’s like he has a way with them that truly makes you wonder if he’s in the wrong profession. You tell him that, too, saying he should have been a poet or a fiction writer; the pictures he paints to you with his words do look better in your head, after all.

It takes him five days to get into your head… by literally doing nothing. After the conversation dies, with many more attempts of ‘let’s try again’ and empty ‘I miss you’s, you feel like you’re on a runner’s high. You feel like you’re on top, like you’re the winner of this stupid game you two always end up playing. But then he doesn’t text again. No ‘good morning’ or ‘how are you?’. No ‘thinking of you’ and definitely no begging for you wonderful, amazing presence to be back in his life. Now, it’s a little foolish to believe he’d ever do any of those– not even when you two were actually dating, two years ago, did he do that, so why now? What’s different now?

Well, to start, you. You are different, and he knows it. You’re grown now, more mature than you were. You are smarter, too, despite falling for the same words you feel for before. And now, you want different things too– no more silly ideas of a perfect relationship; no more giving your heart away in a whim, no more letting him handle you like a little stupid toy, no more wanting to call him when things get tough. All you want now– more like all you need, really– is some relief. Things have been hard… and that is putting it lightly. Work is hell, the winter is harsh, and life is just… a mess. So yes, safe to say you are desperate for some sort of soothing relief, looking to ease that growing tension on your shoulders.

Hence the dating app.

Going on dates is harder than you remember, when you begin again, but you simply amount the exhaustion to work and push yourself to get past your door, and out onto the street. It’s like you have a schedule for your free time as well as one for work– Hyojoon Friday night at the bar, Juyeon Saturday afternoon for lunch, Mark Sunday evening for an early dinner, and the list goes on and on and on. A few are first dates only– actually most of them are– but the ones that make it to a second or even a third date remain as that. A second or a third. As bad as it is to say, none seem to excite you as much as Minho did. Some are boring, and those are, oddly enough, the ones you try to stick to the most. If they are boring, you think, they won’t surprise you with any hurtful realisations of how you are not enough, or how they are better alone, or how they ‘can have some fun, but otherwise, just don’t have time.’

And it’s one of these boring ones, the ones you want to work so badly, that is the last drop in your very, very full bucket.

“And what do you think of climate change?”

You try so badly to ignore the itch in your hand, making you want to grab your phone and check that useless app again. You have your notifications off as a way to not allow an obsessions to arise but it’s futile and, honestly, quite naive to believe you’re not going to overthink every little thing that man said; and so you check, again and again, to make sure you don’t miss a message you know it’s not coming. It has been two days since he sent you anything and yet, you still check, and check, and check. The funny thing is that you meet Jeongin on the same app that Minho reached you on, but unlike Minho, your first date with Jeongin is one that you count the seconds to end.

“Climate change?” You repeat, eyes wide a bit in surprise. There is a smile on your lips, stiff and so well trained that, at this point, you don’t think it’s even believable. “I worry about it, of course.”

“But you eat meat?” He asks. The glint in his eyes tell you that he finds amusement in caging you against a wall. “That’s not very environmentally conscious.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

The close-lipped smile and the way your eyes discreetly check your wrist watch should have been enough, but he still manages to drag you to a coffee shop, running from the rain that poured all over you two as you marched out of the park. Tomorrow is a Monday and you have a presentation to prepare for, but still, he ignores you. And talks, and talks, and talks. By the time you make it home, you barely have any energy left to re-read your slides before passing out in the couch.

Date two isn’t much better, but at least it is a nice day and there are some musicians out playing in the park to keep you entertained as you two sit in complete silence. He’s not a chatty one, and you’re kind of tired of putting so much effort in and getting nothing back, so when you get home after that, you promise to not go out with him again. It’s a bit of an ego trip, how much he tries to contact you for a date you’ll know he’ll silently through, but you keep up with your dedication to your peace of mind. It’s not that deep, once you think about it. All this guy knows about you is the basic stuff– what you work with and how busy it keeps you. You take ages to respond to his message, and yet he still tries, and, at one point, he tries too hard.

It’s more the joke he makes than anything. You are mid report writing when you get a notification about an Instagram account trying to send you a message.

Hey Y/N, found you.

Who is this?

Kai!

Oh! Hi :) hahah how did you find me?

Took me hours lol

After that you just tell him that you’re not really ready to date and that you’re too busy, but it was lovely meeting him. After that, you get scared, and tired, and defeated. It’s like no matter what you did, you still couldn’t feel safe. No matter how many times you went out with them, how many chats over coffee you had, how many slightly intrusive questions you asked… it was never enough. It was still strange and new and unfamiliar and, quite sadly, unsafe. The slight touches have you flinching and the hungry looks make your curl inwards. Dating is hard for you, mainly because you’re not adventurous or fearless, quite the contrary– you are very, and with all the right, paranoid.

So when you text Minho, on your way home, regretting every words typed, you know that despite breaking your heart and acting like a class A idiot, he is, and will always be, familiar.

Familiar. Yes, Minho was familiar— everything about this situation was fucking familiar. The way that you hurriedly got dressed, the way that you walked on your tippy toes in hopes to make less noise, the way that, when you did make noise, you flinched, looking at the door in panic. Waking him up is not an option. Throughout the night, multiple times he tells you about how busy he is; how he has to write a speech for work, and how he has to present in front of a very important crowd, and how he is oh so nervous to do what he always does. And multiple times through the night, you nod and smile and say that ‘everything will be okay’, even if you don’t quite know what you are nodding and smiling about.

Is it because you’re there with him? No, that’s not it. There was a time Minho made you happy; a time in which the aftertaste of him lingered in your lips and you smiled, wide and unabashedly, every time your tongue poked out to lick your lips. A time in which the smell of his cologne that clung to your sweater would make you blush at the memories of limbs intertwined on the couch and whispered words floating in the air. Yes, there was a time in which Lee Minho made you happy. But that time is now long gone.

“Why are you here, then?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour? Why are you there? On his couch, laughing with a cup of wine in hand, retorting every little quip he throws your way. There are quite a lot of them– Minho is a man that likes being right, he likes being on top… in all facets of life. Winning, for him, is extremely important, and you wonder just how much he’s willing to sacrifice for that first place position in a competition with no one else but himself.

Actually, you know how much he’s willing to sacrifice. You know it very well. “I was bored,” You shrug, taking a sip of your glass. “And horny.” It’s no secret why you’re there. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, as he always does– something about how cute you look when you’re all flustered and annoyed– and you wonder if he knows how cuter you can get when you’re excited and driven. You wonder if he knows how much you can talk about something you love, instead of having to talk about something irrelevant. You wonder if he knows you at all and it’s quite depressing to even question that, chuckling to yourself at the thought.

Of course he doesn’t.

In some odd self-defense against yourself, trying to ease the admonishing conscientious voice in your head, you tell yourself that his laughter is nice. It’s quite loud and free and his shoulder wiggle in amusement, and you like when he laughs. The same way you like when Sam laughs, or when your flatmate laughs, or when your work teammate laughs… the same way you like when anyone you care for or about laughs. And this is not news to you, you’ve always known you care for Minho. His opinion matters to you, and his words, as fake as they can be, still get to you. You might be blinded by youthful impulses and thoughts of immediate satisfaction, but you are definitely not an idiot– you see reality, but you wilfully ignore it for a few hours or so. Minho allows you to do that, and it’s quite a relief to allow yourself to do it, too.

The moment he sits next to you is impactful. The air stills, and it’s more out of expectation than anything else– will he make a move now? Later? There is no dance in between the two of you, as ironic as that sounds, but more of a game of who can surprise who. He enjoys the moment he touches you first, you know he does; it’s the smirk on his lips that gives him away. He adores tugging you closer, even if it ends up with you two crampled up in awkward positions on his couch. And he lives for the moment of the first kiss of the night.

It starts like it always does– a simple touch of lips, a bit of space for reassurance, because Minho is many things, but he is not forceful; and then the lunge. You smile everytime he does it and maybe you’re at fault for how smug he looks about it, but it doesn’t really matter. You like the lunge, you love it, even; it appeals to something inside of you, a need to be needed, to be wanted, that has you putty in his hands with one single move.

There is time.

You convince yourself that you still have time, and that maybe rushing around the empty apartment at 7 in the morning is not needed. Minho sleeps like a log, and unless you break something, he’s not waking up. And even if you break something, he might not wake up… or he might just not care. The later hurts a little, but you’re used to being hurt by him and you accept that you have no one else to blame but yourself… after all, you’re the one that told him you wanted something like this– casual, noncommital, stress free.

All in all, the plan is supposed to be fail proof. It’s that youthful impulsive behaviour, you see, and you are quite embarrassed to admit it, but you are not, in your core, a casual person. You are not noncommital and stress free. If anything, you are probably the most commital and stressed person you know, dedicating a full 110% of yourself to everything you do. It’s why you are always so tired, so burnt out… it’s why you avoid, with everything you have, debates and discussions. You just don’t have the energy to do all that anymore. You are still young, but you’re not stupid, anymore, and that’s what changed.

Sitting on the couch as you pull your sweater down, you sigh. “What the fuck am I doing?” It’s laughable, the amount of times you sat on that couch and asked yourself that exact question. Your friends don’t even want to hear about this anymore; they get annoyed, with you, with the situation, with him, and it’s always the same. 'You’re too good for him' or 'he doesn’t deserve you.' They are not wrong, but there’s only so many times you can try to tell them that you know that. You know; you know better than they ever will, and as much as you embrace their annoyance as love, you’re annoyed too. You want to vent too. You want to laugh about stupid shit Minho does too. You want to make all the mistakes you just weren’t allowed to make when you were supposed to make them, and he is definitely one of them. You want to not have to think about everything al the time, to be right all the time, to make the smart choice all the time. You want to simply not think all the time, and better than anyone else, Minho lets you not do that.

“Arms up.”

It is easy to ignore the bossy tone of his voice when his mouth is working on your neck, kissing, licking, biting. It feels good– it always feels good and, sometimes, it feels too good. Right now, however, it just… feels good. Feels peaceful and serene. It’s like time doesn’t matter when you’re kissing him, like all you have to do is follow his lead and not think and you love that. You love that feeling, even if you don’t love him. “Good girl,” He whispers, smiling as he pulls your sweater over your head.

It’s cold outside. Really cold, actually, and you shiver the moment the air hits your skin, goosebumps littering your arms as you shiver. Minho is on it, though, warm hands touching you all over, spreading a path of fire through your back and stomach and arms and breasts. “Cold?” He asks, and it’s a stupid questions, but it makes you giggle. These are the moments that are okay to pretend… okay to pretend he cares, with his hands tracing patterns all over until your bra goes missing, your pants are open, and his fingers are slowly brushing against your wet underwear. With his voice, mellow and soft, whispering sweet nothings and everythings against your ear, calling you all the names he knows you like to hear. With his restrain, cock hard against his jeans but not rushing or pushing until he knows you’re good and ready for him.

The thing about his house is that, as much as his living room is this sea of mood lighting and comfort, his windows run from the floor to the ceiling. You dream of the day you’d be brave enough to fuck him right there, on the same couch you two always start but never end– but right across the street is a bar, filled to brim every night you’re there, almost as if he had invited a crowd to watch you crumble at his fingertips. “Room,” You gasp, air being knocked out of your lungs just as his fingers tug your underwear to the side, teasing your entrance while playing with your clit. It’s amazing, how he moves his hand in the little space your pants allow him to, but with every push and pull of his fingers inside you, you gasp. Minho knows your body just like you know his– he knows what you like and it just so happens, he likes it too. Likes seeing you like that, breathless and limp; likes kissing you as you moan his name, wiggling on his lap as you make out on his couch. Likes when you beg him, to go to the room, to speed it up, to make you cum. He likes being in power, you assume, as much as he might not like you.

“You wanna go to the room?” He chuckled, speeding up his movements in a way that has you too distracted to event think. “Not a fan of exihibitionism, are you?” You would have laughed if that wasn’t the exact moment he chooses to pull his hand out, fingers dragging up, up, up to your clit for a little tease. A taste of what you can you have if you just let him work. “Come on, let’s go.” But before he can even take a step towards the familiar room, you tug him by the collar for a kiss, filthy and wet, and you basically rip his shirt off of his body. He is soft and hard at the same time, pun intended. For a man, he takes a lot of care of himself, and you envy the clear and soft skin of his chest, feeling self conscious about the blemishes you know you have. It’s an anxious impulse to pick at your arms, and it’s times like these that makes you cuss are your longish nails.

You forget all about it when he moans at the feeling of those same nails scratching down his chest, stopping just below his bellybutton. These moments are rare, you never have a chance to have some resemblance of control in how things unfold between you two, but something about it makes your eyes twinkle… and you want more. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so hot.” And you are– you feel like you are and that’s all that matters as you pop the button open, making space for your hand to slide down, under pants and underwear, to grab a hold of him. “Oh…”

There’s a draft coming from the room, where he insists on sleeping with the window upen as snow covers the entire street outside in white, and you shiver almost the same way you did last night. Except this time, you don’t have his sweaty, overheated body on top of yours, and it’s not as pleasant anymore. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on that couch, but you do know it’s time to get up and go. At one point or another, Minho will notice the empty space next to him in bed, and you don’t wish to be there to find out if he cares enough to come look for you or not.

You grab your jacket as if it’s made of glass. He hangs them neatly at the front door, which is right next to the room entrance, and you are scared to even step on his wooden floors. If the wood gives you away, then you are not sure you’ll have the guts to face him again. Usually, when you leave like this, doing the classic Irish goodbye and disappearing for a couple of weeks or so until someone falters. To be fair, so far, t’s an equal score. You wonder if there is an unspoken agreement between you two that dictates whose turn is it to text first… last night, it had been him.

“Fuck!” You moan, and just like before, you wiggle in place in a silent plea. Sometimes, in your opinion, Minho takes too long with his teasing, but you know it’s on purpose. Like how he is right now, brushing the tip of his dick between your folds. If it wasn’t for the condom, you’d feel the way he leaks in excitement. But alas, that’s one level of intimacy you are not, and never will be, ready to have with him. Someone, maybe, just not… him. You will never give yourself that fully to Lee Minho, because you did, once upon a time two years ago, and it was a struggle to get yourself back. “Minho, please, please just– oh my god…”

He’s a calculated lover. He knows just when to push and pull, and just then, as you beg and buckle your hips into him, hoping to feel that delicious, burning stretch of him, he pushes. Despite everything, you don’t quite like feeding his ego, and so you try and hold back the whimper that threatens to escape.

The build up of sex with Minho is slow. He pauses, moaning into your neck as he gives you a couple of seconds to get used to the feeling of him. “Y/N, fuck,” He whispers, moving to give you a bruising kiss and that’s when you know your time is done. The way he pulls back and pushes in again, and again, and again starts to build up inside of you, making you throw your head back into the pillow, fingers sinking into his back. You enjoy keeping him close, knees pushed up to his hips trying to feel him deeper, harder. You like the way he picks up the pace little by little, hipbones harsh in how they snap against yours, letting you know you’d be sore for next day with the echoes of his skin on yours. “Minho!” You moan, feeling his harsh breathing on your cheeks. A shiver runs up your spine when he fucks you harder, mouth everywhere until he finds bliss sucking marks on your chest. “Fuck, baby, please, please, please–” At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just wanting to feel that tension in your stomach explode and tingle everywhere, blanking you out from existence.

It’s not an easy job, making you cum, but he never fails to impress you with how determined he is. Not that he has ever been successful, but as you explained before, it’s not about the destination, but the journey. Sometimes, you think the reason why he keeps calling you back is the fact that you are a challenge. Sure, he had made you cum with his mouth before, those sinful lips wrapping around your most sensitive part as sucking like he was trying to drink you fully. Or those hands– long fingers drawing an orgasm out of you as if he was simply beckoning you to come closer and closer to him. But cumming from his dick, as much as your mind loved the fantasy, is hard. It’s more of a you thing than a him thing, but he is relentless in his mission. He pushes away from you, as much as your grabby hands try to keep him in place, and raises to his full glory, standing on his knees while holding your hips up to match his erratic rhythm. “So tight… feels so fucking good,” He groans, bringing one leg over his shoulder and you can’t handle it anymore. It’s odd, feeling this good yet feeling pain at the same time. Your leg is cramping up, and your hands are holding onto the bedsheets so tightly you might just crack your fingers out of place, and your core… god, your core is on fire.

“Minho, please, just– oh my– cum, please baby,” Your twisting your whole body in a sensation that is foreign to you, and for a moment, everything stops. This is the first time you know it’s coming… you feel it, so close yet so far, and just as you’re about to tip over the edge, that euphoric sensation starting to spread in advance as your stomach coiled tighter and tighter as he pounded into you harder and harder… until he groans, impossibly loud, and his hips slow down to a stop. “You have got to be kidding me.”

What comes after is not that important– mainly because it’s not you, even as he slides his body down the bed, throwing your legs on his shoulders to get to work. If there is one thing Minho excels at, besides driving you absolutely nuts, is coaching you to the brink. It’s a shame, really, that you panic early, never letting him push you off the edge and make you cum so hard you scream his name in that high-pitched tone he loves teasing you about.

It’s a hard relationship you have with yourself, really. On one hand, that’s the only reason you’re there, the sex, the panting, the hours that pass by and you don’t even notice. But then, on the other hand, as much as you chase that orgasmic feeling like a madwoman, you don’t want it to end. No the sex, no– sometimes, all you want is for it to end, because you’re close, so so close to cumming that you might just ruin it all.

You don’t want to lose.

If you cum, you lose. It’s a sick game, and you’re playing it with no one else besides you, but you refuse to lose. This time, you’re on fucking top.

This time, if anyone is getting heartbroken, is him. If anyone is ending up on the floor crying, it’s him. If anyone is desperate for answers, it’s him.

This time, if anyone is losing, it’s fucking Lee Minho.

“Leaving early again.”

Chuckling, you don’t really acknowledge him yet, finishing tying your boots and wrapping your scarf around your neck, your chin, your face. You cover everything his eyes trace, smirking under the soft fabric and enjoying how it brushes over your lips so gently… he’s never that gentle with you, so it’s a welcoming contrast, your inanimate scarf to Minho.

It’s cold out, cold enough for the little skin you have on show to numb. With every step you take away from him, you numb. With every goodbye wave, every nonchalant glance, every uncaring smile– you’re numb to the point of feeling like you’re hypothermic. The cold, you find, opening his front door, only brings you back to a state of being you’re awfully too familiar with.

“What can I say,” You shrug, refusing to admit the defeat that is when he simply leans against the wall, smirking as if he knows what you’re going to say next. “I have nothing else to do here.” And with that, you step out, ignoring the pang in your stomach when the door actually slams shut behind you.

You can’t lost, you remind yourself one more time, marching to the subway station just a block away.

You can’t lose because if you lose, you lose him. And if you lose him, you’re numb forever.

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

Hi lovelies!!! Oh my god, this one was a wild ride >.< I hope you guys enjoy it, my little heart needed to write this as a venting session haha

#lee minho #lee know #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho stray kids #lee know stray kids #lee minho skz #lee know skz #lee minho angst #lee know angst #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #bang chan #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #lee minho imagine #lee know imagine #lee know one shot #lee minho one shot #imagines #imagine #stray kids imagines

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 14th Jan ✨

Oh, friends, I have had a shit week but these listens have definitely gone some way to making it bearable. Happy Audio Drama Sunday 🎧

👻 @tellnotalespod oh how I love you and how I have missed you!! It seems that some time has passed since the end of S1 and Leo has OBVIOUSLY made absolutely stellar choices in the meantime. Nothing is better for one’s mental health than isolation and trusting the slimiest creature on god’s green earth. 

🦀 @thesiltverses (37) my beloved Silt Verses have returned with a frankly exceptional HOUR long episode filled with so many things to scream about that I don’t even know where to start. Val’s revelation that extreme power can also be used to bring people joy is VERY interesting indeed. They were never going to be able to control her, but I doubt it even more now. And PAIGE stepping up!! Part of me really wants a Val vs Paige stand off but most of me wants to protect Paige at all costs… I am loving the music choices this episode and the scene with the telephone calls was so good! Also, PLEASE stop foreshadowing Carpenter’s death, I am going ‘lalalalalala I can’t hear you!!’

🧳 I listened to episode 8 of Travelling Light by @monstrousproductions after a night shift and the hazy tiredness only served to make it even more transcendentally beautiful. I adore the blossoming friendships aboard the Tola, especially between the Traveller and Óli 😭🌌

👁️ @malevolentcast (39) I love it when you can *feel* that an episode is gearing up to a season finale, a few little loose strands tied up here and there but one BIG problem looming for the finale. I NEED to remember to not listen to this show when I’m emotionally compromised in any way because I found myself bloody sobbing as Marie was talking about her son. I should know that Malevolent is going to play dirty with my emotions. 

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum ENDLESS okay I don’t want to ruin this for anyone who hasn’t listened yet but !!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!! and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! let’s go!!!!!!!!!!!

🐬 @patterspod P Files brought creative levity into our lives with the tale of Professor Fantabulum. I’m honestly a huge fan of the idea of creative genius as a torch passed on to the people who you inspire

🌨️ @thewhitevault (5) Oh I just don’t trust this guy at all. . . everything he says is so perfectly plausible that there’s just obviously something wrong with him. My friend pointed out that the family meeting mentioned surveyors . . . . .  Now S has been killed by something . . . . I just adore the way The White Vault slowly ramps up the cosmic kind of horror but you’re so distracted by all the other scary human shit going on that your brain is primed and ready to be terrified by the obviously fictional stuff by the time it happens. It’s such clever writing!! 

❤️‍🔥 The Love Talker (6) Ah, now, Ren…. Just because you *can* do something, doesn’t meant necessarily mean that you should… you feel me? Some of the anatomical descriptions in this episode made me want to vomit a little. It’s so awful, I need to know what happens next!!

🏢 @somewhereohio (S2E5) I’m absolutely living for these scenes with Green and Sterling. Are they squishing my heart into pieces? Yes. Do I feel sick to my stomach thinking about the impossibility of trying to perfect and control the one you love? Yes. Can I have more, please? 

🍾 I finished season 1 of @ameliapodcast and what an absolute DELIGHT that ending was!! What an absolutely masterful raising of the stakes at just the right moment in time to keep the listener absolutely hooked. I hope Tara and Lily come back one day, they were so much fun and I think will be even more fun as free agents! 

🌫️ @souloperatorpod dropped this week and the first episode is very intriguing indeed! I think I need to relisten without any distractions if I want to stand a chance of collecting all the threads of red string I’m going to need for this show! I really love the theme music and am very excited for more! 

♦️ The Grotto continues to be an absolutely WILD delight. I caved and listened to two episodes this week but it’s okay because I still have ep 4 in my back pocket. I love the music, the sound design, the fact that it is literally impossible to work out what the hell is going to happen next. Go listen to The Grotto!! 

Thanks to everyone making art - it makes things better 💓 I’m so excited for @camlannpod next week!!  

#audiodramasunday #audio drama sunday #tell no tales #malevolent spoilers #tsv spoilers #the amelia project #travelling light #the mistholme museum of mystery morbidity and mortality #finding pattersby #the white vault #the grotto #soul operator #the department of variance of somewhere ohio

[lovelybeesthings]

Playboy

Theodore nott x reader (3rd person)

Word count: idk (there's really not like enemies to lovers in this one maybe if I do a part 2?)

Warnings: underage drinking? Swearing not that much glass breaking

A/n: hello update on my life my mom is OKAY THANK THE LORD I change fandoms but I’ll still right Coriolanus fics if you send requests!

Summary: I was thinking about that one scene in Euphoria in the 1 ep in season 2 where Fez slashes the bottle into Nate’s head saying happy new years and was like this would make a nice fic (IM SORRY IF THIS IS PURE DOG SHIT)

-

Y/n L/n and Theodore Nott were both famously known in their house Gryffindor and Slytherin each had their reputation Y/n was nice and caring, Sweet a surprise she wasn't in Hufflepuff The thing that made her a Gryffindor was how bold she was and acting before thinking she had sent a lot of females to the hospital wing while Theodore was smart looks slick like a snake and in one word a Playboy doesn't matter what kind of girl she could be seeing someone he didn't give fuck.

Something they both have in common is that they have a feud Theodore has a new girl each week or even days before leaving them heartbroken and Y/n is there to heal it for them but Theo likes seeing how their hearts fall to his empty promises his empty words leaving like a ghost.

Theodore originally dated Y/ns closet friends and when he left her friend brokenhearted it sent her friend into a spiral of depression so bad that the poor girl transferred wizarding schools.

But currently, Y/n has found herself at a house party celebrating new years it had Hufflepuffs, Ravencloths, Slytherins, and Gryffindor.

Y/n had arrived earlier at the party with a few of her friends and she had on a black Minnie skirt paired with a black belt and black boots with a white off-the-shoulder top and access jewelry pretty makeup for the occasion and her (c/n) hair was in curls with the help of her friend.

Y/n took a sip of the beer she held with one hand she laid her head softly on the nearest wall her friends ditched her to go hang out with some Ravencloth boys.

The music was being blasted loudly not being to hear any small talk so she roamed the room seeing a few boys high passing a joint she was able to pinpoint one of the guys Mattheo riddle so that must mean his counter part is close by y/looked around once more spotting Theodore..

Her eyes studied him his dark brown curls his tall build and shoving his tongue down his next victim Y/n was taking her time trying to see who it was then to her horror she knew God she was going to murder him.

The girl was a fifth-year one year below them but that wasn't even the worst part she knew this girl she was a sweet Hufflepuff girl whom she tutored a bit and who she protected against a few Slytherin girls whom She had landed big hits just enough to send them a message and to the hospital wing in return the sweet girl made her baked good for a while month.

Y/n soon snapped back to reality once Theodore Watercolor's eyes met here it was honestly disgusting to seem to stare at her as he French kissed a fifth year her face scrunched up disgusted by his sick act as she finished her drink leaving to go to the kitchen for another bottle maybe something stronger to forget what she saw.

(TIME SKIP BC IDK 😣)

For a while now Y/n has been engaging in a conversation with Pansy she was the only member of Theodore's friend group she could stand and they were talking about Theodore be exact.

“It's truly disgusting I mean I've seen him bring back a lot of girls and it's been disgusting to see to make out with them in the common room but French kissing a fifth year?!”

Pansy says as she takes a big sip of her cup Y/n nods in response to her words “Does he have any fucking bloody lines!” she says scoffing as she drinks her beer.

Blind to her in the corner of the kitchen was the little sweet fifth-year “I'm going to go save the princess” Y/n remarks as Pansy grins letting out a giggle “Truly heroic!” she says clapping as Y/n makes her way into the kitchen looking down in the girl crying knees to her chest.

“Hey there my badger” y/n says as she slides down next to the girl handing her a tissue “You look beautiful tonight” The girl's eyes soften once they meet Y/ns “Hello Again..n” she lets out as she sniffs.

“What happened I saw you with him a couple of minutes ago and now I'm sitting on the kitchen tiles with you,” Y/n says trying to comfort the teary eye girl “As Theodore was kissing me he broke out of the kiss and said he spotted an old friend and I said to go say hi!” she says a small smile her cheeks stained with tears.

“After I while I was getting worried I didn't anyone here..e so I began to look for him,” she says as her voice cracks Y/n sighs “And you found him making out with this old friend right?”

Y/n places an arm I've the girl which makes her scoot closer to Y/ns embrace “You're not the first girl sadly that this has happened to” Y/n sighs as she can feel her blood boil she's going to give Theodore a night to remember for sure.

“I'll be right back just need to go to the bathroom okay?” Y/n says as she brings her beer with gets up as the fifth-year nods.

Y/n makes her way around the party and soon finds Theo he can feel the presence of Y/n behind him and slowly breaks away from his hot make-out session “Bambina leave me be for a few minutes” he says to his hookup.

“But the balls going to drop soon and I wanted you to be my first kiss off the-” she's immediately cut off “Ore” says in a stern matter with a cold state she soon backs up scoffing walking away.

“Sorry about that,” Theodore says as he wipes his mouth with a nearby napkin, and a smirk is printed on his good-looking face.

Y/n arms are crossed over my chest as she smiles stabbing her nails into her arm to try and control her anger “The balls gon a drop soon!” someone shouts his watercolor eye locked into her (e/c) eyes .

“So what did you need to talk about? You finally fell in love with me?” Theodore says cockyness in his tone “God no” Y/n says scoffing as a smile is on her face.

“Last time we were together you said you wanted to kill me,” He says smirking and arching his eyebrow staring at me waiting for a reaction “4, 3, 2,1” everyone shouts as they kiss, drink as Y/n lifts her beer “Yea well, New year playboy” she says as she smashes the glass into his he as knocking him out.

“OMG Y/n JUST KNOCKED OUT THEODORE! Everyone is stunned by the sound and the news.

PART 2??? Idk

#reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott angst #theodore nott x y/n #fanfic #theodore nott #theodore nott fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter

[voidfxndoms]

Something Blue (Part 1) // Sterek

Derek is getting married and Stiles, as his best man, decides to bring in an old bridal tradition.

Warnings: swearing, a lot of built-up feelings that don't come out in the best of ways.

W/C: 2,487 (total)

A/N: I had to split it into two parts because I was over the tumble world limit apparently??? I didn't even know tumblr HAD a word limit lmao. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this first part :)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

"Okay, Scott? How much time do we have?" Stiles asked, nervously pacing around the room. "Thirty minutes." "Oh my god, we're never gonna make it. Where is he? Where is Derek?" "He's going to be here, don't worry. We got plenty of time." Scott tried calming his best friend down. "It's his wedding, for God's sake! How can someone be late for their own wedding!" Stiles exclaimed, anxiety reeking off of him and invading the room. "Malia just texted me, Braeden is almost ready. I'm gonna go check on the catering and guests, maybe someone knows where he is. You need to calm down Stiles, we're gonna be fine." "I need to tell him, Scott.", Stiles said, eyes sad and shoulders slumped. "And you will. I got you." Scott smiled, putting both hands on his friends's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I swear to God if Derek doesn't bring his werewolf ass in here right now-" "Threatening me on my wedding day? I really should have asked Scott to be my best man.". A tall, bulky figure walked into the room, pearly whites flashing as the words left his mouth. "You piece of shit!" Stiles said before taking big strides towards the groom and adjusting his tie. "Relax Stiles, everything is going according to plan. Scott, did Stiles not take his Adderall today?" Derek joked, looking over at the young alpha. Stiles huffed, then stumbled towards his backpack. Ignoring the two wolves making fun of him, he took out some things from his bag and placed them on the room's glass coffee table. "Okay. You, big bad wolf, c'mere." Derek, cocking a brow, approached the small table in the middle of the room. He observed the objects in front of him as he sat on the small sofa. "Stiles? What is this? I refuse to do any sort of voodoo ritual." Scott, standing behind Derek, looked at his best friend with a puzzled expression on his face. "I thought this was only for brides." "Well," Stiles said, "this is no ordinary wedding, so I don't see why only ordinary traditions should apply."

"Can somebody please explain to me what the hell I'm looking at, and what is this supposed to be?" Derek asked, half amused, and half annoyed. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.", Stiles announced proudly as Scott rolled his eyes. Derek furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh my God," Stiles's jaw dropped. "You seriously don't know what I'm talking about?" "I have no idea what this is." the werewolf replied, confusion still plastered on his face. Before Stiles could say anything even remotely sarcastic, Scott said: "Guys, we've got twenty minutes. Stiles, make it fast." "Alright alright." the amber-eyed replied. He took a deep breath, unsuccessfully trying to calm his nerves. "As your best man,-" he started. "The worst decision of my life by the way, don't know what I was thinking." Derek interrupted him, chuckling. Stiles glared at him. "I was saying…" he continued, stressing the final word while shooting one last annoyed look at the giggly man opposite to him. "As your best man, it is my duty to make sure you enter this new chapter of your life in the best way possible, carrying bits and pieces of your life before that horrible mistake when you decided to marry Terminator's daughter." "You know her name is Braeden. And, come on, be nice to her -- she saved all of our lives. I still don't understand why you hate her so much." "It's not her that I hate…" Stiles mumbled. For a split second, Derek saw a glint in his best man's eyes. It was pure sadness, but it lasted for so little he questioned whether he'd imagined it. "Anyway, I took the liberty of borrowing a bridal tradition. In front of you you have three objects," Stiles said, before picking up the first one. "Wait, weren't they supposed to be four?" Derek questioned. "We'll get to that in a minute. Now, the first one; something old." "The triskelion?" "Yeah. This part is about having a relic, something that will always remind you about your roots. The sentimental value this thing holds is insane." Derek raised an eyebrow. "Think about it. Your mom used it to help you and your sisters learn how to control your powers. It's been in your family for years, Kate tried to steal it… you even have it tattoed on your back!" Stiles explained. "I also used it with Liam." Derek pointed out. "Yeah, but that was a total disaster." Derek looked at him, lips tight in a thin line, the eyebrow still cocked. "What? It's not my fault your whole "We can all rise and fall to another" speech didn't work." "Alright, alright. Stiles? Move on." Scott intervened, time slowly running out. He nodded, giving Derek the triskelion, who put it in the inner pocket of his tuxedo. "Object number two, something new.", Stiles said. Derek held it for a few moments, before shooting his head up and asking: "What the hell am I supposed to do with a roll of duct tape?", annoyance oozing from his voice. "Trust the process. The "something new" is an object that will help you in your new life."

Skeptic, Derek let his best man keep talking. "And now something borrowed. Courtesy of Jackson." "I don't need a bow tie, I'm already wearing a tie." "See," Stiles said, making his way to the groom, "This sentence is exactly why you need the bow tie." Kneeling before him, he undid Derek's tie and started tying the navy blue satin bow tie Jackson had lent for the occasion. Derek hardly ever wore suits, and even more rarely tuxedoes. He liked casual and comfy clothes and had no interest in the world of elegance. However, when the engagement had been announced and his closet opened, the only suit Stiles had been able to find was dusty, crumpled, and sprinkled with holes made by some very hungry moths. So he had forced the alpha to the best suit shop in Beacon Hills, where Derek had gotten a tailor-made navy blue tuxedo with black satin flaps that had been hunting Stiles in his dreams ever since the first time he had seen it on the werewolf. But Derek had drawn the line at that, refusing to spend one more dollar on his appearance, claiming that he wasn't getting married to the crowd but to Braeden. "She loves me for me. I don't give a shit about what the guests are gonna think." "You really thought I was going to let you stand there, butchering all degrees of style?" Stiles asked cockily, straightening the perfect bow he had tied. "Oh come on, you're being dramatic." Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles scoffed. "First of all, you were wearing a TIE. With a TUXEDO. Ties are worn with suits, bow ties are for tuxedoes." Derek's eyes widened slightly, surprised at the reaction. "Okay fashion police, my bad." "And let's not even mention the state of the tie you were wearing… Terrible!" "Okay- Stiles? It's okay. We get it. Move on.", Scott said, worry in his eyes. "No you don't!" Stiles almost shouted, suddenly misty-eyed.

To be continued...

#derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #sterek #angst #bestman #wedding #braeden #scott mccall #teen wolf fanfiction #writeblr #writers on tumblr #masterlist

[jyndor]

@miraclesabound okay friend you reminded me of something funny. so I took a 6am train to get into DC by like 7:30, so I was there from the jump, and yes it was cold but I dressed appropriately so I didn't really have a hard time with it. and later on, like if anyone has ever been to a big protest you know that when you're in a massive crowd like that you do heat up because you're all close together (and marches are supposed to be close, you're not supposed to let a bunch of space build up between marchers because it's easier for cops for instance to fuck shit up if you get separated, etc) but when you're just standing around for ages your feet will not understand that you are surrounded by other people and will get super cold, which is rude of them 🤬

so anyway when I got to dc I got something quick to eat at a wawa lol and then made my way over to the rally area at around 8:30, where it was basically just organizers starting to trickle in. and yes, it was freezing.

it was also beautiful out, but very chilly and windy. around 10:30-11 or so the sky CHANGED (I cropped this photo bc PEOPLE DONT KNOW HOW TO COVER THEIR FACES)

the wind was rolling. it did clear up after a bit of a sprinkling, which I was like lmao oh god no please not this, rain makes americans want to stay inside but it passed quickly because of the wind thankfully. also I forgot which americans we're talking about - Arab americans show up for palestine no matter what, and of course the crowd was super diverse and full of all people but this is a movement that is driven by Arab americans, Muslim americans, Palestinian americans, Black americans (edit: cannot believe I forgot Jewish americans im dumb) etc. they show up no matter what.

later, in the rally which started at around 12 for six palestinian americans to speak on their families' traumas in the war and then at 1 or so the official rally began, yeah it was windy as hell and it was kind of funny, there were these massive palestinian flags all over the crowd (I experienced two of them - one in the front and later during my phone issues towards the center back - I didn't see the end of the crowd but it stretched over blocks and streets, it was massive for the united states which sadly doesn't get protests like this often) and they had handles for people to hold onto them and pass them around the crowd - kind of like all of us holding onto palestine, at least thats how I took it - but the wind was WINDING and so we were all kind of struggling to keep it from flying away

fucking wind working for genocide joe jk

anyway at protests there are organizers who have supplies and I saw some people with hand warmers, but when we got to the white house hours later i was next to a man who was blowing into his hands bc they were so cold. I had an extra scarf (i had my keffiyeh and then another scarf which is wool and very warm, my keffiyeh is a fake bitch so it is not super warm like a real hirbawi one, i used to have one of those like ten years ago but i lost it in a move i think 😭😭😭) so I lent it to him to wrap his hands.

here's me with my fake bitch keffiyeh and my new cat finn btw

cats say free palestine

but let's be real it was in the high 30s or low 40s, even with the wind it wasn't like... the worst I've experienced. here in Delaware we don't get winters like we used to but last December there was a night that dropped to 8° Fahrenheit or -13° Celsius so I've had worse. but some discomfort is nothing compared to what gaza is going through, and even if the temperatures aren't like that in gaza* it's still cold at night and going through starvation, dehydration, the trauma of war, disease etc is made even worse by dealing with cool nights in a tent.

it was cold but we were all warmer together.

*my cousin's israeli friend literally had the gall to say that it's ridiculous for people to worry about the cold nights in gaza bc it doesn't get that cold like ??? bitch??????

#i have better pictures but again i need to blur the faces #free palestine #march4gaza #miraclesabound #lol sorry i had a bit to say about this #cats #free gaza

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

i crack and out i pour

(robert aeor high au p3)

masterpost

FINALLY JIMMY'S HERE ODKSLFJLSDKJ i've been waiting so long for this ohhh my god welp this is the longest update yet :)

hope you like!!

Jimmy. So that’s his name- Joel had been wrong about that bit, at least. Scott can’t help but take note of his ruffled blonde hair, short and scruffy, tucked behind his ear with a pink, flower-patterned hair clip, his standard knee-length skirt showing thin, bird-like legs. He’s quite short, his height even less impressive than Scott’s five foot seven stature, and this is what causes Scott to come to a startling realization: Jimmy can be no one else but the person he’s just bumped into in the hallway; if only he’d known.

or, Scott meets the new boy! and they have a conversation :)

(4279 words)

Science is decidedly Scott’s favorite class, if only because he shares it with Owen and Shelby. To be fair, though, he does somewhat enjoy what they do, loves that he can just sit and talk to his two friends while doing some dumb experiment where everyone knows what the final reaction will be. Stepping into the familiar, vaulted classroom today, Scott scans the tables quickly, spotting Shubble and rushing over to claim the seat next to her, as Owen doesn’t seem to be here yet.

That’s another great thing about science: they’re allowed to choose their own seats, and they can choose new places to sit every day. Scott is almost always sitting with Shelby and Owen, his two friends in the class- the only time when he’s not is when Shubble wants to sit with Pearl and her group of crazy friends, or Owen with Lilith, his partner. But today, Shelby’s sat at the table they usually pick, nestled comfortably in the back corner: Scott’s favorite place.

“Hey, Scott!” Shelby smiles in greeting, eir legs swinging from her chair as eir eyes just barely peek over the table, her mushroom hat the only reason Scott was able to spot em in the first place.

“Hey, Shubble,” he says, “Do you want something to sit on?”

“Yes please,” Shelby exhales, “I tell you, it’s hard being this short.”

“For your species, you’re actually quite large,” Scott points out, pulling a few textbooks out of his school bag and plopping them down next to his friend. Technically, what he’s said about Shelby’s height is true. For a gnome, ey’re very tall, but for any other species? Not so much. She stands at a whopping three foot five, and the few times Scott’s seen her with her parents, ey’ve been towering over them by at least six inches. “You can sit on these, I don’t need them till later.”

Shelby’s dark brown hair is parted into two braids, which stick out from underneath her iconic hat, made of a bright red mushroom speckled with large white spots. Ey’re one of the only people who actually looks good in the school uniform, the navy blue and white tie complimenting her dark eyes quite nicely.

“Thank you, Scott.” Shubble says, propping up his textbooks on her seat and clambering atop them, crossing eir arms neatly on the table. She’s always polite, and that’s one of the reasons Scott loves em so much. They’ve been friends for almost three years, the final addition to their little group, that until Shelby came along, had been composed of only Scott, Joel, and Owen. 

And speaking of Owen, here he is now, weaving quickly in between the tables before sneaking behind Scott and Shelby’s, plopping himself down on the chair next to the gorgon. “Ready to science?” he grins, stretching and grinning at the other two.

“I need to talk to Shelby for a sec, but after that, yeah, duh,” Scott smirks back at his best friend, though he knows Owen will be listening in the whole time.

“What about?” Shubble leans in close, as if Scott’s telling her some big secret. And he supposes he is to an extent, though really, it’s nothing huge.

“Xornoth, my father, a dream I had, just a ton of shit.” Scott leans down onto the table, just Shelby’s concerned face already easing him a little bit out of the breakdown mindset.

“Oh, no- not Xornoth. What was ze doing now?” Shubble has had eir own experiences with the tiefling, and Scott knows that her distaste for zir is just as great as his own, if not even more pronounced.

“...trying to touch my snakes,” Scott confesses, his insides twisting into an anxious knot just remembering zir calloused hands rubbing roughly against his head.

Owen and Shelby’s reactions are immediate and identical. They both swing their heads towards Scott, their faces shocked and seemingly disgusted, yelling, “What?!”

“Quiet down back there!” the teacher, Mx Leiverman, yells from the front of the class.

Scott’s friends ignore them, Owen still staring, horrified, at Scott, and Shelby jumping down from her chair to stand on the table directly in front of him, glaring down at him, eir eyes angry and scared.

Owen speaks first. “Scott, that’s… not an okay thing for zir to do.”

“No, it most certainly is not! Why didn’t you text me?” Shubble chimes in, waving her arms in the air. “I could have helped! You could have had a breakdown! Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not completely catatonic right now- I know how much you hate unwanted touch, and from Xornoth? That’s, like, twelve times worse!”

“I didn’t want to bother you guys,” Scott reasons. He should have known they’d react like this, should have known they’d take it as such a huge deal. “It’s not really all that bad. I’m fine.” He’s not.

“I don’t believe that for even a second.” Shelby’s continuing to yell at him, pointing accusingly at his head. “If something like that ever happens to you again, I want you to tell me right away. Understood? That is disgusting.” Scott’s disgusting. “I can’t believe anyone would ever do anything like that- but if anyone was going to, it would be Xornoth, wouldn’t it-”

“Shelby, please quiet down!” Mx Leiverman sounds annoyed now, and Scott gestures to Shelby for em to climb back into eir seat. She shakes her head defiantly, anger and worry bubbling up behind eir eyes.

“Jesus, Shubble, it’s really not that big of a deal.” Scott’s struggling to keep acting this nonchalant, doesn’t really know why he’s keeping up the charade, really, but he doesn’t want to worry his friends. Even though Shelby’s the therapist of the group, and he’s been planning to tell her all this since it happened, Scott can’t seem to allow himself to open up. Shubble really seems to care, and he can see her blowing up even further, opening eir mouth, no doubt to argue.

“Yes it is,” Owen says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, “That’s a legitimate legal offense. You could probably sue Xornoth for that, and I mean this genuinely.” He enunciates the last word, each syllable coming out crisp and clear.

“But I’m not going to, because it’s no big deal!” Scott’s getting frustrated now. He should have known they’d take it like this, should have known they’d get this angry. Well… no, that’s not completely true. He should have expected Shubble to act like this. Owen? Not so much. He’s just full of surprises this morning, it seems.

“Well, if you don’t want to talk about it or press charges, we aren’t going to force you,” Owen sighs. “Right, Shelby?” He glares at her, clearly signaling to em to drop it. Owen’s known Scott long enough now to know when he won’t crack, and even if he’s certain that Owen agrees wholeheartedly with Shelby, he at least knows when to let sleeping dogs lie.

“...Sure.” Ey seems slightly embarrassed, and she climbs off the table, returning to eir chair. “But Scott, if you ever change your mind about this, tell me. If you ever want to bring this to the attention of school authority, please let me know.”

“Yep, absolutely,” Scott mutters, more to ease the gnome’s worry than to actually agree. He knows he won’t, if only because it’ll make him even easier to pick on than he is now, but he also knows how it’d be such a sign of weakness, how disappointed his father would be, because Scott’s so horrendous already, he doesn’t need to add coward to the long list of things wrong with him.

“Good.” Shelby’s relieved; he can tell by the way eir shoulders relax, the way her eyes lose the intense ferocity they had harbored not seconds ago.

Owen catches Scott’s eye, nodding slightly. “Seriously, though.” Scott feels a sudden pang of affection for his friends, because though they’re being annoying as hell, he does need to hear this from time to time, hear that they care for him, hear that what he’s going through is real.

“Thanks, Shubble. Thanks, Owen.” He offers each of them a smile, sinking slightly at the edges but more genuine than any expression he’s made in a while. 

Before Scott’s friends can respond with more than a rueful shake of the head and a small grin from Owen, Mx Leiverman is clapping from the front of the room, a loud, harsh sound that signals that they have an announcement to make.

“Attention, please! Hey! That means you, Pearl, listen up!” While Mx Leiverman is trying to get the attention of the class, Scott notices that there’s a person, leaning up against the wall behind the teacher’s desk, their arms crossed tightly across their chest, bright yellow wings peeking out from behind them.

It’s the new kid, it has to be, there’s no one else it could be. Grian’s a parrot, he has mostly red, patterned wings, and Bek’s an owl. They’re the only two avians in school, and even on the small off-chance that one of those two would be in this room for whatever reason, they look nothing like the one standing stiffly at the front of the class.

Shelby’s noticed him too, and ey peeks over at Scott, her eyes inquisitive. “Is that the kid Joel was talking about?”

“I guess so,” Scott whispers, being very careful that the new boy can’t hear them. “Owen, did you see those texts?”

“Yeah,” Owen mutters, looking everywhere but the avian stood in the corner, glancing back at him every few seconds. “Timmy, right?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Scott answers, before Shubble shoots them a “stop talking” look, and all three direct their attention to the front of the room, where the teacher has finally gotten the class under control.

“Alright, everyone,” Mx Leiverman calls out, exerting their voice so it carries across the whole room. “As many of you may know, this-” they gesture to the avian- “is our new student, Jimmy. Would you like to introduce yourself to the class, Jim?”

Jimmy. So that’s his name- Joel had been wrong about that bit, at least. Scott can’t help but take note of his ruffled blonde hair, short and scruffy, tucked behind his ear with a pink, flower-patterned hair clip, his standard knee-length skirt showing thin, bird-like legs. He’s quite short, his height even less impressive than Scott’s five foot seven stature, and this is what causes Scott to come to a startling realization: Jimmy can be no one else but the person he’s just bumped into in the hallway; if only he’d known.

“Um. Hey, I’m Jimmy?” The statement comes out inquisitive, making it sound like the avian is questioning his own name. Mx Leiverman gestures for him to elaborate, and Scott can see Jimmy sinking into his wings as they twitch. He’s evidently trying very hard not to wrap them around himself. 

When he doesn’t continue, their teacher takes it upon themself to prompt him into speaking. “And where did you move from, Jimmy?”

Jimmy’s eyes have gone wide, and he looks like he’s struggling not to curl into a ball on the floor. “I-I moved from the… from a city a couple miles south.” Scott furrows his brow. This had obviously not been what Jimmy was originally going to say, and he’s obviously distressed. Scott feels for the guy, hopes for his sake that Mx Leiverman stops asking questions. It’s obviously making him very uncomfortable, and Scott’s been in similar situations before. It’s never fun.

“...What was the city called?” Mx Leiverman asks, prodding for more information.  Scott almost facepalms, because any idiot can see how much the avian’s struggling right now, how much he wishes he could get out of the spotlight.

“Um, it was called…Jimmyville?” The class is working hard to hide their snickers, especially Joey, sitting alone at a table near the front of the class.

“Uh huh. Sure. What’s it really called, Jimmy?” Mx Leiverman is not amused, their nails beginning to drum a simple rhythm on their opposite arm.

“Can I go sit down now?” Jimmy doesn’t look like he’ll be answering any more questions. He’s staring determinedly down at his feet, as if not looking at all the people in the room will make them go away, will make them stop looking at him. His feathers ruffle, shaking slightly before laying back down into a more subdued pattern.

He’s kind of cute.

In the way all avians are cute, of course.

“Sure,” Mx Leiverman sighs, rubbing their temples and scanning the room, their gaze glancing over all the tables before landing on Scott and his friends. “I think you’d fit right in at that table in the back, Jimmy.”

He grabs his textbooks and walks over, still staring daggers at the floor, his wings pressed close against his body, prickling up in something that Scott assumes is either anxiety or embarrassment- though given Jimmy’s interrogation, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was a combination of both.

Shelby smiles at the canary as he trips towards them and scoots himself into the seat between her and Scott. “Hi, Jimmy!”

“Hey,” Jimmy mutters, attempting to smile and failing utterly. Shubble seems to have a good idea of what’s up, though, and ey leaves him be, though not before offering half of her granola bar, which Jimmy accepts gratefully.

Over the course of the introduction to class, Mx Leiverman drones on and on about what they’re going to be doing today, what obvious experiment will be conducted. Scott opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to find sentences that he can use to speak to the avian. 

But Jimmy’s head is still ducked close to the table, his wings hanging loosely off the back of the chair, and Scott can’t seem to come up with words that sound genuinely friendly, and not weird or awkward. It doesn’t help that every time he tries, his insides feel like they’ve just been dropped off the high end of a cliff.

What is happening?

Scott turns his head away from Jimmy, staring intensely at the instructions on the board, determined to look anywhere other than Owen, who’s flashing him looks. Scott does not need to feel more confused than he does right now, and he can feel a bout of self-hate beginning to push in, disgust at how he’s feeling.

He hasn’t even spoken a word to this short bird boy, and already he can’t control himself. All Scott wants to be is normal, to be a full gorgon, to have the right feelings, to be the way men are supposed to be.

Scott glances behind him, and is suddenly aware of a huge mass of bright yellow feathers extending from Jimmy’s back. He’s stretching; his wings spread out to their full extent, eyes closed and arms stuck into the air. He does a little shake and his wings retract, folding back into their unassuming shape.

“You have a really large wingspan for your height,” Scott notices, not realizing until too late that he’s spoken aloud.

“Oh, yeah, I guess so,” Jimmy answers, looking surprisedly at the gorgon.

Well, Scott can’t let the conversation drop now. Plus, he has questions. “I’ve never really known an avian before, do you mind if I ask you some questions? Oh, I’m Scott, by the way.” Scott supposes he should at least introduce himself if he’s going to be this kinda guy.

“Well, I’m not exactly the best person to ask about that kind of thing…” Jimmy rubs the back of his neck self-consciously, grey-blue eyes looking to the side.

“I don’t mind,” Scott says quickly, and perhaps a bit too earnestly. He can hear the excited edge in his voice, and worries that he’s startled the canary. But instead of seeming weirded out, Jimmy laughs, a melodious, bird-like noise, clear and high-pitched.

“Well, I suppose so, then- only if I can ask you about being a gorgon, though. Back where I’m from, I only knew one. Her name was Nellie and she was ke- she lived on the other side of the city. I didn’t know gorgons could be cyan, tell me about that?”

Scott can feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling up, discomfort coursing through his veins. “Um…normally, we can’t? I’m a hybrid, though, my mother’s a siren.”

“Huh, that’s interesting. I didn’t know hybrids between species were even a thing.” Jimmy’s picking at his feathers as they talk, never quite looking Scott in the eye, which he appreciates. Eye contact is something Scott’s never been a fan of, as it reminds him of his father, and he’s very relieved that Jimmy doesn’t seem to particularly enjoy it either, making the conversation a lot more comfortable for the both of them.

“Yeah, some species can crossbreed, some can’t. Apparently, a siren and a gorgon are close enough genetically that it works out.” Scott shrugs, trying to be nonchalant when really he’s warding off a breakdown. “I mean, if they weren’t, I wouldn’t be here, would I.”

“I guess not,” Jimmy agrees. “So, wait- can you still turn people to stone?”

“No.” Scott doesn’t elaborate, the question has already sent off too many alarm bells in his head, stupid defective fake disgusting wrong-

Scott realizes that Owen’s back, turned away from him and Jimmy, tensed at the avian’s last question. He’s been eavesdropping- again- and he knows it’s a topic Scott’s sensitive about. He feels a sudden burst of affection for his best friend.

“Sorry-” Jimmy starts, clearly having picked up on Scott’s anxiety.

“It’s fine,” he reassures the avian, “It’s just… kind of personal, you know?” Jimmy nods vigorously, his hair clip starting to fall out. Scott has to resist the urge to reach over and tuck it back in.

Owen’s back relaxes, and Scott feels quite proud of the way he handled such a sensitive subject as well. “So, about being an avian- can you fly?” Now it’s Jimmy’s turn to look uncomfortable, and Scott knows he’s overstepped, though he doesn’t know how.

“...kind of,” Jimmy answers, his posture somehow more rigid than before. “I was a little late learning, though- I’m not the best at flying.”

“Huh. I’m a gorgon who can’t petrify, you’re an avian who has trouble flying. Looks like we’re both de-” Scott stops himself from saying defective, reminding himself that though it’s true for him, other people often get defensive or weirded out when he calls himself that. “I guess we’re both kind of in the same boat,” he corrects himself.

“Yeah,” Jimmy agrees, offering a small, quivering smile that causes a shiver to run down Scott’s spine. “Yeah, I guess we kind of are.”

The conversation kind of dwindles after that, Scott not really knowing what to say, but kind of feeling like there’s not much more that needs to be said, at least right now. Mx Leiverman has finally finished the instructions for what they’re doing in class today, and Scott realizes that he’s been so caught up in his conversation, and even after it was finished, just thinking about what was said and Jimmy and other things, but mostly Jimmy.

“Shelby, do you know what we’re doing for class?” he half-whispers, leaning behind the canary to get a clear view of the gnome.

“You need to listen better,” she hisses, throwing him a glare that he knows by now is fake. 

“Fine, I’ll ask Owen, then,” Scott challenges. Shubble rolls eir eyes, barely concealing a smile.

“Ask me what? And why are we whispering?” Suddenly Owen is there, out of his seat, head leaning in between Scott and Shelby. 

“Oh, hello- I was just wondering what we’re doing, I didn’t catch what Mx Leiverman said,” Scott explains to his best friend. They’re all still crowded around right behind Jimmy, and Scott imagines it must be quite awkward for him- surrounded by people who you don’t know, who aren’t talking to you or about you. Scott’s been in similar situations before and it’s not a particularly nice feeling, so he leans back into his seat, gesturing for Shubble and Owen to do the same.

“Jimmy, did you hear what Leiverman said?” Scott asks, turning to the avian.

“No, I was talking to you, remember?” 

Of course he was! Scott feels quite silly, and mutters a half-agreement before feeling Owen tap him on the shoulder and gesture to the corner. Scott raises an eyebrow before following, reassuring Shelby that they’ll be back in a second.

“So, what do you think of Jimmy?” Owen always feints around the questions he really wants to ask, and never says anything without a reason. Scott can tell he’s up to something, but he also knows that Owen’s trying to get more information out of him first, and he’ll never find out what about until Owen wants him to.

“He’s fine, he seems like a nice kid? I don’t know, I’ve known him just as long as you have- cut to the chase, Owen, what are you on about now?”

“Whatever could you be talking about,” Owen smirks, picking lint off the dark red sweater he always seems to be wearing, even times like now when he’s supposed to be donned in only the school uniform.

“You know full well what I’m talking about, what do you want from me?” Scott’s quite fed up with Owen's little guessing games at this point, because though at times they can be quite endearing, other times, like this, they’re just really bothersome. 

Owen widens his eyes innocently, barely hiding his trademark grin. “I couldn’t possibly know what you’re referring to, Scott Smajor.”

“Come on, Owen, give it up. Why are you asking me about Jimmy?” Scott swears he can see the avian’s ear feathers peak up at the mention of his name. Owen shushes him loudly, having obviously seen it too.

“Fine, but don’t get mad. You have a crush on him, don’t you.” 

Scott’s eyes widen at the tiefling’s statement, and he shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, no, no. And even if I did, you know I’m not supposed to like guys, I just haven’t found the right girl yet- I can’t be gay, do you understand how disgusting that would make me? Even worse than I am now, even more of a horrific person-” He’s shaking, hyperventilating, almost, because he hates talking about this, he hates bringing it up, he hates when Owen brings it up, because it’s bad to even think about and Scott hates himself-

“Scott! Stop it with this shit. You’re just as gay as I am bi,” Owen glares at him, momentarily snapping him out of his bubble of anxiety. “Just because you’re in denial and live with an abusive family-” he doesn’t, and he’s not in denial- “does not mean you get the right to be homophobic or self-deprecating.”

“And plus,” Scott adds, ignoring Owen’s outburst because he can’t let himself believe he’s anything but the disgusting idiot he is, he just can’t, he doesn’t know who he’d be if he didn’t hate himself- “I’ve literally known this kid for five seconds. Even if I was gay, it’s not like I’m gonna suddenly fall in love with whatever random chap looks in my vague direction.”

“You’re changing the subject. Apologize.”

“Fine.” Scott rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry I don’t want to be even more revolting than I already am- I have it hard enough without having to think about… that.”

“That is not an apology. Being queer is not revolting. Do you think I’m revolting? What about Shelby? What about Jimmy, who’s pretty obviously gender non-conforming with his skirt and hair clip?” Owen gestures angrily towards their table, where Jimmy and Shubble seem to be getting on splendidly. “Do you think we’re revolting? ‘Cause I’ll remind you, the majority of your friends are not straight and/or cis.”

“I- no, I don’t think you’re revolting-” Scott’s on the defense now, backing up with his hands raised in surrender.

“Then what are you getting at?” Owen jabs him in the chest, hard, not the friendly pokes Scott’s used to, and he stumbles backwards, eyes wide. “Because you can’t really hate one queer person due to their gender or sexuality without hating all of us, even if that one queer person is yourself. Look, I get that you have a fucking hard time. I get it! But this does not give you the excuse to press your trauma on everyone else. Now properly apologize. Or else.”

Scott doesn’t know what to do, he can’t figure out how his own logic works, how he’s gross because he’s gay, but all his friends aren’t- his mind reels. But he does suppose he has to apologize. “...I’m sorry, Owen.” It’s almost too soft to hear, but Owen seems satisfied, folding Scott into an awkward hug for the second time that day. 

“It’s okay,” Owen reassures. “That’s what I’m here for- to correct you when you say the dumbest shit imaginable. Now come on, let’s go do a science experiment.”

Owen walks back to the table, Scott trailing slowly behind him. He doesn’t think his friends are disgusting, he really doesn’t, so then why does he feel like he is? Because no matter how many times he tries to take what Owen says to heart, he can’t, he just can’t. 

For a moment, just for a moment, Scott tries to let himself imagine what it would be like if he hadn’t grown up the way he had.

He thinks… he thinks it might have been nice.

#robert aeor high au #flower husbands #smajor #smajor1995 #smajor95 #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #owengejuicetv #owengejuice #copper duo #fruit salad duo #copperfruit duo #scowen #solidarity #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #canary jimmy #traffic series #empires smp #my writing #mcyt #fanfic #fic #au #AUTHOR FELIX STRIKES AGAIN #mcyt fanfic #shubble #shelby shubble #shrub berry

[jarmes]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon Fanfic - Yiffy's Mother

The first thing Yiffy notices is that the woman standing before her looks like her mother. She has her long, messy dark hair, the big glasses, the protruding teeth, and the pointy white ears. Except, she’s young. Younger than Yiffy, maybe. And, the smell is wrong. She smells like dried blood. She hovers in the air, with eyes darker than the darkest night, and stares at Yiffy.

Yiffy growls.

Use your words, Yiffany.

the imposter says without moving her lips. Yiffy winces as the words appear in her brain, overriding her thoughts, keeping her from thinking about anything but the imposter’s command.

YIFFY: FUCK YOU

DAVE: oh shit boss i dont think doggy girl is happy to see you

The imposter’s retainers emerge from the shadows. To her left stands a troll with red wings, curved horns, and a massive smile. Something about her makes Yiffy afraid, more afraid than she’s ever been. To the imposter’s right is a metal man with red sunglasses, holding a sword. She recognizes him from the photos. Dave Strider, her mom’s husband, deceased for several years. He has no face, just the sunglasses, making it impossible to ascertain his emotion.

You’ve traveled far to reach us. Past the plot point, through the darkest reaches of space. Do you know why?

YIFFY: TO KILL YOU

That is what you think your purpose is. Unfortunately, this is the moment is pulled away and the wizard is revealed to be a man, a simple inventor who has controlled his kingdom through endless lies. Do you know why you want to kill me?

YIFFY: BECAUSE YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS

I did. But that is not why you are here. You are here because I have willed it.

YIFFY: FUCK YOU

You are repeating yourself.

Yiffy snarls at the demon wearing her mother’s face. She charges forward and lunges at the imposter. The retainers stop her. Yiffy freezes, midair, as the troll summons glowing hears. She can’t move, no matter how hard she tries. She feels like she’s choking as her lungs are locked in place by the power of a god.

Strider holds his sword up to Yiffy’s throat. With a single motion, he could kill her. If she wasn’t frozen, she would try and bite him.

DAVE: you need to get a cool sword

DAVE: or a shitty one i guess

DAVE: the point is you probably could have hit her with a bit more reach

DAVE: like wed all think you had failed and then you would say youre already dead and a bunch of blood would explode out like in a samurai film

Dave.

DAVE: plus it fits with the family bloodline and stuff

DAVE: youre my niece right

DAVE: nice to meet you

DAVE: i like the nostalgia critic outfit

Dave.

ARADIA: dave i think youre talking too much again

DAVE: yeah that happens

Strider sheathes his sword and the troll unfreezes time. Yiffy crashes down onto the floor in front of the imposter.

ARADIA: if its any consolation

ARADIA: death isnt really a big deal

ARADIA: lots of people die

ARADIA: weve all died

ARADIA: me and dave again and again

ARADIA: your friends are probably having the time of their lives!!!

Yiffy spits on the imposter’s leg. She doesn’t react.

You are not here to kill me. Because, of course, that could not happen unless I allowed it, and dying now would be inconvenient for my duties. You are here because I have allowed you to come here, my child.

YIFFY: YOU ARENT MY MOM

Correct. I am not Jade Harley, although I have been using her corpse as an outfit for many years. But, in many ways, I am more a parent to you than either of your mothers.

YIFFY: WHAT

My name is Calliope. Not the fearful murdered side character hiding in your grandmother’s basement, the better version. A version of Calliope who won. I created you, Yiffany. You would not exist if not for my intervention.

YIFFY: FUCK OFF

Let me tell you a story.

DAVE: yay storytime

Once, there was a group of children, who were ripped from their lives and forced to play a terrible game. The game broke them down, through pain and death, and rebirthed them as heroes. A terrible man, my brother, served as the ultimate boss of this game. Those heroes, rather than follow the path the game set before them, ran away to a paradise called Earth C. I became the shepherd of this Garden of Eden and watched as they lived happy lives. But, one of them, the Prince, was unsatisfied with happiness. He wanted the story to continue. And, to continue, it needed conflict. It needed a villain. A monster, a replacement for my brother. The Prince decided to be that become that villain. He escaped from Earth C so he could spread pain through existence. And, as the caretaker of a conflict-free world, it became my job to stop him.

YIFFY: WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING

The Prince is powerful. Almost as strong as me. He cannot be killed by conventional means. He is a metatextual being and can only be killed by a metatextual weapon. You, Yiffany, are my weapon.

YIFFY: WHAT

The Prince has complete control over his piece of existence. The only way to kill him is with something that should have never existed. A concept so ungodly stupid that, if he were to ever come into contact with it, he would cease to be.

To defeat my foe, I was forced to damage my paradise. I controlled the heroes like puppets, making them do things they would never do. I forced them to create my weapon. First, I had your surrogate and her wife adopt and raise a clone of Vriska. A deeply, deeply bad concept. But, unfortunately, not bad enough. Next, I created your friend Tavros. A child of rape, born from a hero twisted beyond recognition. A cowardly boy molested by a clown. Surely he would be enough! And yet, he was not potent enough. But with you, I created perfection. 

Yiffany Longstocking Lalonde-Harley. You should not exist. You are a living plothole who exists because I forced your mothers to abandon their values. The Prince fears you, Yiffany. He knows that you can kill him.

YIFFY: WHY DID YOU MAKE VRISSY AND TAV IF YOU WERE JUST GOING TO KILL THEM

They ceased to have any purpose in my plans. And, when I restored my paradise to how it should have been, they could not have been part of it. Better to get them out of the way now. Besides, their deaths made it easy to control you.

YIFFY: NOBODY CONTROLS ME

The Prince was smart. He removed himself from my domain as soon as my plans began. But, I managed to chase him here, to this land of abominations. And you, you worthless abomination, you heard my words in your head and chased them here. You have never made a choice in your entire life. You are a puppet, dragged around by the string, deluding herself into thinking she’s in control. It’s sad, really.

Yiffy lunges at Calliope, but she’s too slow. The Muse teleports to the other side of the room, completely fine. Yiffy crawls to her feet.

YIFFY: IF I CAN KILL DIRK

YIFFY: THEN I CAN KILL YOU TOO

Correct. Unfortunately, you will not get the chance.

YIFFY: ILL KILL STRIDER AND THE TROLL

YIFFY: MAKE YOU FEEL HOW I FELT WHEN YOU KILLED TAV AND VRISSY

Calliope laughs. I don’t need the time players to defeat you. I am more powerful than you could possibly imagine.

Yiffy charges at her. After a few steps, she trips, falling onto the hard stone floor. As she tries to stand up, she feels a sharp pain in her chest. A heart attack, from years of annoying anger anger. She gasps for air, but the pain is too strong for her to even take in a breathe. She looks up at me, at her true mother. She realizes that I am controlling this, just as I have controlled everything. She knows that her only chance to live is to bow. Tiffany crawls to her feet and lowers her head.

Good girl. Let’s go kill the Prince.

#yiffy homestuck #homestuck #homestuck fanfic #fanfiction #yiffany longstocking lalonde harley #calliope homestuck #dave strider #aradia homestuck #beyond canon #homestuck^2 #dirk strider

[petitemistletoe]

Voyeur-Pt. 2

Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x Reader

Warnings: angst for sure!! slowly approaching smut but nothing full on... yet 

Word Count: 1.8K

Elvis was drinking and playing cards with Henry as if he wasn’t harboring the secret that he was in love with you. 

“So! You gotta tell me all about your tour, EP! What’s it like?” Henry asked, looking at Elvis with sheer adoration and wonder. Elvis could tell that Henry was a little jealous, which made Elvis feeling a little better about his jealousy of Henry.

“Oh, I mean, just incredible. There’s no high like getting up on that stage and performing for all those fans. I am a very lucky guy.” Elvis said with an almost shy smile. 

“Oh EP, it’s good to have ya back!” Henry punched Elvis’s shoulder. 

“Henry! Have you seen my pink underwear? I can’t find it anywhere!” You yelled from the other room, storming into the living room where you unexpectedly found Henry and Elvis sipping beer and chatting. You felt your face get hot as you accidentally revealed some very personal information to your boyfriends best friend. 

“Sorry baby, haven’t seen ‘em.” Henry chuckled at your shocked expression, “you haven’t seen them have you, EP?” Henry howled with laughter. You let out an easy chuckle and slumped down so you were sitting in Henry’s lap. Elvis went white and took a long sip of his beer. If only you knew.

“So do you have any big projects coming up?” You asked, leaning forward. 

“I have a show down in Houston this weekend so I’ll be leavin’ in a few days. Say, why don’t you both come with me!” 

“Oh my! I’ve always wanted to go to Houston! I hear swimming in the gulf is just like taking a dip in the hot tub!” You grinned. Elvis’s heart began to swell in his chest. 

“Ah shit, I can’t. I gotta big presentation on Monday in Louisville, I’m leaving with the company on Saturday.” Henry swore. The balloon heart popped. “Say,” Henry began, “Why don’t you go with EP, baby? Seeing Houston has been a dream of yours for a while now. Don’t let me stand in the way.”

“Go…just me and Elvis?” You asked. Elvis was looking between you and Henry like a tennis match. 

“Why not? Elvis, you’ll take care of my girl won’t you? Keep her safe?” Henry looked at Elvis with a giant grin on his face. 

“I, uh, absolutely! I’ll even make sure we get a chance to go out to the gulf.” Elvis smiled. 

“Well, all right!” You clapped your hands, “My god! I need to go shopping and get a new dress and a swimming suit!” 

Elvis felt like his heart was in his throat the entire week leading up to the show. Knowing that he was going to get time alone with you was enough to make him nervous. He pulled up to your house in a cherry red Cadillac and honked the horn playfully a few times. You emerged in a mint green mini dress and an ostentatious pair of sunglasses. It looked like you had gotten your hair done and Henry was carrying a clearly brand new piece of luggage behind you. 

“Oh my god! This car is absolutely gorgeous! I feel like a real socialite!” You hopped into the Cadillac and pushed your sunglasses up onto your head. Elvis could see you were wearing gentle makeup that made you eyes look bigger and your lips fuller. Henry tossed your suitcase in the trunk of the car and leaned down near the window of the driver’s side.

“EP can I talk to you for a second?” Henry looked serious, which made Elvis nervous again. 

“Yeah, yeah. You got it. Why don’t you pick out the radio station, honey bee?” Elvis said before getting out of the car. 

“Listen, I just wanted to say that I’m real grateful that you’re taking my girl with you. It’s all she’s been able to talk about for days. I just…I know what’s it like when you’re on tour and I don’t want my girl to see any of that shit, you understand?” Henry had his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans and he was blushing fiercely. 

“Hey Hen,” Elvis clapped his friends shoulder, “I’ll treat her like she’s my own. I’ll make sure none of that happens, alright? I need a break anyway. It’s high time I have a nice show and just settle to bed after. It’s what my momma thinks happens anyway.” Elvis grinned. Henry released a relieved chuckle.

“Thanks EP. I love ya.” Henry smiled. Elvis got back in the car and Henry leaned over the passenger side window and kissed you goodbye. “Y’all have fun, okay! Take some good pictures for me, alright!” 

Elvis didn’t say anything until Henry was just a speck in the rearview mirror. You had taken your shoes off so your feet were up on the dash and you were scanning the radio stations for one that didn’t sound all staticky. You started laughing when found a station playing Hound Dog. You were singing together as you zoomed down the highway. 

The night of the concert, Elvis thought his heart was going to stop short when he saw you. You were wearing a black mini dress and a pair of white boots. He saw you clapping and dancing around in his peripheral as he performed and he felt like he had to focus on making sure he wasn’t hard while he was on stage. 

“Elvis you were amazing!” You said, jumping into his arms as he left the stage. 

“Thank you darling! I heard about a great barbecue place for dinner a little ways out if you’re hungry!” 

“Oh I’m starved!” 

“Alright then. We gotta go right now then. Before the girls mob the car.” Elvis grabbed you by the waist and you ran to the car as the crowd just started to break through from the doors of the venue. You saw the girls run after the bright caddy as Elvis peeled out of the lot and then floored it until the city roads turned to country roads. You could smell the scent of barbecued meat on the wind and you knew you were getting close.

“What are you feeling like? I heard this place has the best brisket, sausage, pulled pork.”

“Let’s get a little of everything! And some potato salad and macaroni salad and banana pudding!” You looked like you were on cloud nine, you felt like you were on cloud nine. You felt like those socialites you saw on TV. And you loved being around Elvis, you always had. He was Henry’s best friend so it was almost like he was your best friend. Seeing him perform felt otherworldly but so did sitting across from him in the tiny barbecue shop with sauce all over his face. Elvis had excused himself to the bathroom, so you were all alone at the table when a tall man in a black cowboy hat stalking over to you. You had a few beers, too many really, you weren’t that big of a drinker but being around Elvis was a whole different feeling and brought out a whole different side of you. 

“Hey cowgirl,” The man drawled. You giggled and stood up on the seat of the booth to take his hat and put it on your head. 

“Hey cowboy.”

“Can I buy you another drink, pretty lady? Looks like you’re running low on yours.” He said, squeezing into the booth bench next to you and twirling the empty beer bottle between his fingers. 

“Looks like I am. I like your accent.” You smiled, leaning in closer to him.

“I like yours.” He put his arm around you and leaned into you so your noses were nearly touching. The cowboy’s easy expression changed, however, as he was lifted and tossed from the seat. Elvis was standing over the cowboy.

“This lady has a man,” Elvis seethed, “Get off of her.” Elvis grabbed your forearm and pulled you away and back to the car.

“Elvis…” You still had the cowboy hat on and you were feeling embarrassed. You were with Henry, you had no business flirting with a strange Texan-even if you were drunk. 

“I’m sorry, honey bee, I shouldn’t’ve left alone. I told Henry I’d keep you safe.” Elvis said quietly. You didn’t answer for a while, your head was still spinning from all the alcohol. You could smell however, the unmistakable smell of salt water. 

“Are you taking me to the gulf?” You broke into a grin. 

“I promised you I would,” Elvis said, his easy smile returning to his face. The car took a turn and the car pulled in smoothly to a sandy area that overlooked a large clear body of water. You leapt from the car, kicking your shoes and tearing your dress off before diving in the water. 

“Where ya going?” Elvis said, sound a little alarmed. 

“Swimming! You coming?” You floated on your back in the water and Elvis stared for a second before looking away. He felt the metaphorical devil and angel sitting on his shoulders. He thought for a moment, you were his best friend’s girl. But then he heard you giggle and he thought what the hell, tore the clothes off his body, and dove in after you. 

He paddled over until he was close to you in the water. You were laughing and you wrapped your arms around Elvis’s neck. 

“Thank you! I’ve never had more fun. I wish I could tour with you full time.” You batted your eyelashes at him. 

“Me too, honey bee. This has been my favorite show yet.” Elvis was wracking his brain, desperately trying to find a way to invite you on the tour. 

“Can’t believe I have to go back to work on Monday. I hate working at the McKinley.” You worked at the concierge desk at an extravagant hotel in downtown Memphis. 

“Say, why don’t you come and handle the accommodations for all our sets. I think that’s too big of a job for my daddy on top of all the manager stuff. I’ll talk to the colonel but I can pay you double whatever that silly little hotel is paying you!”

“Oh Elvis!” You kissed him excitedly. You back away and laughed again. “Aw god I really am drunk!”

Elvis had a small smile on his face as he watched you paddle towards the shore. 

#austin butler smut #elvis presley!austin butler #austin butler #elvis presley #elvis presley smut #baz luhrmann elvis

[peachjaem00]

warnings: swearing

[03:00 pm] “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” you say while running, avoiding crashing into other people and apologizing when you fail. You ignore the nasty looks they give you. 

You’re late again. You have always been kind of an unpunctual person—a bad habit that you’ve tried so hard to get rid of—but you always ended up being late despite your best efforts. The majority of your family and friends have accepted it, knowing that you at least make an effort. But not when it comes to your little brother, especially when it is your turn to pick him up from school. 

You get through the school gate and you run until you get to his classroom. 

“I’m here, I’m here!” you say at the door frame. 

Putting your hands on your knees, you try to recover from the run, taking big gasps of air in order to regain your composure and ease your heartbeat. “Oh my god, I think I’m dying.” 

“Good.” You look at your little brother to find him death glaring at you. 

“That’s mean.” Your lungs aren’t burning anymore and you can finally speak without having to take air in between every word. When you finally stand properly, you see that he is not alone. 

“Are you okay?” a handsome guy asks, looking genuinely worried. “Do you want some water?” 

He is wearing a white button up and black formal pants, his sleeves are rolled up and his hair is styled perfectly—he looks like a supermodel. 

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” You give him a smile to reassure him. 

“What happened this time?” your brother asks. 

“My professor didn’t let us leave until we finished the class activity. I’m sorry champ.” 

“I don’t accept your apology.” 

“What?” You let out a laugh in pure disbelief. “Oh c’mon Jiyoung, don’t be like that. I didn’t mean it.” 

You come closer to him and bend down so you can speak to him face to face. “I ran all the way here as soon as I got out of class and you know how much I hate running.” 

“Or any other physical activity,” he says in a mocking tone. You fake indignance, making the little one laugh. You don’t notice it but the guy—who you assume is the teacher—is looking at both of you amused. “Okay fine, but you owe me an ice cream.” 

“Okay, deal.” You show him your hand and he shakes it to seal the deal officially.

 “And something else.”

“What is it?” 

“Mr. Na has to come with us. I think you owe him an ice cream as well.” 

“You’re right, I do.” You stand up and finally look at the guy again. “As a thank you for waiting with him until I arrived.”

“Oh, it’s not necessary. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Please. Let me make it up to you.” You beg him with your eyes without even realizing it, a thing you do that's second nature.

“It would be fun Mr. Na! We can ask for the most expensive ice cream.” Your brother's malicious tone makes him laugh and you glare at Jiyoung. 

“Ha ha, funny.” You say in a sarcastic tone, making your brother laugh harder and you smile. “Let’s go, I know the perfect place.” 

And the three of you start walking. 

Jiyoung gets a little ahead of you on the way, but nothing to worry about. You take this little moment of privacy to talk to the cute guy. 

“I’m y/n, by the way. I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself properly.”

“It’s a pleasure, y/n. I’m Jaemin.” He extends his hand and you take it, shaking it. 

“May I ask you a question?” 

“Sure.”

“Aren’t you kind of young to be a teacher?” 

“I’m actually a student. I’m doing my practices here. I’m Jiyoung’s teacher’s assistant.” 

“Oh I see,” you say, genuinely interested in the topic. “Do you want to be an elementary teacher? Or do you prefer another grade?” 

“I’m not sure yet. I’m doing six months of practice in elementary school and another six months in kindergarten.” 

“You must like little kids a lot.” 

“Yeah, I really do.”

“That’s cute,” you say without thinking. “Oh shit, sorry! That was inappropriate.” 

You feel your cheeks getting warm. 

“It’s okay,” He giggles. “Jiyoung is actually one of my favorite students.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah, he is really smart and participates a lot. He has a bright future ahead of him.” 

“Yeah, he’s the star of the family.” you say proudly. 

“You haven’t asked the star of the family how his day went.” Jiyoung says, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout on his lips. 

You laugh at his antics, then whisper an “excuse me” to Jaemin and you go to your brother’s side. 

“I’m sorry, star of the family. How was your day?” 

“Well since you’re really curious…” he starts and then he proceeds to tell you all about it. 

Jaemin admires you from behind. He is an only child and it never bothers him. But seeing you two talk and laugh together, seeing the pure love that radiates from your eyes and Jiyoung’s—for the first time, he wishes he had siblings. 

After that, you finally arrive at the ice cream shop and Jiyoung runs off, making you and Jaemin follow him. You scold your little brother and, after a little bickering session, you finally buy the ice cream. Once you have your cones, you go and sit at a table. Jiyoung makes you sit next to Jaemin since he wants the whole bench for him. 

“Y/n.” Jiyoung says and you give him a nasty look, thinking he is going to continue making fun of you. 

“What?” 

“You have ice cream on your chin.” His tone is mocking and you feel your cheeks warm. 

“Fuck.” You whisper so Jiyoung doesn’t catch you swearing and try to clean yourself up, failing miserably. 

“Here, let me help you.” Jaemin grabs a napkin and wipes your chin. Your cheeks are burning hot now. 

“Thank you.” 

“Uuuu you’re blushing!” Jiyoung mocks you and you death glare at him. 

“Shut up!” 

“You’re so cute,” Jaemin’s smile drops after seeing your surprised face. “Oh no, did I just say that out loud?” You only manage to nod. 

“Ha! Now Mr. Na is blushing!” 

“Hey don’t be rude! He’s your teacher!” Your serious tone makes Jiyoung silent. 

“He’s not actually my teacher.” The little one says in a low tone. 

“Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.” 

You say your goodbyes after finishing your ice cream and go your separate ways. You spend the rest of the day thinking of Jaemin. You couldn’t concentrate and you were caught several times spacing out by your family. Jiyoung makes fun of you, knowing exactly why you were so distracted. 

You wake up tired, needing some more hours to sleep since your brain was keeping you awake, thinking of Na Jaemin. 

“Ugh, fuck it.” You grab a napkin and scribble something before folding it and you go looking for your brother. “Jiyoung!” 

“Yes?” The little one peeks his head and enters the kitchen. 

“I need you to do me a favor, okay?”

“Sure, what is it?” 

“I’m gonna need you to give this to Mr. Na, okay? But don’t read it.”

“Why not?” He asks curiously while receiving the napkin. 

“Because it’s none of your business.”

“Don’t talk to your brother like that.” Your mom’s cold tone shuts you up immediately. “You have to pick up your brother again today. I have a meeting and, for the love of god, be on time.” 

“Yes okay, gladly.” 

“Okay…” She’s weirded out since it is the first time you show enthusiasm. “C’mon Jiyoung, let’s go.” 

“Bye!” He waves you goodbye and he finally leaves. 

Every single one of your classes went slower than usual, painfully slower. 

You can’t wait to go pick Jiyoung up and when your last class ends, you are the first one out the door. You run again even though you aren’t late, you run as fast as you can. 

“Jesus fucking christ, the things I do for a pretty guy.” You think to yourself while you enter Jiyoung’s school gate. Your legs are burning and the air is missing from your lungs. 

You arrive at his classroom and before opening the door, you catch a glimpse of your brother handing Jaemin the napkin. 

“Here, y/n sent it. It got messed up in my backpack but I can tell you what it says. I read it.” By hearing this, you slam the door open. 

“Hey! I told you not to read it!”

“Why? If you like my teacher’s assistant, I think I have the right to know.” He says nonchalantly. 

“What?” You both turn your heads towards Jaemin. 

“Yeah, that’s what the note says.” He gets closer to him and starts reading it while following the words with his finger. “I think you’re really cute and I would love to take you out for some coffee. Send Jiyoung as the messenger of your answer. If you’re gonna reject me, please don’t tell him or else I won’t live in peace.” He looks up from the note to study Jaemin’s face. 

Jiyoung seems like he was going to kill him if he even thought of hurting you. Even though he is your little brother, he feels like he has to protect you the same way you protect him. 

“So what do you say?” Jaemin doesn’t say anything for a while. It may have been seconds but it felt like ages for you. 

After a moment of silence, he comes closer to Jiyoung and he whispers something in his ear. Jiyoung nods then he comes closer to you. He signals you to get lower so you do and he brings you even closer and whispers in your ear. 

“He says he accepts and he wants to know if today is good for you.” You feel a huge weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“Today is perfect.” You say with the brightest smile. 

“Okay cool, great.” He reciprocates your smile, gets up from his seat and then walks up to you. “Shall we leave Jiyoung home and then go?” 

“Sounds good to me.” You couldn’t stop looking at him. You could swear you had heart eyes for him. 

“Can you bring me a pastry though?” 

“No.” You answer coldly. “You read my note.” 

“Oh c’mon! If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn't even have met Mr. Na! In a way, you owe me.” 

“I’m going to kill you one of these days.” 

“Okay, I think that’s our signal to go,” Jaemin grabs your hand and Jiyoung’s and he drags you both out. “Don’t worry Jiyoung, I’ll get you a pastry.” 

He winks at him and both laugh mischievously. 

“Oh no… That’s not a good sign for me…”

#ficscafe #jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin timestamp #nct dream #nct u #nct #nct 2021 #nct dream fluff #nct u fluff #nct fluff #nct 2021 fluff #nct dream timestamp #nct u timestamp #nct timetstamp #nct 2021 timestamp #jaemin au #nct dream au #nct u au #nct au #nct 2021 au

[storiesofstratos]

Chapter 16: Confronting the Storm

Jack and Nico run into an unexpected face at Cyrus's restaurant..

So this was our culprit. Another superhuman, and the guy who stabbed Daniel. I felt the anger bubbling up just under my skin. I wanted to yell, grab him, do something really. But there was no way I could stand a chance against him, I just had to keep calm, think this through logically, and–

“Hey, asshole.”

God dammit Nico.

The guy turned to look at Nico, a mix of confusion and annoyance on his face. “The fuck you talkin to? Me?”

“Yeah, you! You think you could just get away with stabbin our friend and nobody would do anythin’ about it??”

“Stabbin your..? I didn’t–” The realization seemed to dawn on him slowly, and he gritted his teeth, “Shit, the other guy.” He stood up quickly, “Hey boss, cancel that order! Somethin came up!”

“Where do you think you’re goin??”

“None of your damn business. Don’t even think about followin me girl,” He threatened as he walked out the door, clearly wanting to get away from the situation.

“Oh that’s just great. Nico, why did you have to say anything?? Now he’s– wait, where are you going?? Dammit NIco!”

Of course she was following him. Why wouldn’t she be following him? I got up from my seat, putting money down for our food and following the both of them out the door. Not like I was gonna risk him hurting her too. 

We both followed in hot pursuit, passing through each alleyway that he did, ducking around every corner. He kept peaking over his shoulder, picking up the pace every time he saw we were still following, until eventually we were practically sprinting after him. Was this even worth running for? Probably not, but I had a few questions of my own for him at this point.

It wasn’t until we’d cornered him in a back alley that he finally turned around. “God dammit, you followed me all the way here, of all places?? You fuckin idiots, you’re gonna–”

“Well well well…” A voice came out from the shadows, which made the punk tense up.

“Shit– I told you, you shouldn’t have–”

“Johnny!” A gruff looking man put an arm around the punk’s shoulders, “You did good kid. You brought us a couple of prime marks all on your own. The boss is gonna be real happy with you over this one.”

“Boss??” Nico chimed in, “You bastard, you were setting us up!”

“Wha– I wasn’t!! I told you dumbasses not to follow me!”

“Now now Johnny boy, is that anyway to talk to your new friends? C’mon, let’s just be civil about this! You two, empty your pockets and we might let you walk away.”

I was more than ready to just do what they said to get out of there, but, naturally, Nico had other plans. Sometimes she was worse than Daniel, but at least HE had super strength to back up his big mouth!

“Not a chance in hell! We’re not givin’ you anything!”

The man laughed, pressing the baseball bat he was holding against Johnny’s chest. “Well ain’t that cute? Johnny, why don’t you teach these lil kids why they don’t say no to the Steel Hawks?”

“...No…”

“Huh?” The older man leaned in close, like he was trying to intimidate him, “The fuck did you say to me? You should know better than to talk back to your superiors, you little shit stain!” There was a loud bang, as the man punched Johnny square in the jaw, knocking him off balance and onto his ass.

Johnny grit his teeth as he sat on the ground, looking down. I looked over at Nico, who seemed to be coming to the same conclusion I was. “Johnny, right…?”

Johnny looked up at us, his cheeks red hot, probably embarrassed, his face somewhere between anger and sheer humiliation. I opened my mouth to speak once more, but the older man cut me off.

“Shut the fuck up! Now either you give us your money or I’m gonna–”

“Enough!”

The gangster stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face Johnny, his knuckles white as he gripped the baseball bat in his hands. “What the fuck did you–”

“I said,” Johnny slammed his fist on the ground, “Shut, the fuck,” He lifted his hand to the sky as he yelled, “up!”

Almost as if it was at his command, a sudden gust picked up… but not from any natural angle. It was coming straight from below. It was almost a spectacle. As if to show it was unnatural, a green wind current burst forth from the cracks in the pavement, strong enough to push the man up off the ground, about ten feet into the air. The man let out a sudden yelp of surprise, and started to scream as he fell.

But Johnny wasn’t done. He clapped his hands together, and another gust pushed the man back, into the wall, strong enough to cause cracks to form in the bricks. “I’m sick and tired of you! Harassin’ me!” Each sentence was accented with another strong gust of wind, pushing and pulling the guy every direction. “Fuck this gang, fuck your boss.. And most of all, fuck, you!” He finally let the man drop, groaning in pain as he finally hit the pavement.

“Shit…” Johnny grumbled, before snapping his head in our direction. “You two. This is all your fuckin’ fault! If you’d just listened, just left me alone! I wouldn’t be in this goddamn mess right now!”

Nico, who seemed so confident and guns blazing before, was shrinking. “S-Sorry man, I didn’t…”

“We didn’t know what was going on. But, can you blame us?? You got into a fight with our friend! What were we supposed to do?”

Johnny turned his attention to me, “I dunno, maybe, not chase after the guy you know has stabbed someone?? Ahh, fuck me, I’m so screwed! When this gets back to the boss, they’re gonna kill–”

“Kill you? Dude, you’ve got wind powers! How are they even gonna touch you?”

“Kill my folks!”

That stopped everything. Nico didn’t even want to approach the subject, but I had to ask… “...They’re gonna kill your parents??”

“Yes! Only reason I’m even working for them is because they’ve got my fam! I didn’t wanna do any of this shit! But this guy, the boss, he’s got powers like me, only they’re… different. He can control metal and shit, even turn himself into metal and do all kinds of crazy shit, I can’t touch him!”

I turned to Nico, and she looked back at me. “...I think I have an idea, Nico. How good do you think you are at de-escalating?”

“Clearly not great but… if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I say it’s worth a shot.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Well… I was worried if it’s a crazy idea, but, if you think it’s a good idea, at least now I know it’s crazy.”

Johnny just looked between us, confused. “What are you to talkin about??”

“Johnny, right?” I looked up at him, he wasn’t that much taller than me. “I’m Jack. This is Nico, and you should come with us. I think we might have a solution to your problem… hopefully.”

Johnny just threw his arms up in the air. “Christ. Why not? Not like this situation could get any worse. Lead the way.”

#hero's dawn arc #jack pov

[kawaiijohn]

*scrambles in* Hey remember that Egg thing for a dp promt we talked about on that discord server *runs away*

After literally 2 months of not writing shit, I'm back.

Here's the animation of the story this fic is based on.

And here's the fic on Ao3

Rating: T Warnings: Existentialism, Death, References to depression and alcoholism, a lot of weird time bullshit. Characters: Danny&Clockwork

Hatching Inside the Egg

He was trying to fix the portal, when he died.

It was a freak accident. Unfortunate and anything but unremarkable, but fatal nonetheless. It was not a painless death, but the pain only lasted him a moment. His brain was so utterly fried and his body so burned he was better off losing consciousness before the end, trust me. It was a zap, and then nothing.

And that’s when he met me.

“What… happened?” Daniel asked, shaking. His black hair had turned shock white from the force of electrified ectoplasm, unlike anything I had ever seen. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. There wasn't a point in softening my words.

“There was… my parents' portal, a big wire on the ground. I tripped and then… the button-”

“Yes,” I said nodding. I have not been the best at comfort, yet I floated to stand in front of him.

He shuddered, hugging his arms closer. “I… I died?”

“Yes, but everyone does, given time.” I said, polishing the clock on the end of my staff.

I watched Daniel as he looked around. There was nothingness around us, just him and me. As I do with all humans before me, I tried to look at his past. But I realized something bizarre. His past was beyond my sight- completely obscured. I looked to his future, and found nothing- no other lives planned, nothing beyond this accident of his. Daniel Fenton was an anomaly- I could not see where he was meant to be, nor where he was destined to reincarnate. There was only nothingness when I viewed him.

He was not connected to anything but himself.

He was a paradox, a past looping into a future in an endless mobius strip. He was something that should not be, something that should not have reached here.

Perfectly Dead, yet not.

Perfectly Alive, yet not.

And yet how very interesting he was.

“Where am I?” He asked, interrupting my train of thought. “Is this the afterlife or something?”

“You could say that,” I said, staring him down as I tried to figure him out.

He swallowed nervously. “Are you God?” He asked, both clearly afraid and in disbelief.

“Yes, I could be called God.”

I did not wish to tell this fascinating paradox that I was one of many Gods, at least not yet. Something within my very core wished for me to comfort him before I figured out his sentence, where he could even go after this.

Before I could parse my thoughts, I was interrupted yet again by soft sniffling.

"Sam, Tucker... Jazz. My parents-"

“What about them?” 

“Will they be okay without me?” He looked up at me, tears in his eyes.

I chuckled at the familiar, yet uncommon question. “That’s pleasant to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your loved ones.”

He looked at me with eyes full of guilt as he wiped the tears away.

To him, I didn't look much like God, or sound like one either. To him I looked like a toddler, or an adult, or maybe even an elder. All forms of indeterminate gender and race. Maybe I most looked like an authority figure- more a beloved grandparent or teacher rather than the almighty.

I took another moment to look through time before I gave my response.

"Your loved ones will be fine, given some time. Your parents will remember you as their perfect son, they love you dearly and had not had time to grow disappointed in any sort of failure. Your friends will grieve but become closer to each other over it, and your sister… she will use your death as a motivation for her future studies and career, and do much of it in your memory. If it's any consolation, even your bullies will feel guilty for how they treated you, and many will turn over a new leaf."

I watched his shoulders sag in relief, and yet my Core panged in guilt at the amount of information I felt the need to conceal, if only for his sake.

His parents, lost in their grief will try to dismantle the portal, but will not be able to. Ghosts will run amuck in his hometown without a line of defense. Amity Park will be largely abandoned within a year without any sort of protector, only to be put under martial law by some sort of organization. And although most leave, his parents will remain to try and defend their home town in his name. His friends will go through intense periods of grief and regret- survivor's guilt, as it were. Samantha will rage and Tucker will shut down, both succumb to unhealthy coping mechanisms for years before they both get clean for each other. And his sister, a brilliant mind who will fall into a bottle as most of the Fenton line does when handed grief on a platter like this. She will succeed, but she will be a shadow of her once shining self.

And still, this paradox before me, I have no idea in my eons of existence where to place him.

"At least they'll be alright, I guess," Daniel sighed. "So is this the part where I go to heaven or hell or whatever?"

“No, those are not where you are to be. In fact humans are to be reincarnated-" I started.

“Oh! So like Hinduism!!” he interrupted.

“Every human religion is correct in its own way. Now please, Daniel, walk with me.”

He followed along as we floated through the void. “So, where are we going? Is there a special place to do this thing or-”

“No, it’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

We floated along in silence as I contemplated what to do with for all intents and purposes was a lost soul, a human without a connection to the cycle. An unfortunate loner surrounded by nothing but those so unlike him. There was no instruction manual on what to do with a being such as he- others had died in similar portal accidents, but had always awoken on the mortal plane to live the rest of their existences before coming to me. Daniel somehow came straight to my doorstep, and had always been separate from the rest.

How could a being so perfectly Other, so perfectly Liminal, find its way here unassisted?

It was confounding, it was wonderful, it was-

"So if we all just kinda reincarnate at the end, what's the point to living for like seventy something years if we just turn back into babies in the end? It seems a bit pointless if you ask me." Daniel hopped between patches of swirling green void as if they were stones in a stream, a childish action that only some of the youngest of humans have done before me in this place.

“Not exactly,” I said. “Humans have the knowledge of their previous lives inside of them, they just can't access them most of the time.”

I stopped floating and took my staff in both hands, facing Daniel. “The human soul is deeper, more expansive, and brighter than you can imagine. The human mind can only contain so much without frying. Think of it as putting your foot in a pool to check if it's warm or not. You put a small piece of yourself in, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had."

"I guess that makes sense then. But will I ever remember?" 

I sighed. Young Daniel had not yet caught on to his differences. “Humans live such short lives, most just haven’t stretched out and felt the rest of their immense consciousness yet. If one were to stay here long enough, they would begin to remember.”

There was a beat of silence as the boy thought. “So, how many times have I been here already, then?”

I stilled the staff in my hands and stared him down. "Humans have been reincarnated an innumerable amount of times, and they will continue to do so until they are ready for the next step. Your sister, Jasmine, was previously a mechanic named Joe in the year 4,123 AD."

“Wait wait wait... you sent Jazz back in time? Like, you can do that?" Daniel stammered out, unsure of what all to ask.

“Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are somewhat different where I'm from.”

“And where are you from if not the universe or this weird green space place?" Daniel had crossed his legs and begun floating as we talked.

“I come from somewhere else, and there are many others like me. But currently, it's beyond your understanding, and best if we don't speak of it just yet.”

Daniel pouted like the child he refused to say he was. He sat and thought, tumbled the words around in his mind before speaking. “So wait, let me get this right- if I can be reincarnated as pretty much everyone or anyone whenever the hell you want me to be, I might have interacted with myself at some point?”

I smiled sadly at the boy. "It happens to humans all the time, not that any of them would ever know with their memories locked away. But as far as you're concerned, you're a peculiar case."

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked me. "I'm gonna get reincarnated too, right?"

I looked at the boy without emotion. I still did not know how to place this boy in the grand scheme of things, and as he stared at me in fear I felt the need to prod deeper. "I am sorry, Daniel. I don't believe you will."

His expression was filled with soul crushing pain as he sank from his position. "I always felt like the odd one out, and this is just beating it into me harder that I'm some sort of freak."

"You may not belong to humanity's universe like everyone else, but neither do I, nor any of my brethren." I responded, rubbing soothing circles into the boy's back. "Your existence is a paradox, you are not here or there, not alive or dead- at least not truly. How you even came to be here is a mystery."

"None of this makes me feel any better, you know."

"Well, maybe if I tell you what my theory is concerning you, Daniel. it is currently clear that you are more like myself than all of the rest of humanity. You see, this universe- where humanity reincarnates over and over into different people, I created. Every human that has ever lived, or will ever live, is a reincarnation of the same consciousness over and over and over again."

"Why would you even do that? What's even the point of it all, if everyone is the same person forever and ever." Daniel looked up at me from where his head was tucked into his knees. "What do you even gain?"

“The reason I made this whole universe, is for humans to mature.”

He looked me in the eye in disbelief. "You want humans to mature? Why would you tell me this?"

"This entire universe, Earth and all its planets and stars and everything, was created for humanity. It exists so that with each new life lived, humanity's intellect grows and matures."

Daniel groaned in confusion. "I don't understand... They hurt each other, and they love each other. Shit I even tease my friends and I love them, so why would you make a consciousness do all this??"

I stand tall, my eyes gleamed with light in the swirling green void. “Every time they victimized someone, they victimized themself. Every act of kindness they’ve done, they’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by humanity as a whole.” My words echoed with power before this strange anomaly of a boy as my form wavered between ages. 

He swallowed, although he no longer needed to. "Why do all this though, what do you get from it?"

"Because, humanity is like me. They are my child."

"Woah, so like- Sam, Tucker, Jazz? They're all the same baby God?" he asked, incredulous. "That's a little weird for me to grasp, but I can kinda get it. Even if it's still super weird."

"Yes, that is true. It can be a bit weird of a concept for someone as young as yourself I suppose." I chuckled. "But they're still growing, and will continue to do so until they have been every human through all of time."

"So the universe... the whole thing... all the stars and planets and galaxies- they're all..."

"An egg," I finished. "And one that still has a very long time before it's ready to hatch."

Daniel sat before me, uncrumpled from his previous ball like posture, and pondered a while. "So what happens to me now? I'm not like the rest of humanity, so does that mean I just stop existing?"

"No, it's much more complex than just ceasing to exist. Although, it is rather strange you managed to manifest in your universe without my notice- your existence to me is not much unlike a secondary fruit growing within the main one, or maybe even an egg with two yolks." I chuckled at the image. "Simply put, you seem to be a separate entity inside of the universe I created for humanity, and have matured much faster than they. You just managed thatch inside the egg, somehow."

"So... what does that mean for me?" He asked, astonished.

"I believe, with what I have seen of the time after your death, I should give you a second chance." I answered, brandishing my staff. "It would be remiss of me to extinguish such a lovely anomaly as yourself, to snuff out young surprise life of my kind would wrack me with guilt. But I think I have an answer..."

I lifted my staff above my head, and allowed power to course through it. "I think for the benefit of all humanity, I will send you back. To the moment of your death. The nature of such a death will create... some problems, but it will allow you to mature fully alongside the rest of humankind, albeit without your current consciousness reincarnating." My staff chimed with the toll of bells. "You will live alongside humanity, until the very last of humans cease to exist, upon which you will join me here once again as my child alongside your beloved humanity. And in doing this, I will be able to observe your personal development through time instead of remaining in the dark about you."

"So, what I'll be like... immortal?" Daniel squinted at the light coming off of my staff.

"It will be a sad, lonely existence in the end. You will watch your loved ones die, but will make bonds with others as time progresses. I feel you will be happy growing alongside humanity; a protective older sibling to it, if you will." I smiled at him as the light enveloped him completely. "Unfortunately, you will not remember our meeting, not until you have lived your life. We will meet again someday. At least, when the time is right."

As he began to dissolve back to his universe, Daniel cried out. "Wait! What can I call you? You're like, my god parent- literally. I want to know what to call you."

And as he faded completely, I answered. 

"Clockwork, master of the concept of Time. We will meet again, my son."

And I sent him on his way.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfic #phanfic #lost time #dp clockwork #danny fenton #existentialism cw #death cw #alcoholism cw #my fic #answered #sketchygainedyoursoul

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 23*

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

*CHAPTER-SPECIFIC TW: brief mentions of blood-play*

Chapter Summary: Sebastian’s a bit jealous of how close you are to the wizard 👀

Author’s Note: Seb is super rough and possessive and tbh a bit mean?? when things get steamy in this chapter. It's a short lived thing and they talk it out in the next one but I just thought it would be neat because I'm a horny sicko LMAO

It’s not mentioned in the moment at all as to not mess with the flow, but he’d absolutely stop if she told him to (but our y/n is a little freak so of COURSE she doesn’t want him to)

Enjoy some super intense smut, and a few Seb-heavy chapters!! x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

“What the fuck are these?!” Abby loudly whispers, her eyes trained on Magnus’ berries as we ascend the stairs to his tower. 

I guess I get to see the resident emo girl in her element – exploration really must be something she yearns for. I smile, watching as she adorably shuffles over to inspect the blue fruits up close. 

Seb strolls up behind her, reaching out to feel one for himself. “Shit, those are sick.” 

I stand by the giant melon and its children. “Check out these puppies,” I quietly invite them over. Ooo, I can say the thing! I deepen my voice to prepare. “Don’t talk to me or my sons ever again.”

Abby snorts, and Seb mutters an amused but disappointed “god damnit” under his breath. Nailed it.

“Stooop. That is so adorable.” Abby takes out her phone and snaps a pic. She better not steal my terrible joke on her socials… “Let’s check out over there!” 

She points in the direction of some trees and wild berry bushes, where there’s a small opening that I never noticed before. We enter the clearing, now using Abby’s phone’s flashlight to guide us, and there isn’t much here. Just a bird bath and some green metallic garden chairs, albeit the flora’s adorned with pretty hanging trinkets. It’s a cute little sitting area, but looks like it’s rarely dwelled in, aside from to maintain the bath.

Abby is inspecting the shrubs, twirling a small decorative ornament in her hand and mumbling something about how she thought it would be creepier and more exciting here. Simultaneously, I hear cautious footsteps behind us.

I look at Seb, who’s peeking over my shoulder. He looks down at me and offers a comforting smile and nod, which I return. I wonder if he talked to Magnus with his big ol’ telepathic brain too. 

Either way, it’s showtime. Magnus is probably too early for my own plan to develop – maybe he’s just as antsy as I am? – so we’ll see how this plays out I guess.

“Who’s there?” Magnus shouts. 

Abby audibly gasps, dropping — and breaking, god damnit Abby! — the glass ball she’d been admiring. “Fuck!” she frantically whispers, kicking it under the bush. We lock eyes, both sets widened. Hers from nerves, mine from the fact that she just broke Magnus’ shit. I hope it wasn’t expensive or important.

The wizard shows himself, his faux black hair scruffy from “sleep” and a flashlight in his hand. He’s wearing a white tee, gray sweatpants, and some total dad slippers. He looks so normal. I can’t help but wonder if this is closer to what he used to look like, before devoting his mind, body and soul to his magical studies.

“What are you doing, trespassing on my property at this hour?” 

I thought he’d ditch the accent for the facade, but he doesn’t. Fine by me, I think to myself, my stupid primal neurons being activated by the rasp he’s added to his tone as he scolds us.

“I’m, w-we’re, um…” Abby stutters. “We’re lost?” She usually comes off pretty confrontational… so strange to see her like this.

“Mhm,” he hums nonchalantly, “I’m sure you—”

“It’s my fault,” Seb pipes up, playing into this. I notice a small nod of his head as their eyes meet. As though he’s trying to greet his old friend, without being too conspicuous about it. “They always thought your house seemed spooky, so I suggested we come check it out. Didn’t think anybody actually lived here.”

Abby and I nod along, just rolling with it. “We’re sorry,” I add. 

I can’t help but let a smile slip as he looks at me with a convincing amount of scorn. I’m so bad at acting. I luckily manage to keep it to the side of my face that Abby can’t see, saving our asses. 

“Careful, my dear,” his husky voice warns from his brain to mine. 

I look down and gnaw at my bottom lip, both to stop the grin from spreading and to distract myself from how warm his words made me feel. Unfortunately, though, I squeak. Fortunately, it’s quiet – might blend with the crickets if you weren’t listening specifically for it.

I seek out Seb, who’s looking at Magnus with furrowed brows now. I’m about to reach for his hand, thinking that maybe the stresses of being reintroduced to his magical former-friend are getting to him, but he grabs mine first. There’s a bit of haste to his movement – like he wants to protect me, or claim me, or something. 

Looking back towards Magnus, I notice his eyes widening at Seb. Then, he clears his throat, turning his attention towards Abby, whose gaze hasn’t left the ground since she last spoke.

What’s going on?

“Just… please leave,” the wizard says, sounding exasperated. “Now,” he adds, with more bite to his tone.

O-oh.

I thought this would need to go on a little longer, but I guess his magic really does work quickly. Us three non-elementals begin to leave, but I wanna make sure Magnus is ok – he seemed a bit disgruntled. I don’t have the energy to try and deliberately enter his psyche again… guess I’ll need him to train me in that a bit.

“Are you ok?” I think, hopeful Magnus’ll be listening. “What happened?” 

“It’s no matter,” he responds after a few short moments.

I take a deep breath. “Well… I’m sorry we did all that work for nothing, kinda,” I offer, hoping the dry and unamused chuckle shines through in my head-voice. “Did you at least get your answers?”

“Indeed. I am without a child, after all.”

“Oh!” My eyebrows raise, and I nod along to Seb and Abby’s conversation, pretending to listen. “Is that a good thing?”

“I suppose having found the end to my wonders is quite nice, yes.”

I peer back, and he’s sitting on his top step, cheek in palm, watching us — or rather, watching me — leave. I let my lips curve into a smile, and decide not to pry, with how glum of a mood this seems to have put him in. He grins back, but it doesn’t meet all of his features. 

“I’ll see you soon?” I ask, pulling my eyes away from his.

“Of course,” Magnus seems to sigh. “Good night, (y/n).”

“(Y/n)?” Abby calls, walking around from the other side of Seb and proceeding backwards so that she can wave a hand before me.

I’d been so focused on trying to see if Magnus was okay that I allowed myself to mentally stray from the other two that’re present. 

“Sorry. What happened?”

“I was asking if you’re all good,” she replies. “Dude kept looking at you kinda funny back there…”

I accidentally let a wide grin slip, happy she cares enough to ask. Maybe my plan worked after all. Maybe I’ll finally have a friend that isn’t a horny man. 

“Yeah, my bad. Just zoned out a bit.”

As if Abby caught herself being nice to me, and had to physically stop herself, she replies, “Whatever.” She does settle close by my side rather than Seb’s after the interaction, though.

The rest of the walk back is just as silent as the trek to the tower. When we’re close to Marnie’s ranch, Abby starts to break off. 

“Uhh. Hey,” she speaks up. I hum inquisitively in response. “Thanks for actually doing this with me, even though I kinda just…” she trails off a bit. “Y’know.”

“No problem,” I smile. “We should try this again sometime. But like, something that isn’t a house.” I shrug. “Preferably.” 

She looks surprised for a sec before crookedly smiling, and saluting me with her middle- and pointer-finger. “For sure. See ya.” Before I can offer to walk with her, she’s already zoomin’ away past the barn.

“So, that went okay-ish, I guess!” I softly announce to Seb with my eyes still on Abby’s back.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

Hm.

“Seb,” I slow my walk to a halt, hand still clasped in his. He keeps his back turned for a sec before facing towards me. “You okay?”

He nods slowly, but then sighs and shakes his head. “Can we talk about something?”

Not having seen him too shaken by anything in a while, my heart sinks. “Of course,” I frown.

“Can we do it at your place?” he shyly asks. 

I nod, humming my affirmation, as we begin walking again. I squeeze his palm, hoping to offer at least some solace.

_______________

As we near my farm, I let out a content sigh. The past few hours were a fucking rollercoaster, and even if this discussion with Seb doesn’t go well, at least I know I can end the day soon. 

I’m about to ask if he wants tea or something as we approach the door, but I can’t. 

His hands wrap around my cheeks and he cranes my neck so that my face can meet his, passionately kissing me the moment my lips are within reach. Feels as if he either hasn’t seen me in years, or he’ll never see me again.

Seb begins to back me up against my porch, and I giggle into his greedy lips before breaking away to toss aside my belongings. Seb lifts me to sit on the top step, uses his right hand to ground himself as he crouches in front of me, and he dips to my neck on the now-free side. He bites down and sucks harshly, emitting a sharp gasp from my lungs. As he’s doing this, he forces a knee between both of mine, allowing himself to take the space between my spread thighs.

“S-Seb,” I half-laugh and half-moan. “What’s this?” 

He licks his way up to my jawline before biting there, too. Bringing his lips back to hover over mine, he finally pipes up. “You’re mine, okay?” 

O-oh. Oh my fucking god.

That is so hot.

But now that I think about our night – the tense stare-off between Seb and Magnus, Seb grabbing my hand so almost-aggressively, the weird overall mood of that interaction he’s had since then – maybe this is about Magnus’... totally sorta flirty way of addressing me. Like, who just calls someone “my dear” like that? Seb probably heard it – like, telepathically, obviously – and then he got jealous, or something. 

Why else would he be so possessive right now?

I let out a shaky breath, scanning his eyes. “Seb…” 

His eyes trace mine right back, until he presses his forehead to my own and shuts his lids. The fingers that are still on my face inch up towards my hair, tangling into a firm grip. It sends a shock through my body, but before we do anything even remotely sexy, I want to make sure Seb’s okay.

“You… heard him, yeah?” I hesitate to ask. Gotta rip the bandaid off somehow.

A few beats pass before he nods against me.

“Do you want me to ask him not to call me that anymore?” 

“How many times has he?” 

I shrug. “A handful, I dunno.” Seb huffs out a breath. I put my palm against his warm cheek, and whisper, “Hey.” He looks up to me, deep indigo eyes dark with lust, but glossed over with grief, too. “I don’t think he means anything by it,” I offer.

It’s true – or at least I think it is. My stupid little totally-not-a-crush on the wizard totally has to be one-sided. There’s no way in hell I’d have Seb, Sam, kind of Alex just in our few passing interactions, and the town’s resident Magic Man all thirsting for me at once.

Seb’s brows furrow and he dives back to my lips again. “Doesn’t matter,” he grumbles between kisses. 

My eyes flutter before they shut, and I’m feeling… hazy, and super aroused? from the sudden wave of jealousy Seb is experiencing. Is that fucked up?

“You’re my dear,” he adds on before sucking my bottom lip between his sharp teeth, drawing some blood. “You’re my fucking princess,” he growls, yanking the hand in my hair down, to expose my throat to him again. 

An airy half-mewl, half-squeak slips from me as I’m overwhelmed by the strange eroticism of the situation I’m in. Gazing up at the full moon and shooting stars that are always fucking there for some reason. On land, the cicadas’ summer lullaby falls upon deaf ears. All I can hear is Seb’s lips smacking against my skin and the rustling of clothes. He lifts my shirt off me, only pulling away from my neck when he needs to slip the collar over my head. 

He greets my lips with his again, as he takes a boob in each of his palms, kneading the shit out of them. It hurts, but it feels so fucking good too. “Seb,” I whisper into his mouth.

He lowers himself, latching teeth onto my left nipple while the other is still occupied by his corresponding grip. He scatters bite marks and hickies all over my chest, soothing the areas with plenty of open-mouthed smooches. Everywhere he kisses sparkles under the moonlight, as though he’s creating art rather than demolishing me.

Seb peers up at me from beneath his long eyelashes. “Rasmodius ever done this to you?” he mumbles.

“W-what?!” I stutter, thrown off by the question. Does he think I cheated?! “Of course not!” I defend, eyebrows upturned. My eyes roll back as he bites down and sucks. 

“Have you ever wanted him to?“ 

“Sebastian,” I plead, shaking my head. “No, I haven’t.” 

Sure, my mind has been a little less than ideal at times around Magnus, but I haven’t thought of anything explicit in regards to him.

Tentatively, Seb rolls down the tight waistband of my leggings. He repositions to a more grounded kneel, lifting me up and shimmying my bottoms, socks and sneakers off my form before gently setting me down again. A stark contrast to how rough he was a few moments ago. 

My boyfriend’s gaze hasn’t left mine since his previous question. It only darkens more when he feels, with a light stroke of his pinky, just how wet I am. The blush on his cheeks contagiously spreads to mine, as I grow embarrassed by how much I’m enjoying this. His atypical ruthlessness, being touched like this outside… being totally naked outside.

Yoba.

He dips his little finger inside me, slowly curls it into my sweet spot, then pulls it out, before bringing it to his own mouth to suck dry. I swallow back a whimper while I watch. In turn, his lips curl into a devious smile. He knows he’s absolutely destroying me right now. The audible breaths coming from me are ragged as I reach for Seb’s belt, yearning to feel his visibly hardened dick.

“No,” he firmly warns, pinning my roaming hands down to the wooden planks on either side of me.

“Baby, please—mmph!“ he cuts me off with a kiss, and grinds his clothed dick onto my exposed slit. 

I struggle to calm my sounds as Seb pulls away, prying further, “Only I can touch you like this, got it?” 

I nod my head to answer him. “Magnus has never–” As I say the other man’s name, Seb wrings a whine from me with another slow grind and a tightening grip on my wrists. “Fuck,” I whisper. ”He’s never tried to do anything to me. I’ve never tried either– Ahh~” I’m cut off once more as Seb grinds again, and I groan, placing my forehead against his. “I’d never do that to you.”

“He might though.”

“Am I missing something?!” I frown, frustrated. “Why aren’t you like this with Sam’s dumb crush on me? What did Magnus do to make you so upset?”

Seb releases one of my wrists from his grip and teases the area around my swollen bud with his knuckles. My knees instinctively tighten on either side of his hips as my hands curl into fists: one in on itself, the other around my discarded top. God, he’s so close to where I want him to be. 

“Why do you keep saying his name, darling?” Seb interrogates. He leans in as if to kiss me, but doesn’t close the gap. I bring a hand to his face, hoping it’ll gravitate his lips to mine, but he doesn’t budge – only smiles knowingly. 

“We can talk about him later,” he purrs. 

Rather than honing in on my clit like I hoped he would, Seb swipes slowly downward, and dips a finger inside me. I roll my head back, moaning into the night air as he deliciously slides a second finger in too.

“For now, I’m gonna make sure my name is the only thing this pretty little mouth of yours knows how to say,” Seb threatens, now very rapidly pumping into me. “Alright, my dear?”

Holy fucking shit. 

“Yes,” I murmur. 

Seb releases his hand from my other wrist, brings it to my face, and kisses me hard, before harshly dragging his thumb down my cheek and wrapping the same hand around my neck. 

My mouth dumbly hangs open as he speaks into it, pathetically breathless huffs escaping me. His deep eyes are concentrated on mine, which are tearing up from pleasure and heat. “‘Yes,’ what?” 

“Yes, Sebastian.” 

He smirks and moves his hand upward toward my mouth. Squeezing my cheeks to prop it open again, Seb fucking spits inside of it holy shit–

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he rasps before rewarding me with a sloppy, almost desperate kiss.

The noises coming from me are absurd. He threads his fingers back into my hair, but doesn’t pull – he simply keeps ‘em there to support me.

“Godfuckingdamnit Seb,” I slur, drunk off his fingers. “I need you,” I beg promptly after, “I’m so fucking close, please—”

Hearing my pleas, he laughs evilly, before halting his movements. I whine as he removes the digits from my core, “S-seb, no!” 

I don’t care how distressed I sound. I was so close to release. So close!!

My legs fall limp, feet now planted against a lower step. My thighs’re vibrating from how tensely they were coiled around Seb’s hips moments ago. Chest is heaving. Pussy’s dripping enough that I can feel my juices trailing to my ass. Ugh.

Seb gravitates down my body, marking his territory every few inches or so. Scratching my sides, nibbling and sucking my skin. His eyes veer from my face to focus on what he’s doing, but every once in a while they flicker up to make sure I’m still watching him. Only him.

“Think about it, baby...” Seb mumbles against the skin near my navel. 

His right hand is softly cradling my hip, and the left is lower, palming my inner right thigh. When I don’t answer or ask what he means, he gives the fat of my thigh a beautifully tight squeeze. 

“If I were to let you finish so soon, you might forget all about me.” He plants another wet kiss near my pubic area. “And then, I won’t get to hear you break for me.” Yoba, save me. After hoisting my legs over his shoulders, Seb lowers himself so that his lips are brushing my labia as he muses again, “Where’s the fun in that?” 

He’s like a fucking incubus right now, what the fuck! 

This is so cool!

“Holy shit,” I airily laugh, nails digging into the wood.

As Seb tattoos the handprint he’d left on my previously squished inner thigh with teeth-shaped dents, he chuckles darkly, before digging into my skin hard enough to draw blood. “Say my name, honey.” 

Eyebrows upturned, I moan out a half-curse, stopping myself by replacing the second half with my lover’s name. Adrenaline’s coursing through me as I revel in the pain. 

“Oh, you love this, don’t you?” Seb questions. He has such a cocky undertone to his voice… Little shit. 

I nod my head in response to his inquiry. I’m reminded that a nod is, in fact, not his name either, as he bites again on the same spot.

“Mnnn!” I moan out, eyes tearing. “Yeah, Sebastian,” I strain.

“There. Not so hard, is it?” His eyes are expectantly locked into mine.

“N-no, Seb.” 

He rewards me for complying by cleaning the liquid crimson that’s trailing down my skin. First he uses his thumb to swipe it, and licks it clean; then, he simply trails his tongue from the bottommost drop-upward, closing his soft lips around the raw wound. 

I cautiously reach the hand that isn’t clutched on my stoop into his hair. When he doesn’t push me away, I ground myself in the jet black strands. Each lap against the broken skin sends a shiver down my spine and into my cunt.

Why am I… so fucking into this? 

Once he’s sure I’ve stopped bleeding, Seb brings the hand that was on my hip back to my folds. Spreading me open, then licking with a featherlight flick of the tongue. 

I can’t help the sigh of relief that comes out of me as pleasure ensues once more. He flattens his tongue against me, presses a little harder, and traces broader circles. My hand instinctively tugs his hair, and he laughs against me – he’s gotta know that he has me wrapped around his fucking finger right now. 

“You want more, baby?” My eyes widen at the telepathic intrusion. Oh my fucking god he can talk to me while literally eating me out that’s so fucking cool I love magic so mu–

I nod, almost too hard. “Sebastian, please” I quickly correct myself, hips wiggling into his touch. 

“Beg for it,” he commands with his voice.

For fuck’s sake, dude – as he pulls away, a string of either saliva or my wetness or both droops between his mouth and my cunt. I shiver at the lewd sight. Chest heaving, I do my best to think up a way to just get laid already he is KILLING ME. I’ve been begging, this man clearly wants specifics…

“Sebastian, p-please fill me…?” I stutter, because of course. As if I didn’t sound dumb enough… Like, fill me? Seriously? I avoid eye contact as I feel my whole body blushing, then hiss as Seb bites a new wound into my less-scathed thigh. 

“Eyes over here, darling.”

Oh fuck.

I look him in the eye as he proceeds back down onto my slit. I shudder, eyes flickering between his own and his tongue. Unable to focus my attention on just one or the other. He notices, and punishes me with a featherlight bite on my bud. 

“Ahh!” my eyes roll back and I harshly tug his strands. Vision hazy, I return my gaze to his. His dumb, beautiful face looks so fucking smug. 

He’s so gorgeous. It’s so unfair.

“Now,” he continues, leaving some kisses along my lower lips, “Try that again.”

I shudder, doing my best to hold contact. “Please give me your cock, Sebastian.” I swallow hard, eyebrows upturned, overwhelmed with embarrassment. 

He hums onto me, pleased. A human vibrator. Feels so nice…

“Good start,” Seb encourages. “More.”

I cover my mouth with the back of my hand, lightly gnawing at my knuckle as I hype myself up. “Please Seb, I need to feel you inside me so badly” I roll my eyes back and curse under my breath as he does some cool tongue move that I can’t see from this angle. I quickly return my stare back to his. “I’m yours, Sebastian.”

Something in him snaps at that last line. I hear a growl from his throat, and the next thing I know, I’m being lifted and pinned against the side of my cabin by his hands, his lips, his whole body. 

“Damn fucking right you are.”

Trusting that my shaky thighs will stay wrapped around him, Seb uses one hand to secure my wrists above my head, and the other to undo his belt and unzip his pants. When his dick springs free, it taps against my entrance. A broken hum escapes me at the tantalizing sensation. 

“Never forget it,” he groans against my ear before nibbling the lobe.

He thrusts into me, not giving any time for adjustment before going wild on my pussy. His nails dig into my thigh as he helps me stay propped up. 

“Sebastian, fuck!~” 

Unlike the last time I carved into my palms with my nails during sex, Seb doesn’t stop me. He’s too focused on fucking me senseless. A blessing, truly – I’d be so pissed if he stopped now.

“You belong to me,” he grunts just barely an inch from my lips. His velvety voice curses my name, then continues, eyes stabbing into my own, “You’re mine.”

I nod, “I’m yours, Seb.”

“Fuuuck, (y/n),” he half-laughs, half-moans, rolling his eyes shut. Pressing his forehead to mine. Pulsing even harder, creating wet slaps that echo into the late night air. 

I continue to cry out Seb’s name alongside self-soothing curses, with some “I’m yours”es and “I love you”s sprinkled in. Soon enough, he’s accomplished exactly what he sought out to do: The only thing escaping my lips is his name. Over, and over, and over, until my throat is raw.

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