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violentdelightsandviolentends · 11 months

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Web of Lies.

Spencer Reid has always been good at keeping secrets. You just never thought he'd keep any from you.

Pairing - Spiderman!Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count - 3750

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing. mentions of violence and blood. potentially smut in the next chapters.

Author's Note - i am so excited to share this with all of you!! i saw a tiktok comparing marvel characters to criminal minds characters, and couldn't get the idea of spencer as spiderman out of my head. this will absolutely have more than one part, but i'm not sure how many just yet. please let me know what you think!! as always, reblogs, comments and feedback are always immensely appreciated <3

Masterlist. Requests.

Series Masterlist.

You probably should have noticed something was wrong way before you did.

That's the thing about elusive people - and Spencer Reid is one mysterious man.

In many ways, he wears his heart on his sleeve. He doesn't filter his words like most people do - he'll tell you exactly what he thinks, exactly what he feels. He doesn't sugar coat, he doesn't exaggerate. You can always count on Spencer to tell it to you straight.

But he's not exactly an open book. You know he had a difficult childhood - you've pieced some of it together based on anecdotes and passing comments. You know he's the youngest person to ever work for the FBI, never mind the esteemed Behavioural Analysis Unit. You know he's gentle, kind, loving, supportive, and the best friend and colleague you could ever ask for.

It's just that some days, it feels like there's still so much you don't know. Which is why you never really saw this coming.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It's Monday.

Spencer Reid has a black eye.

It's not unusual for you to show up to work on Monday with Fridays injuries. Bruises, scrapes, broken bones. They all come along as a part of the job. But the last case you worked didn't involve any physical altercations. No, in fact, it was a surprisingly easy arrest. So why is Spencer black and blue?

He sits down at his desk and turns on his computer, unaware of the way you're watching him like a hawk. Reading him like a book. You're replaying the events of the last case, trying to piece together exactly when Spencer had gotten hurt without you knowing.

"Hey, Spence?" you call, making your way over to where he's sat cross legged in his chair.

His eyes flick up and meet yours, and something in you churns. An alarm bell goes off somewhere in your distant mind, but you silence it, perching on the edge of his desk.

"Are you okay?"

He smiles at you gently, enamoured with the care you reserve just for him.

"I'm good. How are you? How was your weekend? Did you go to the new farmers market in the end? Did you start that book I got you?"

It's not unusual for him to ask you twenty questions at once, so you try to answer them as best as you can, eyes still glued to his shiny bruise.

"Yeah, I'm good. It was good, despite all that rain we had. Luke took me to the farmers market, and we tried these new grapes. Did you know they made grapes that taste like cotton candy? I saved you some, they're in my bag. I'm on chapter three of the book, so nothing has really happened yet. Where'd you get the bruise, Genius?"

You're hoping that your rambling will catch him off guard, and he'll answer without thinking. He looks at you carefully, considering his reply. No such luck.

"Fell in my kitchen. Tripped over my own damn shoes, smacked my face straight into the counter," he chuckles.

It does sound like Spencer. He's clumsy on the best of days, always dropping something or stumbling next to you. It's not far fetched that his own feet have caused him an injury.

You drop the issue, and laugh along with the team when they tease him about his physical ineptitude.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It's Tuesday.

Spencer Reid is a bad liar.

You're both settled into the cushions of your couch, eyes glued to the television screen. You're watching reruns of a 90s sitcom, the laugh track echoing around the apartment.

"That paramedic was totally checking you out today," you tease gently, poking him with your foot.

A blush instantly rises to his cheeks, the rosy tint a familar picture.

"No she wasn't," he counters, tripping over his words. "She was just doing her job."

"If by doing her job you mean undressing you with her eyes, then yes, she was doing her job."

You're both laughing - you at Spencer's bashful expression, him at your obliviousness.

"Are you jealous?"

He means to tease you, but it comes out more serious than intended. Your smile drops into a surprised smirk, eyebrows raising in shock.

You sit in silence for a minute, before you confess quietly.

"Maybe a little."

Spencer tries to process your words, but his brain doesn't want to work, apparently.

"Wait... you are?"

"I guess," you mutter lowly. "I just... forget I said anything. She was really pretty. Maybe I was just a little intimated."

You jokingly nudge him with your shoulder, and go back to watching the TV. Spencer's brain finally reboots and starts running a mile a minute, thoughts flying around like comets shooting through the night sky.

You sit together for hours, slipping into sleep gently. It isn't unusual for the two of you to doze off on the couch. Sleepovers happen regularly, both of you completely comfortable with the other person.

It's 3am when Spencer shoots up, pulling on his converse frantically.

"What's wrong?" you panic, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.

"Nothing. I just, uh, I have to go."

He grabs his bag and beelines for the front door without so much as stopping to explain himself.

"Spencer!" you call after him, willing him to slow down for minute. "Has something happened?"

"No, it's fine. I'll, uh, explain some other time. Just... just get some sleep. I've really gotta run."

And with that, he's out the door, leaving you bleary eyed and confused in the middle of your living room.

You fall asleep on the couch, head resting on the sweater that Spencer left behind in his rush to leave.

You're half convinced you've dreamt the events of the evening.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It's Wednesday.

Spencer Reid isn't at work.

Spencer Reid is always at work.

Emily regularly has to remind him to take time off. Luke teases that he'll steal his vacation hours if Spence doesn't use them. He's always sat at his desk, waiting for everyone else to arrive every morning.

Which is why his absence is making you worried.

The occurrences of last night are still replaying in your head like a stuck video tape, repeating over and over again. You're over analysing every word he said, every move he made. Leaving in a hurry without reason is so unlike Spencer. You consider supernatural forces, or possession, or Freaky Friday style body swapping. There's no logical explanation for his behaviour, you're convinced. Monday's black eye floats back into your mind, and your heart rate rises ever so slightly.

You march up the stairs and knock on Emily's office window with a bit more force than originally intended.

"Come in."

You swing the door open and slam it shut behind you, anxiety coursing through your veins.

"Hey, hey. Are you alright?" she asks, watching the way your eyes are flicking around the room, looking for clues.

"Where's Spencer?"

"What?"

"Emily. Where's Spencer?"

She gets up from her chair to stand in front of you, placing her hands on your shoulders.

"He's sick, some sort of flu, he thinks. I've told him to go back to bed, and to call if he needs anything."

Her words don't reassure you like she thought they would.

"Did he sound sick?"

"Huh?"

"Did he sound sick, when he called?"

"I don't know, really. I guess so."

"You're a profiler, Emily. You should be able to tell if he's sick or not," you snap.

"Woah," she counters. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

You sit down in the nearest chair, and run your hands over your face.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she reassures, kneeling in front of you. "Tell me what's going on, and I can try to help."

"It's nothing, I'm sure," you rationalise. "I'm just worried about him. Something's off, but I have no idea what it is."

You take a deep breath, Emily rubbing soothing circles into your knee.

"You know, if he were to talk to anyone about what was wrong, it'd be you."

"You think?"

"I don't think, I know."

It's no secret that you and Spencer are close. You've been best friends from the minute you joined the team, forming a connection instantly. As the years have gone by, the feelings have gotten stronger, but the both of you are too scared to admit it to yourselves or each other. You'd do anything for him, and he would do anything for you.

"Maybe you're right. I'll go over there after work and talk to him, see if I can get him to open up."

Emily leans down and gives you a hug, squeezing you a little tighter than usual.

"I'm always here for you. Both of you."

"I know," you smile gratefully. "I appreciate it, boss."

Just as you're leaving her office, Penelope calls you all into the briefing room, giving you no time to think about what could potentially be going on.

You look at the victims faces on the screen, and every single one seems to look like Spencer Reid.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It's Thursday.

Spencer Reid is having a panic attack.

He's back at work, making a seemingly miraculous recovery from his short lived illness. You went to his apartment last night after work as promised, but your knocking went unanswered. You don't know where he was, but you're worried.

You've been watching him across the bullpen all morning. You're surveying him carefully when his breathing becomes rapid, eyes flickering around the room. He stands up abruptly, practically running from his desk. You follow him instinctively, all the way into the men's bathroom. He's leaning over the sink, hands gripping the porcelain, knuckles turning white. His eyes are locked on himself in the mirror. He looks as if he doesn't recognise who he sees.

"Spence?" you urge gently, careful to keep your voice low. "Are you alright?"

His gaze meets yours over his shoulder, and he tenses even more. A wave of anxiety rolls through you. Usually, Spencer sees you and relaxes - you're like a breath of fresh air. Suddenly, you're not sure where you stand with him.

"Spence, please. Talk to me. I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine," he snaps.

He's never taken that tone with you before. It doesn't make you as sad as it probably should. No, it makes you angry.

"Don't you dare speak to me that way," you hiss, pointing your finger at him. "I am trying to help you. Don't push me away."

"What's it gonna take for you to leave me alone?" he asks viciously.

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, shock painting your features.

"You know what? Fine. Message received."

You turn on your heel and stride towards the door, stopping when you've swung it open. You look at him over your shoulder, and shake your head, a humourless laugh escaping you.

"Fuck you, Spencer Reid."

You slam the door behind you, leaving him alone, chest heaving and hands shaking.

✵

You're marching back to your desk when JJ calls the team together. You take a deep breath and try to release the anger from your body, but it proves difficult. It's tangled itself around your bones, running through your blood like a flash flood. You paint a smile on your face, and take your seat in the briefing room.

Spencer joins a couple of minutes later, choosing to sit across the table, rather than in his usual chair next to you. Luke takes the place instead, and reaches over to rest a hand on your thigh.

"You okay?" he murmurs lowly, careful to not make a scene.

"Yeah," you whisper back, fingers tangling with his where they rest on your leg. "I'm okay."

JJ pulls up the case details on the screen, and Luke doesn't let go of your hand.

"Where are we jetting off to today?" Matt asks, all eyes on the blonde at the front of the room.

"Nowhere, actually. Local, this time."

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, glad to stay close to home.

"Okay, the nearest PD have just sent this case through, and it's... weird."

"Weird how?" Tara enquires. It's not often that JJ comments on a case before she's shared all of the details.

"It's a man hunt, of sorts. They're calling him a vigilante."

"Ooo, like a supervillain?" Luke chuckles.

When JJ doesn't laugh, he doubles down.

"Wait, we're not actually catching a supervillain, are we?"

Everyone turns to JJ, who looks just as confused as the rest of you feel.

"Well... kinda?"

You allow your eyes to flick to Spencer, who's still breathing heavily, hand gripping the edge of the table. JJ clicks the remote in her hand, and a picture of a man in a red suit appears on the screen.

"This is the guy they're calling Spiderman. He's been spotted at multiple crime scenes over the last few weeks. He's making a hell of a lot of people very suspicious."

"Spiderman? Why is his costume red?" Tara asks, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Aren't there red spiders?" Rossi counters.

"Reid, are there red spiders?"

All heads turn to look at Spencer, who's gone completely pale. He tunes into the conversation, clearly not listening.

"Hmm?"

"I said, are there red spiders?"

"Yeah," he replies shortly. Everyone waits for him to spit his facts, to explain the different species, but he doesn't. His head drops slightly, a signal that he's done talking.

Everyone watches him in puzzlement, confused by his sudden silence.

"Anyway," JJ starts, "he's been linked to a number of local crimes. It started off as battery, assault, GBH - but last night there was a murder downtown, and he was spotted at the scene. He's prime suspect."

"Apart from, we don't know who he is," Matt adds.

"Exactly. That's why the police department have called us in. They can't handle it on their own."

Penelope starts to pass around case files, everyone flicking through at their own pace. Spencer doesn't even open his, just stares at it where it sits on the table.

"Reid, are you alright?" Emily asks, concerned.

"I'm fine. I just need some air," he replies quickly, taking his papers and striding out of the room.

You watch him go, squeezing Lukes hand a little harder.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It's Friday.

Spencer Reid is in trouble.

He's in too deep.

He can't remember the last time he took a deep breath.

His shoulders are so tense, it's a struggle to pull his sweater on.

His hands shake as he reads the case file from yesterday again.

Spiderman. Male. Mid twenties to early thirties. Slim build. Tall. Local - knows the area. Must have a connection to the police - perhaps his own radio.

Spencer accidentally knocks his knee into the desk, and winces. The wound he haphazardly stitched throbs beneath his corduroy trousers, and he prays he's not about to bleed through the material. People are asking enough questions as it is.

"Reid, Alvez, grab your jackets. You're going to the crime scene," Emily calls from up the stairs.

You watch as Spencer rises from his chair, making note of the way he's carefully putting more weight on his right leg. He rolls his shoulders once, twice, three times, before picking up his bag and heading out the door. Luke shoots you a wink as he follows him out, making you smile gently.

You decide to take a trip to see Garcia. She always knows how to take your mind off things.

You cruise into her office, instantly sitting in her spare chair, twirling in circles.

"God, you and Genius are like the same person," she giggles. "He does the exact same thing when he comes in here."

You smile instinctively, and then remember the way he spoke to you yesterday. The way he's treated you this week. The way he's acted as if you didn't exist all day. Your smile fades, and she notices.

"Is everything okay with you two?"

You sigh, and take a deep breath to try and prevent yourself from crying.

"I don't know."

"Oh, honey."

Penelope rolls over to you in her chair, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

"He won't tell me what's wrong, and pushes me away when I try to ask. We had a fight yesterday, and now he won't even look at me. I don't know what I've done to make him hate me all of a sudden," you sob, tears running down your cheeks.

"He doesn't hate you," she murmurs soothingly into your hair. "He loves you more than anyone in the entire world."

"I'm not so sure that's true," you whisper.

"It is. I promise you. He's never been good at talking about his feelings. I'm sure whatever it is, he'll tell you soon enough. You'll work this out - you always do."

You let her hold you for a little longer, sinking into her embrace. Maybe she's right. Maybe it'll all be alright.

✵

After work, you try to relax.

You cook dinner, run yourself a bubble bath. You watch a cheesy movie, eat the good chocolate you've been saving. You snuggle into the couch, pulling a blanket over your legs. But you can't settle.

Usually, a Friday night would mean a sleepover. You and Spencer order takeout, tangle your legs together and fall asleep, chattering about nothing and everything. But tonight, you're alone. You can't stand it anymore.

Throwing on the sweater that Spencer left on Tuesday, you slip on your shoes and get in your car. You drive on autopilot, mind zoned out completely. Before you know it, you're parking on the street below Spencer's apartment building.

You're met with silence when you knock on the door. You try again, and still, nothing.

A choked sob escapes you, and you rest your forehead against the wood. The tears flow freely, forming a puddle on the welcome mat.

The welcome mat.

You pull it back roughly, and find the spare key that he irresponsibly leaves there. Letting yourself into his apartment, you inhale deeply. It smells so distinctly like Spencer. The familar scent used to bring you comfort. Now, it just makes you cry harder.

You collapse on his kitchen floor, letting your head fall back against the cabinet. After an hour or so, you allow your eyes to drift closed, knees hugged tightly to your chest.

✵

You're abruptly awoken by a door slamming shut.

You jump to your feet, and let out a startled sound. Running into the living room, you expect to see Spencer, but he's nowhere to be found. You tune in to the sound of running water, and assume he's in the shower. You perch on the edge of the couch and wait.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer asks as he makes his way into the room.

He doesn't sound scared, or confused, or shocked. It almost feels like he knew you were here.

"I couldn't sleep," you reply cautiously. "Where have you been? It's 4am."

"I couldn't sleep either."

"Yeah? Then why are you bleeding?"

He turns towards the mirror on the wall, and lays eyes on a gash across his cheekbone. He definitely didn't see that before.

"Slipped in the shower."

You jump to your feet, rage fuelling your movements.

"Stop fucking lying!"

Now he looks shocked. He's taken aback, stepping away from you slowly.

"I... I'm not," he says meekly. He doesn't even believe his own lie.

"You're doing it again! What did I do, Spencer? What did I do to lose all of your trust?!"

He tries to calm you down, but it just makes you angrier.

"Tell me!" you scream at him. "I'm going insane, Spencer! I'm going fucking insane!"

"It's not your fault," he tries to explain. "You haven't done anything wrong, I promise."

"Then why don't you love me anymore?" you sob. Your knees give way, and you fall to the ground, cries wracking your exhausted frame.

Spencer's heart breaks so hard, he's convicted he can hear it shatter.

He strides over, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can. The contact makes you cry more, tears soaking into his t shirt.

"I could never stop loving you," he whispers. "Nothing in the world could ever make me stop loving you."

You pull back to look at him, astounded by his confession.

"I'm trying to protect you," he continues quietly. "I'm doing this because I love you."

You thread your hands through his hair and pull him towards you, pressing your lips to his urgently. He cradles your face and kisses you back, ignoring the way your tears drip down his face. You tug him closer, desperate for this moment to never end.

He's finally here. Back in your arms, where he belongs.

Eventually, you pull away, gasping for air. He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and his eyes well up with emotion.

"Hey," you soothe, stroking his cheek with your thumb gently. "It's okay. You're okay. We're okay."

"I feel like I'm drowning," he whispers.

"Whatever it is, Spence, we'll figure it out. We always do."

"What if we can't this time?"

"Then we come up with a plan B. And a plan C. And a plan D. We've got at least 26 plans before we run out of letters."

He chuckles, but there's no laughter in it. You tilt his chin towards you, so your eyes are locked.

"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur. "No matter what it is, I'm not going anywhere."

He takes a deep breath, and releases it shakily.

"Promise?"

You smile gently, and take a deep breath to mirror his.

"I promise."

He nods slowly, and moves to sit in front of you cross legged. You match his movements and do the same, facing him assuredly.

"I have to tell you something. And you can't tell anyone, ever," he begins. "It's going to change the way you look at me. It's going to change the way you love me. It's going to change everything."

"You can tell me, Spence," you reassure. "You can trust me."

Spencer takes a deep breath - and then a second, and a third. His eyes bore into yours, and he inhales again, before uttering the words that will undoubtedly change both of your lives completely.

"I'm Spiderman."

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cupidjyu · 3 months

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fake valentine

sunwoo x reader

sunric valentine's day special pt 1. you ask sunwoo, who's your roommate and the perfect guy, to pretend to be your boyfriend for a valentine's day couples contest. little did you know, he has very large feelings for you...

genre: tooth-rotting cotton candy type fluff, roommates to lovers, fake relationship/taking pictures pretending to be a couple, shy and whipped sunwoo, wearing his hoodie!!! holding hands, sweet kisses, confessions, reader is bold and competitive notes: is it too early for valentines day? yes and i don't care 😚 word count: 6.4k

You never cared for Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t because you were jealous or sulky about having no one to spend it with or being lonely without anyone to kiss. You’ve heard about those types of complaints plenty of times from your friends. You simply found it irrelevant and not a day to spend so much time on when you could be doing anything else.

But that was then and this is now.

Now you cared. You were lying in bed, staring at your phone screen in complete awe.

Annual Valentine’s Day Couples Contest!

Win a mystery prize for posting pictures with the most likes!

You quickly sat up, your eyes brightening. One would think that you were focused on the “couples” part of the title. But no, you were instead eyeing the words, “contest” and “prize.” Anyone who knew you was aware that you adored competition. No matter how stupid the competition was, the thrill of competing and possibly winning a prize for your hard work was, what you believed, the most beautiful thing of life. Your friends would stare at you weirdly.

You didn’t even care if you didn’t know what the mystery prize actually was. It must be money or food. Either way, you looked up with a determined look. You were going to win this, even if you didn’t exactly have anyone to be a couple with.

Just as you were mulling over the possible choices, the door unlocked to your dorm. That was when you gasped in realization. He was right in front of you. He would be perfect.

“Be careful, Y/n.” Sunwoo walked in, shivering with flurries of snow decorating his fluffy hair. “It’s cold and slippery outside. I almost made a whole fool of mys–”

“Would you be my boyfriend?”

And almost like the wood floor was suddenly slick with ice, he slipped and almost fell flat on his face if it weren’t for the desk that he so desperately held on to. After regaining his balance, he stood up, brushed himself off, and then stared at you as if to silently ask, Are you absolutely crazy?

“Don’t give me that look,” you grumbled.

“W-we haven’t even gone on a proper date. I planned it out alre–” He choked once he realized that you were looking at him in amusement.

“You…” You had to suppress a laugh. “You already planned out a date for me? But we’re only roommates.”

His cheeks were already tinted red from the bitter cold outside. But for some reason, they reddened even more if that was possible. “I was kidding…” He looked away as he took off his coat and set down his bag. He shivered slightly before sitting next to you, still unable to look you in the eye.

You giggled and pulled out your phone, showing him the contest. “I should have specified for you to be my fake boyfriend.”

He stared at it blankly before turning to you with disbelief. “You want to fake being a couple just so you can win a prize that you don’t even know what it is?”

You nodded as if that was the most normal thing to say ever. “Yes. Is that so bad?”

He narrowed his eyes. “We’re just roommates. This is cheating.”

You scoffed. “Fine then.”

“That’s it?” He widened his eyes, giving you one of those round, puppy-like gazes that always made it hard for you to tease him. “No objections?”

You shrugged with an exaggerated frown. “No,” you sighed, much louder than needed. To add to the effect, you even scooted away from him and crossed your arms over your chest. In the corner of your eye, you could see him reach out to you with worry. And to make things just that much worse, you muttered a quiet, “I guess I’ll find someone else then.”

“No!” He blurted out, suddenly reaching forward and grabbing your hand. When you turned to him while biting back a smile, you realized that he was pouting.

“Oh? So you change your mind.”

“Don’t…” He bit his lip nervously. “Don’t go with anyone else.”

Finally, your grin broke through. Your excitement washed over you like a wave to the seashore as you quickly scooted back towards him. He stared at you in surprise. But to his further shock, you leaned close, right up against him so that your lips were only centimeters away from his.

He looked like he was about to explode.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, his expression adorably flustered.

You smiled lazily. “Just getting into character.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tried to avoid your eyes but failed miserably. His voice was shaky as he asked, “By leaning closer?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Do you want me to do more?”

You could tell that Sunwoo’s mind flashed to… other scenarios when you said that. But putting those possible images aside, you cupped his face with your hands. Then, you squeezed them and started rambling.

“My sweet, sweet boyfriend. Aren’t you cold? Do you want me to kiss it away? And–” You cut yourself off with a snort, unable to take any of this seriously. Sunwoo was your roommate of a few years. It was different to pretend like you were dating him after accidentally falling asleep in his bed so many times.

“This is so funny,” you laughed. “Can you believe what I just said?” Except you trailed off when you looked up, only to see that he was staring at you with big eyes and red cheeks. There was a sort of hopefulness behind his gaze and you could almost feel his heart which was beating a mile a minute. “Wait a minute. You…”

“No,” he whispered, cringing as if he already knew what you were going to say.

“You liked it. You liked me babying you!” You exclaimed in revelation.

He groaned. “I didn’t.”

“You did.” You smiled wider. “What should I call you? My love?”

He stared at you, clearly not fazed.

“Angel? Cutie pie?”

He looked away and grumbled, “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Hm…” You leaned against his shoulder. The two of you were close as such. Though you only met through just being roommates, you got along perfectly well. Sunwoo who was significantly less energetic than you, always treated you well and tended to cheer you up when you were down. You did the same for him, always cracking jokes just to see that laugh and smile that rarely appeared.

You looked up at him, causing him to gulp and stare back. “What about baby?”

It seemed that you had hit the center of the target. That pet name was enough to send him reeling and then clearing his throat. He turned away and tried to cover his face with his hands.

“I… I hate it,” he whispered.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you teased back. “Baby.” You marveled at the way he blushed further as he stood up abruptly and made his way to his bed that was just across yours. And like the absolute fool he was, he plopped down and screamed in his pillow.

You laughed loudly. “You do know I’m still here, right?”

“I’m ignoring you,” he mumbled, his voice muffled in the pillow.

“You can’t,” you sang. “We still have to take cute couple pictures.”

“I’ll get back to you later.”

Sunwoo approached you cautiously the next day. His hands fidgeted and he still struggled to look you in the eye.

“Let’s do it.”

“Just like that?” You stared at him slyly.

He nodded quietly. “Don’t… don’t make me take it back.”

“Okay,” you giggled. “I already have an idea for the first picture.”

“And that is?” He raised an eyebrow as he watched you get up from your bed. You walked over to his closet and opened it. He was suspicious, observing how you rummaged through his clothes before pulling out one of his hoodies. You held it up over your body and looked at him for confirmation. Except, he had no idea what exactly he was confirming.

“You want me to wear it?” He frowned.

You shook your head. “Can I wear it?”

His eyes widened comically. His gaze wandered over you again, but this time, taking note of how the hoodie was significantly larger on you than on him. “Wear… my hoodie?”

You nodded enthusiastically. When you caught on to how unsure he looked, you gave him a pleading look. Sunwoo gulped. You knew how hard it was for him to say no if you put on the right expression.

“Fine.”

With ease, almost like you had stolen his hoodie before already, you pulled it over your head. Immediately, it consumed you in warmth and it smelled just like him. You held your arms out and turned back to him, tilting your head questioningly.

“What do you think?”

The man simply could not even speak. He had no words but you could tell just by looking at him. He blinked and looked away, his ears turning an alarming red. His hands grasped onto the bed as if to try to keep himself from somehow falling off it.

“You…” His voice trailed off, looking back to you. Previously, he was just avoiding his eyes but now he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You liked it when he looked at you like that–so admiringly with a soft gaze. It made you feel weird inside. “Cute. You look cute.”

You laughed. “Thank you.” You approached him and held your hand out to gesture him to get up. But instead of following your gesture, he straight up took hold of your hand, his thumb caressing the back of it. “Oh.” You stared at him, wide-eyed. Still, you quickly recovered and led him over to the nearby mirror set up in your dorm.

You stood in front of him and gently led him to stand close behind you.

Then, you said something that left him coughing on plain air.

“Backhug me.”

“What?” He squawked. Yet again, he was blushing. You didn’t know you were that capable of making him blush so much.

When you stared at him expectantly, he could only sigh. Hesitantly, you felt two arms tentatively being wrapped around your waist. His hold was gentle, almost like he was afraid to hurt you in some way. He leaned closer and tightened his embrace ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat at the way he held you so gently and warmly.

“Like this?” He whispered into your ear.

A quick “mhm!” was all you could reply with. You pulled your phone out and positioned it to take a picture of the mirror reflection. When you zoomed in, you could see how embarrassed Sunwoo was as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You suppressed a giggle. “You can hide your face if you want. It can create suspense.”

He happily obliged as he turned his head to instead hide his face in the crook of your neck. You tried not to shiver at how his lips and breath brushed against your skin.

The picture turned out perfectly with how his arms wrapped around you firmly and your giddy smile could be seen. Only Sunwoo’s fluffy hair was visible as he nuzzled into your neck. You couldn’t help but think… why did this look so realistic?

“Okay,” you whispered, patting his hand. “We’re done.”

But even after that, Sunwoo refused to let go. Instead, he held you closer, pulling your back to his chest. You gasped quietly.

“Sunwoo?”

“I like holding you like this,” he mumbled, almost sleepily. It was like he was in some sort of trance.

Your heart was beating a million times faster now. “You like hugging me? Do you want to do it everyday then?”

He looked up and quickly pulled away as if he just realized what he was doing. “I–” When he caught sight of your teasing face, he groaned and pulled away. “Forget what I said.”

“I don’t think I can.” You grinned. “Hug me again if you want.”

He stared longingly like he really did want to. But instead, he tore his gaze away and headed into your shared bathroom, mumbling to himself.

“What was I thinking?”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly. Who knew your roommate could be so endearing?

“You know what would be cute?” You stood at his bed. Sunwoo was lying down, watching something on his phone as he stared up at you skeptically. You didn’t even allow him to answer. “Candid photos.”

“Candid photos?” He furrowed his eyebrows with confusion. His eyes traveled down to where you slightly shivered from the cold weather. Almost immediately like it was the most natural thing, he held up the blankets so that you could climb in. You happily obliged, snuggling up to his warm body.

This was what you meant by “accidentally falling asleep on his bed so many times.” He always offered you his bed when you were cold and somehow, you would open your eyes to the morning sun.

“Candid photos!” You exclaimed, causing him to wince ever so slightly. “And they have to be real. You know, the type where you really have no idea that the camera’s on you.”

“How’re we gonna do that?” He muttered, yawning. “We’re always aware of each other.” It was only the afternoon yet for some reason, whenever you were cuddled up to him, he became a lot more sleepy.

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know, it was just an idea. I doubt it’ll really work out.”

He hummed silently before he readjusted the blankets over you, prioritizing your warmth over his. You smiled and began to start rambling about random topics that came up in your head. That was what you liked about Sunwoo. He was quiet but he always listened.

But maybe… always was an overstatement.

You paused abruptly. Sunwoo had fallen asleep, his lips pulled into a natural pout. You couldn’t help but look at him in endearment.

“Do I talk too much?”

When he didn’t respond, you sighed and were about to leave the bed. But then, a hand caught your wrist, pulling you back in.

“You don’t talk too much,” he mumbled.

“You’re… awake?”

“Barely. Now keep on talking. I like it.”

Your heart swelled.

You were slowly losing your battle with exhaustion. You sat at the library desk, your eyesight growing blurry as you stared hopelessly at your computer. You needed to finish up an assignment but the lack of sleep was definitely getting to you.

To no avail, your head slumped down and you quickly fell asleep with your cheek resting in your arms.

It took Sunwoo, who was studying next to you, a while to notice that your typing had long stopped. But when he did, he peered down at you to make sure you were okay. Of course, you were. You just fell asleep.

He shook his head. Typical. Yet he couldn’t let go of the fond smile that overtook his lips.

He took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. Then, he sat back down next to you and chose to simply admire your features. His heart bloomed and his feelings grew impossibly larger.

Pretty even when asleep.

After admiring you for a little while longer, he spotted his phone nearby and came up with an amazing idea. He opened the camera and took a picture, making sure not to get any bad angles of you. He smiled adoringly at the picture.

Your eyes were shut and your cheek was squished against your arm. But even so, he thought you were just beautiful. In the very corner of the picture, his hand was resting on your head, stroking through your hair ever so gently. As quietly as he could, he put down his phone and returned to stroking your hair.

And even after you woke up and the two of you headed back together, he still found himself staring at the picture late at night with a stupidly bewitched smile.

You giggled quietly at the amount of likes and comments that the two of you had received from the first picture. Your eyes landed on one of the comments made by your very own friend.

finally !!!! 🥰

“Finally?” You mumbled to yourself, staring at your phone perplexed. You looked up to steal a glance at Sunwoo, only to find him sitting at his desk, earphones plugged in. He was writing things down in a notebook but you were more focused on his handsome face.

You were no stranger to the fact that Sunwoo was a good-looking guy. He had pretty yet masculine features, pouty lips, and what you liked the most–his fluffy hair. Sometimes but very rarely, he let you play with it.

Where you were sitting was the perfect angle to capture his sharp jawline. You quickly brought up your phone and snapped a picture.

“Aha!” You suddenly yelled, loud enough for Sunwoo to startle and pull off his earphones. He stared at you in alarm. You were standing up, looking at your phone like you had just won the lottery. “I got it! The candid photo.” You held up your phone, showing off the picture you took of him sitting at his desk.

His cheeks flushed as his eyes scanned over it.

“Why now?” He whined.

“You looked handsome.”

Sunwoo froze, his whole body going rigid. “I did?”

“Of course baby.”

He scowled, trying his best to look annoyed but ultimately failed. You could see how embarrassed he was over being complimented and from that particular pet name.

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled.

“Okay.”

His head snapped up. “Wait actually–”

“Okay, baby.” You grinned at him with amusement. You knew that he was going to immediately take his words back. Once he heard the pet name again, he practically melted at the sound of it.

“Oh, I…” He pulled out his phone. “I took one of you too.”

You widened your eyes in surprise. “You did? When?”

“Yesterday,” he shyly replied. He showed you the picture of you asleep in the library after failing to finish an already overdue assignment. You cringed and hid your face.

“Agh, I look bad,” you complained, a blush appearing on your face. Sunwoo quickly noticed and he stared at you in absolute awe. He thought you were cute like this.

“Why?” He frowned, completely serious. “I thought you looked really pretty.”

“Whoa,” you gasped. “Since when were you so bold?”

He stared at you for a moment as if it was still registering in his head what he just said. And then he coughed awkwardly and averted his gaze. “I won’t take it back.”

You pulled on his arm, letting him sit beside you. “And why’s that?”

“Because it’s true,” he whispered. “You look pretty. All the time.”

Your lips parted as you stared at him in shock. When you asked about him being bold, you didn’t expect him to become even more so. “Sunwoo,” you breathed out. This was normal for roommates, right?

His eyes wandered down to your lips for a brief second before he frantically checked the watch. “I have a meeting with my professor. I– I should go.”

“Wait–”

But he was already grabbing his bag, putting on his shoes, and scrambling out the door. You furrowed your eyebrows and checked the date. His professor certainly wasn’t in office that day. So why exactly did he run away?

“How’d the meeting with your professor go?” You crossed your arms over your chest with a raised eyebrow.

He cringed and avoided your eyes. “I didn’t meet with him.”

“Just as I thought,” you hummed. “But you run away after telling me I’m pretty?” Without even realizing it, you were practically interrogating him, backing him up against the door. He swallowed thickly as he stared down at you with flushed cheeks. You frowned further, noticing how he tried so very hard to avoid your gaze—a clear sign of a lie. “Am I missing something here?”

You couldn’t help but overthink. Was it you? Did you maybe do something wrong that made him regret complimenting you? You would admit that the way he called you pretty with such a low yet admiring voice made your heart flutter ever so slightly. So why did he take it back so quickly?

“Y/n.” He sighed with defeat. His eyes scanned over your face, doused with skepticism and worry. And to your surprise, he was the one who stepped forward, tugging on your arm and pulling you to his chest. “I’m sorry. I got embarrassed.” His voice quieted and you could feel his heartbeat speed up.

You inhaled in surprise, pulling away to stare up at him. “You ran away because you were… shy?” Your eyes soon began to glint with wonder.

He nodded quietly.

“That��s–” you snorted. “That’s so cute.”

“What?” He choked.

“You know you can say anything to me, right? Sunwoo, how could you be so…” Your hands came up to swipe away the hair that fell over his face, revealing his forehead. You had the sudden need to kiss it, but quickly stomped that thought away. Instead, you simply chose to just look into his eyes with an endeared smile, one that sent his face softening and the hand around your waist tightening anxiously.

“So?” He pried shyly.

“So perfect.” You grinned, continuing to play with his hair. Usually, he would flinch or get startled. But this time, he almost melted into your touch like a puppy. After a few more minutes of combing your fingers through his hair, you suddenly pulled away, much to his disliking. You almost missed the way he tried to reach forward for you again.

“Baby, let’s go out on a date,” you spoke casually, almost like you two were a real couple. He tilted his head in confusion.

“Like…”

“Let’s fake go out,” you corrected yourself, overlooking the way his shoulders sank ever so slightly. “Our last post was so popular–the one with the candid photos? So many people are rooting for us.”

Sunwoo quickly brightened when he noticed how wide you were smiling. He always liked it when you were happy. And so, he reached for his coat and beckoned for the door. “Then let’s go.” He charmingly smiled at you back, one that almost made you forget to grab your own coat too.

The two of you opted to take a walk in the park. The weather was beautiful with its bright blue skies and perfectly angled sun. Though, it was still chilly causing you to huddle up to Sunwoo’s side which he seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

“Though this is an early Valentine’s Day contest, do you have an actual valentine when the day comes?” You peered up at him curiously.

He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head sheepishly. “No, I don’t have one.” He paused and looked at you cautiously. “Do you?”

You replied similarly with a shake of your head. Oddly, Sunwoo seemed to relax at your answer.

“Then… wouldn’t you saw that we would be perfect for each other?” You asked teasingly. “Considering we both don’t have anyone.”

You expected Sunwoo to maybe laugh at your joke or refute it with a roll of his eyes. But instead, he gave you a stupidly soft smile as he hummed approvingly. “I’d think so. I think I…” He puffed his chest out. “Would be perfect for you.”

You gaped at him before sputtering with a laugh. You leaned into him, your laughter causing you almost to topple over. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he huffed. “Don’t I look serious?”

You raised an eyebrow and stared at how he somehow tried to make himself look tougher and taller. “No.”

He made an incoherent sound with his throat before deflating with defeat. You couldn’t help but giggle, hopelessly endeared. “Sunwoo.”

“Hm?”

“You would be perfect for me,” you said. “Just… you know, without trying to look taller and bigger. I think I like you just how you are.” You scrunched your nose and pinched his cheek.

Sunwoo looked at you with hope in his eyes. “Really?”

“Really.”

He blushed profusely as he desperately tried to come up with some sort of response. All he could come up with was a stuttering, “I like you just how you are too.”

“Thank you,” you teased. Then, you suddenly stopped him. Without an explanation, you ran over to a nearby bench to set your phone down, facing the trail that the two of you were just walking on. He stared at you curiously as you pressed record. “Let’s keep walking,” you spoke, breathlessly.

He smiled, slowly catching on. Your initial plan was to record you walking alongside him while chatting. But instead, your plan came falling down.

Sunwoo was the one who took hold of your hand. His hands were cool but gentle as he hesitantly intertwined his fingers with yours, locking you in his hold. He stared down at you with an absolutely lovesick smile that sent you briefly spiraling with confusion before you decided to push those feelings down to decipher for later.

You experimentally swung his hand making him laugh and tighten his hold on your hand.

“Don’t let go,” he whispered after leaning close to your ear. It was like he didn’t want your phone to pick up his words—like he wanted to preserve affection only for you.

“I won’t.” You grinned. You suddenly felt a huge surge of affection and you leaned your head on his shoulder. He tilted his body slightly so it was more comfortable.

“Do roommates act like we do?” You asked quietly. “You confuse me, Sunwoo.”

His thumb caressed your hand and you could feel the beat of his heart resonate through yours. “I don’t know. But all I know is that I care for you, Y/n.”

You felt your throat go dry. You started to wonder if you were completely oblivious all this time—that maybe his smiles and his tentative touches on you meant something completely else. You weren’t just incredibly close roommates but… something else. Yet, you didn't know what.

“I think we need to talk later,” you whispered.

You felt Sunwoo stiffen next to you and his hand pulled away slightly.

After walking back to your shared dorm with his hand grasped in yours and his jacket now wrapped around your shoulders because you got cold, the two of you sat down on the bed. A silence had befallen the two of you–hesitant and full of possibilities good or bad.

“Sunwoo,” you finally spoke up, turning to him with a concerned face. “I need to ask you something.”

His fists clenched nervously in his lap. “Yeah?”

“What did… all this mean to you? This fake couple thing that we had going on.” You didn’t even know the answer yourself. In the very beginning, you were sure this would just be a simple facade so that you could satisfy your craving for competition. But it no longer was a facade. It was something that left your feelings jumbled into a tangle of romantic emotions for your roommate.

His eyes shifted away. Already, you could tell there was going to be a lie that would leave his lips.

“Nothing. I just wanted to help you.”

“Really?” You inquired slowly.

“Yeah,” he whispered untruthfully. “I– I have to meet a friend now. So–” He got up and almost made his way to the door if you hadn’t held onto his hand and pulled him back to face you. You stepped backward only to realize that you had already run out of space and he was now cornering you against the desk.

You widened your eyes, glancing down to where one hand of his was holding onto yours while the other was resting on the desk. You were close, too close and you didn’t know what to do. It seemed Sunwoo didn’t know either.

“What are we doing?” He quietly asked, his voice low. His gaze shifted across your features nervously.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Y/n…”

“First, you call me pretty all the time with those stupid soft eyes and sweet smiles. And then you supposedly stroked my hair while I was asleep? And you– you say that you care for me which, didn’t sound like how a mere friend would say it.” You groaned, a blush appearing on your cheeks. “I just don’t get it.”

“Y/n,” he said again. When you looked up, you realized that he was smiling at you and only you. His gaze was yet again gentle and warm as he let go of your hand and the desk, instead opting to snake them around your waist to pull you into his embrace.

You gasped quietly. And then you grumbled, cursing yourself for relaxing into his warm hold. “Why do you always hug me like this?”

He didn’t answer just yet, instead pulling away to simply stare at your face as if to silently tell you that you were beautiful. When you looked closely, you could see that his ears were red and his pupils dilated.

“And why…” You breathed out shakily. “Why do you look at me like that?”

Even when you tried to glare at him to make him look away, he just kept on looking at you like that. It was like ice how his face would just melt whenever you would come in sight. Sometimes his lips would pull into a pout when he was worried about you. Other times, he would have this faint smile full of fondness whenever you so much as laugh.

And finally, Sunwoo answered. It was quiet and filled with insecurity but you could hear it anyway.

“Because I want you to be my real valentine. I… really like you, Y/n.”

You could feel the walls that you tried to build up quickly come crumbling down. Your hands rested on his chest as you stared up at him in utter shock. “What?”

“This whole time that we’ve been this fake couple, I wanted it to be real,” he whispered, biting his lip shyly. He was hiding back a smile and you admired how cute he looked doing so. “I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. And for a while now.”

Your lips were also fighting back a wide smile. “You want me to be yours?”

He nodded quietly, staring at you unsurely. “But I’m a clumsy fool for you. That’s why I try to run away all the time. Because I… I don’t want you to see that side of me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “But I like that side of you.”

“But–”

“And who said I’m not already yours?”

He stared at you as if to try to process your words. When they finally did, he let out a quiet whine and leaned forward to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “But wasn’t this a fake thing for you to win a competition?” He mumbled against your skin, his breath tickling.

You hummed. “I take it back. I hereby state that we’ve been a real couple this whole time. And that’s because I really like you too, Sunwoo.”

His hold on your waist tightened and he pulled back to stare at you with adorably wide puppy eyes. “You do? You–”

You grinned, finally letting your happiness and new feelings overcome you. And this time, you buried your face into him, but instead in his chest, inhaling his familiar, warm scent.

“You can’t joke with me, Y/n.” His voice vibrated throughout your whole body.

“I’m not!” You laughed.

He could only stare at you skeptically. But even with his suspiciousness, you could tell that he too, felt giddy with how his blush had spread to his cheeks.

But, there must be some way to further convince him that you returned his feelings.

That was when an idea hit you. You quickly led him to sit on your bed and pulled out your phone.

“We should take a selfie for the contest.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Now? Right after I just confessed my feelings?” But no matter how tough or nonchalant he tried to look, you could feel his care in the way his hand yet again, found its way around your waist, rubbing circles on your hip as he stared at you attentively.

You nodded slyly. Then, you held up the phone and leaned close so that your cheek was practically against his. Sunwoo smiled awkwardly yet endearingly as he waited for you to press the button.

But instead of simply posing and taking the picture, you decided to turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek. Your phone made the click! sound but all you could hear was Sunwoo’s sharp inhale.

You put your phone down and faced him. Sunwoo was simply speechless, unable to let out a single word. His hand came up to touch the spot that you had just pressed your lips to as he dumbly gaped at you.

“Did you just…”

You nodded, smiling excitedly. “Did that prove it? That I really like you too?”

He could only mutter a quiet yes, his chest heaving up and down.

“Is your heart okay?” You teased.

He held a hand over it. “No, I think I’m dying.”

You burst out laughing, leaning into his side. You opened your phone to look at the picture that you just took. It was adorably hilarious. Sunwoo was staring at the camera, not with that awkward smile, but rather with his lips parted and his eyes wide. Your eyes were closed with your lips in contact with his cheek.

“Isn’t it cute?”

He groaned. “That’s embarrassing. I wasn’t ready.”

“That was the point.” You rolled your eyes.

“Then… can we take another one?” He stared at you hopefully. “And this time, when we’re both ready.”

You immediately knew what he was talking about but chose to tease him further. “And how do we do that?”

He grimaced and took in a deep breath. “You’ll see.”

“Okay.” You smiled, inching closer just to make it a little easier for him. Again, you held up the phone, positioning it so it would capture both of your faces–both flushed with newfound romantic feelings.

Sunwoo then carefully cupped your jaw, turning you to face him. You stared wide-eyed, feeling your heart stutter at just how close he was. Then, he whispered softly, “Can I kiss you, Y/n?” It was at that moment that you began to miss the shy Sunwoo who always ran away because now, you began to feel weak all over, even struggling to hold up your phone.

You nodded slowly and Sunwoo smiled, completely captivated by you. He leaned in after and you closed your eyes, feeling a pair of soft lips on yours. Momentarily, you forgot what moment to press the capture button and instead opted to continuously press it in hopes it would work. But no matter the angle you took the picture, nothing would compare to the feeling of Sunwoo’s gentle touch on you as he tilted your head up and kissed you lovingly.

Soon enough, it seemed that he had gotten too enthusiastic as he pressed further forward, causing you to lose balance and fall back against the bed with a yelp.

“Sunwoo!” You broke apart momentarily, catching your breath. Sunwoo now caged you under his arms, pinning you to the bed. His fluffy hair fell over his forehead adorably and his eyes were full of adoration.

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t think kissing you would feel so nice.”

You stared at him, utterly shocked before sighing with a shy smile. “Then why don’t you continue?”

“Of course,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks first. “Maybe don’t take pictures of this though. This moment is just for us only.”

You snorted, glancing down to where your phone had already fallen to the floor. Sunwoo smiled with a glint in his eyes before he leaned back down to attach his lips again.

“What is that picture?” He groaned, staring down at your phone. You were cuddled up to his side, resting your head on his chest as you scrolled through the pictures you just took.

The first was the cheek kiss which you would never get over with his cute, shocked face. The next was just before the two of you had your first kiss, your cheeks red and Sunwoo’s eyes already looking down at your lips. You swiped to the next picture where the two of you were actually kissing, small smiles forming on both of your lips.

And then there was the last one you took before your phone fell. It was blurry but you could still easily make out what was happening. You were falling backward on the bed as Sunwoo pounced on you from kissing so hard. Sunwoo’s eyebrows were furrowed with focus and you could briefly see your arm that was up in the air, about to grab hold of his neck for balance.

You giggled. “We’re so going to win.”

“Is that all you care about?” He grumbled.

“Is someone sulky?” You cooed. “Don’t worry, I care about you the most.”

He huffed before holding you closer in his embrace. The two of you fell asleep right after he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You slapped your hand over your mouth, staring at the post on your screen.

“We didn’t win.”

Sunwoo sat up, blinking heavily from sleep. “What?” He mumbled. “I thought you said we were popular.”

“We were,” you whined. “But another couple still beat us.” You peered at the picture of the winners, recognizing the guy as one of your classmates, Eric. It was a cute photo, you would admit with how he had his hand around his significant other’s waist and how he smiled at them, clearly in love.

He reminded you much like a certain someone.

Sunwoo tilted his head. “So what was the prize then?”

“Oh! Right.” You peered closer. And then you huffed. “It was a free date to a fancy restaurant.”

He stared at you for a while, leaving you confused. But to surprise you even more, he leaned in and kissed you. “Let’s go out today.”

“Where?” You widened your eyes.

“To that fancy restaurant. Who needs the prize when I can pay for it?”

#the boyz reactions #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #tbz x reader #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo fluff #requests 💞#drabbles 💞

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cloudysleepingzone · 2 months

Note

hi! may i req some hcs for bf ranpo :3 thank you!

BF Ranpo Edogawa!

SILLY!! I love Ranpo so ofc I have hc's for him

Contents : Ranpo Edogawa x gn! Reader, fluff, that's about it actually

Oh boy...

How do I even start about this guy.

Ranpo seems like the type to say he doesn't "have time for a lover" cause he's too busy being the world's greatest detective or something. But with you? That all comes crashing down.

You had been newly recruited to the Agency and had your first interaction and introduction with Ranpo. Of course on the outside you don't notice anything off. His heart is speeding up at your voice like it's a notification after a risky message.

But hey this isn't about how you two met, this is about him being your boyfriend!

Dear Lord he's so clingy it hurts. Your trying to do something as simple as sorting files? He's attached to your hip chewing on whatever candy you had in your desk drawer.

Speaking of candy, he has his own little "emergency" stash in your desk. Mostly for when he just wants to plop into your lap and annoy you.

Surprisingly, he'll share his candy if he's feeling generous.

"(Naaaame)" You hear the almost whining sound of your boyfriend walking over to your desk, throwing a thick black book onto the surface. Probably another one of Poe's novels he finished way too quickly and got bored of. "Do you need something swe-" your words are interrupted by him taking a seat right on your lap. He opens a little drawer connected to your desk and takes out a small bag of hard candy, unopened. You've gotten so used to this you don't even question it. He opens the bag and pops a small red candy into his mouth. Digging through the bag he hands you a piece of your favorite flavor, holding it up to your lips. The hard goes past your teeth as a bit of the sugar coating gets onto your lips. Without seemingly ANY shame he presses a kiss to your lips, gently getting the excess sugar. How sweet...hehe pun intended.

He is a lot more affectionate out of office though, when you're both at home in your shared apartment.

You don't even get time to change into more comfortable clothes! He's already attached to your hip again.

"Ranpo...can you at least let me change first?"

"Nah, you can figure it out"

He uses pet names like it's your own name. Sugar, Sweetheart, Darling, Etc

"Hey stop moving so much!" Ranpo was currently buried into your chest, you two laying in your now shared bed. You weren't moving much actually, he was just being particularly clingy tonight. Though there's one thing that would always calm him. You grab his face between your hands, peppering soft and tender kisses against his skin. He melts into the touch and relaxes almost in an instant. "Sugar..." He doesn't even know what he's attempting to say or ask. He drifts off into a peaceful sleep in your arms <3

His love language is words of affirmation.

PRAISE HIM DAMN IT. DOESN'T MATTER HOW SMALL, DO IT.

He wins against Poe for the what... hundredth time?? PRAISE HIM.

Ranpo tosses yet another one of Poe's novels onto the bedside table, once again figuring out the mystery far too easily and getting bored. You lean over to him and place a sweet kiss on his forehead. "You figured it out that fast? Impressive. You did very well my dear" his face flushes red. Ranpo doesn't flusher easily but god praise makes him melt, especially from you.

#fanfic #fluff #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #bungou stray dogs ranpo #ranpo edogawa x reader

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i-luvsang · 11 months

Text

candy bars and candied hearts — park seonghwa

gn!reader , grumpy!seonghwa x sunshine!shy!reader , college!au , fluff , cw: food mentions, disgustingly cute , wc: 1.7K , 🎧anon YOUR IDEA IS SO CUTE i hope you enjoy <33 oh also everyone take note that the vision here is devaju!hwa you know the ponytail hkjKJFHSK

✧ seonghwa isn’t exactly known to be mean, in fact he can be polite to people he doesn’t know well

✧ but that’s about the extent. he’s polite and when he decides he doesn’t want to keep talking to you, that’s when he gets grumpy

✧ again, he’s not mean per se but his reputation is convincing enough that most people know not to push it

✧ so as someone who’s quiet and conflict-avoidant, you’ve never been eager to talk to this handsome boy you’ve had in a few of your gen-ed classes

✧ (despite thinking that he is, indeed, quite handsome)

✧ and until one fateful (and very cold) winter day, you don’t ever speak with him, considering a reason to do so never arose

✧ but, just your luck, you left your student id in your room and are now locked out of your dorm

✧ this wouldn’t normally be the end of the world, but your roommate is in class and no other friends in your dorm are answering their phones

✧ you’re about to give up waiting around for someone to walk out of the building or even past it and instead make your way to the student help center

✧ but the once softly falling snow quickly picks up to near blizzard-like conditions just steps away from the dorm’s overhang and you immediately turn back, not wanting to brave that without your winter coat on

✧ you decide to sit down right beside the door to avoid the blowing snow and hope desperately for someone to come and save you from your shivering state

✧ and it seems your prayers are answered when you catch sight of a bundled up figure making their way through the snow, seemingly headed to the next dorm complex

✧ “excuse me!” you call out, hoping you’re loud enough to be heard

✧ thankfully the figure turns towards you, still unrecognizable through the thick snow

✧ catching sight of your pitiful state, the mystery student makes their way out of the snow and under the overhang

✧ you stand, and recognize him immediately; his features are hard to forget, along with his reputation

✧ “uh– sorry to bother you, but could you please just swipe your student id for me? i left mine in my room and i’ve been out here forever. i swear i’m a student here, i’m in your–”

✧ “sustainablility gen-ed class.”

✧ you look at him in surprise when he finishes your sentence, not having expected seonghwa to recognize you

✧ “r-right.” you stare at him, seemingly caught under his intense gaze

✧ then he shocks you further, leaning in close to you and utterly confusing you until you hear the sound of the door opening

✧ “thank you!” you quickly turn and open the door before it can close again as he moves away from you

✧ he just nods and hums lightly in acknowledgement

✧ just as he turns away from you, you speak again

✧ “can i buy you lunch or something sometime?” he turns to see your shy smile

✧ he quirks an eyebrow and you suddenly realize what your suggestion must have sounded like

✧ “uh, that’s not what i meant,” you mumble a bit. “just as a thank you!”

✧ you don’t see the way that he fights a smile, finding himself recognizing that you’re genuine in your words, not just another person trying to take him out for his pretty face

✧ but he just gives a light shrug. “it’s no big deal. see you thursday.”

✧ and with that he disappears back into the snow, barely giving you a chance to say goodbye

✧ despite him brushing off his good deed, you intend to make it up one way or another, so you make sure to arrive to your shared class early

✧ you drop off a candy bar and note at his normal spot, then rush up to your own to hopefully get a peek of his reaction

✧ when seonghwa walks in, he immediately notices something at his usual seat and strides over to check it out

✧ his favorite candy bar and a note: thanks again! hope you like this candy alright.

✧ he looks around, bewildered at first until he catches your eye

✧ you send him a little wave along with a sweet smile and he curses at his heart for skipping a beat

✧ it’s a tiny bit unnatural for him, but he forces a small smile back before sitting down and turning his attention to the professor who’s just started the lesson

✧ yet, your unnecessarily sweet gesture sticks in his mind, following him around like some sort of soft kitten who just wants to play, and who seems to be completely undeniable

✧ and undeniable you are, because he finds himself walking up to you the next week after class waving your note around just a bit

✧ “so? how’d you know my favorite candy bar?”

✧ “just a lucky guess,” you shrug, but fail to hide your smile

✧ annoyingly enough, he seems to find your smile contagious and has to fight off one of his own

✧ he instead quirks that eyebrow at you again, “no, really. how’d you know? did you ask hongjoong or something?”

✧ you let out a small laugh. “no, i didn’t ask hongjoong. that’s your best friend, right?”

✧ he nods at your question, so you continue

✧ “i saw you eating that kind during class once. i only noticed because it’s my favorite too, and seeing you eat it made me go to the nearest store and buy one right afterward. so i didn’t know it’s your favorite, but i figured you’d like it well enough. good to know it is your favorite though”

✧ “why? so you can buy me another one in case i save you from being locked outside of your dorm again?”

✧ you laugh a bit, “you never know!”

✧ “are you saying you’ll forget your id in your room again?” he teases

✧ “i said you never know! which means i may or may not. or maybe there’ll a different reason,” you shrug playfully

✧ you’re surprised at how easy, comfortable even, it is to converse with him, but not opposed to it in any way

✧ in fact, you’re quite pleased by the way he’s continued to approach you after class making up new things to talk about

✧ and you begin making up reasons to buy him candy bars and sending his heart fluttering with your silly and sweet notes

✧ i was picking one up for myself, so i grabbed one for you too :))

✧ thanks for sending me the notes for class i missed!

✧ thanks for walking me home last night!

✧ hongjoong told me you were sick a few days ago. feel better!

✧ just because! <3

✧ and more and more until he can’t deny the very, very soft spot for you he has, the one that his friends won’t stop teasing him about

✧ until he leaves a candy bar of his own for you

✧ there’s no note, but you’ll never know that’s because he spent an hour writing and re-writing notes until he completely gave up

✧ the grin on your face when you see his gift is something beyond precious to him, something he’d love to bottle up and wear on a chain around his neck

✧ of course, you run up to him after class with that same heart-melting grin

✧ “so what’s this all about?” you show off the candy bar

✧ “thanks for getting me so many candy bars,” he teases, trying to keep a straight face

✧ “right, of course. how could i forget?” you roll your eyes, playfully shoving him. “seriously though. why?”

✧ “just cause.”

✧ you repeat the phrase in a deep voice, mocking him. “yeah, i believe you.”

✧ “does there have to be a reason?” he argues

✧ you shrug, “not always. but this time, yes.”

✧ “why?”

✧ “because it’s you. you wouldn’t do this without a reason.”

✧ seonghwa tries to ignore the fact that you’re absolutely right, intent on pretending not to know what reason you’re talking about

✧ “what do you mean? i’m a very generous person.”

✧ at that you scoff. “don’t kid yourself! you’re known to be just about the grumpiest person on campus. you know your friend wooyoung came up to me the other day begging to know how i ‘seduced’ you.”

✧ seonghwa groans in embarrassment “god, wooyoung came up to you? never listen to anything he says, please.”

✧ you shrug. “he was funny! don’t be so mean,” you scold jokingly

✧ he lets out an internal sigh of relief, thinking you’ll drop the subject when you don’t push it immediately

✧ and yet, he curses himself internally as well, ready to be a bit of a coward and not say anything to you about why he impulsively bought and placed that candy bar on your desk

✧ but you, in all your curiosity and innocence, have to understand why he gifted you a candy bar back

✧ “tell me why? please, hwa?”

✧ that really gets him; your soft, begging voice and the sweet name you call him has him in a puddle at your feet

✧ he lets out a frustrated groan, similar to the one he let out at the news of wooyoung approaching you, and for a moment, you’re afraid you’ve pushed it too hard and have started to annoy him

✧ but then he stops short in his steps, causing you to you the same

✧ you look at him in confusion, taken aback slightly by the look in his eyes, and even more so by his gentle hands that make their way to softly cup your cheeks

✧ “because you are the most adorable thing on the face of this earth and i want to kiss you so bad”

✧ with your breath snatched away, you really, really have to fight for words

✧ “oh,” you squeak out, too surprised to be embarrassed

✧ “can i do that? please?”

✧ now you’re the one that’s melted into a puddle on the floor, quick to nod and whisper out a breathless “yes, please”

✧ the way he presses his lips to yours is softer than anything you’ve felt before, a stark contrast to his normal smirk, taught eyebrows, and cold expression

✧ when you part, he sends a sweet look into your eyes before pulling away, suddenly back to his serious demeanor

✧ really he’s just shy, and you know it

✧ so you take his hand in yours and smile wide for the both of you

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fyotherat · 7 months

Note

May i request headcanons of Ranpo, Dazai, Lucy and jouno with a s/o who hates being alone?

Like always afraid of being alone with their thoughts and uses other people to distract themselves from them and is afraid of them leaving and abandoning them? Could be angst or fluff or both i dont really mind!

-🥀

Abandonment Issues

Characters: Ranpo, Dazai and Jouno

Warnings: None I assume?

Note: Thank you for requesting! I wrote for Lucy but I'll share it together with Yosano and Higuchi on a second part!

Ranpo

It wasn't usual for you to be separated in the first place, you two were always clinging to each other like koalas.

Because of that, it took a while for him to catch a glimpse of how you felt and behaved when left alone.

He couldn't deny that he felt the same in some situations, you are what feels like home to him, and he never enjoyed leaving your side.

As much of a direct person he is, he wouldn't directly confront you about it, he knew you couldn't help it.. so he decided to do his part to make you feel as safe as possible even without him by your side.

Long cuddle sessions are a must before any mission, or any outing for that matter! He will subtly do his best to let you know he isn't going anywhere.

If he has to be gone for a while, he would make sure to leave some of your favorite candies around the house for you to find, I can even imagine him leaving sticky notes with random compliments and cute faces drawn on them!

"Da-daan! y/n found the hidden candy! 10 points from the world's greatest detective!(･v<)☆"

And if you need a distraction? He would be glad to leave some of Poe's newest mystery novels for you to solve, they're too easy for him anyway!

Dazai

He is similar, even if he doesn't show it to you, he always has that lingering anxiety about you leaving him behind.

He knew it was unlikely but.. what if you somehow learned about his past? Learned about the horrendous things he did without a second thought..? Or maybe you would just find someone better than him..

With those thoughts always in the back of his mind, he didn't have a problem catching onto yours either, he was sharp after all.

It would take a while for him to find a solution or something to distract you from those thoughts.. he didn't have the best ways of distraction, as his first resolute was turning to the bottle, and the fact that he sometimes disappeared for days didn't really help your case.

But he had to find a way to ease your mind and distract you from those thoughts and fears.

He started with small gestures, maybe draping his coat over your shoulders before leaving to visit a crime site would suggest to you that he will be back?

He already declares his undying love to you a hundred times a day, but that was just a part of his personality, playful and teasing.. so he decides to do something a bit more proper, at least before long missions.

Taking your hands in his, he would lean in with a promise, a promise he swore he'll never break.

"No matter what, I'll come back home to you."

Jouno

The hardest case is by far Jouno... He knows how attached you are to him, and something about it brings joy to this sadistic man. Saying words like this.. with that damned smile..

"My my, can't live without me y/n? Too bad I have to leave for work now."

His words of teasing weren't helping you at all, even a small joke about him 'maybe not coming back' from a mission made your stomach curl.

One day, after a long mission that took him away from you, he returned home just to pause at the doorstep, with his sharpened senses he could hear your silent tears.

But the question was.. why were you crying..? It couldn't be because you felt alone.. right..?

With a sigh, he opened the door, closing and locking it behind him.

That night, he finally caved in to listen to your growing fears and your displeasure about his teasing.

How could he keep hurting you for his own amusement when you clung onto him so tightly and sobbed silently in his arms..?

#bsd x reader #jouno x reader #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader #bsd headcanons #dazai osamu x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #edogawa ranpo x reader

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ckret2 · 4 months

Text

Chapter 33 of human Bill is still the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Stan takes Bill to get fillings from a creepy dentist in the back of a white van. And also they're handcuffed together the whole time.

Hijinks ensue.

Stan was startled from reading the paper by a shrill up-and-down whistle. Bill trotted into the kitchen, his voice a singsong lilt: "Incoming!"

Stan lowered the paper to glare at Bill. "Still doing that, are you?"

"Of course! I'd hate to scare you." Bill took the chair across the kitchen table from Stan. "Gooood morni—"

"Go away." Stan determinedly returned his attention to an article about the deathball arena construction.

Bill laughed. "You're funny. Anyway!" He noted Stan's plate of eggs and salsa was hidden behind his newspaper, and quietly slid the plate across the table as he spoke. "I need you to do me the teensy, tiniest little favor—"

"Nope."

"Take me to your dentist."

"No." Stan didn't even lower his newspaper. "The last time I took you anywhere, you almost made my niece cry, my brother left a Shopliftaholics Anonymous flier on my bed, and all I got out of it was a crummy ring. You wanna go somewhere, talk to Soos."

But, Bill noted, Stan was wearing said crummy ring. "Spend a day with that loser?" He rolled his eyes. "Please. I'd rather pry out my fingernails."

"You'd probably enjoy that, you freak."

"Not the point." Bill stuffed half an egg in his mouth. "Anyway, it has to be you. I need fillings, and Dr. Illing does them for free."

Stan squinted over the top of his newspaper. "How do you know about Dr. Illing?"

"What part of 'all-seeing eye' don't you get?"

Dr. Illing was a wandering dentist who spent the warm summer months in Gravity Falls. He squeezed his van and trailer into alleys between businesses in town, where he both lived and provided dental services until the police caught wind and chased him and his van out into the woods for a few days. On days with good weather, he'd pop open the back hatch of his nondescript trailer and set up a sign that read "COME INSIDE! FREE CANDY (for new patients)". He didn't attract many customers.

What really made him stand out was his unusual pay structure. He charged typical rates for regular teeth cleaning and dental maintenance; but if a patient had a cavity, he gave them a gold filling for free, and he paid them if he needed to pull their teeth.

Stan thought he was terrific. He hadn't had to pay for dental care in thirty years! Granted, he also wore dentures now; but hey, Dr. Illing had helped pay off Ford's mortgage, and at least the dentures were on the house.

Bill said, "You're the only one in the shack who knows all the places Illing might set up shop. Besides, he might be less jumpy in front of a stranger if an existing patient can vouch for it."

"I can see where you're coming from," Stan said. "But my answer is no, because I don't wanna."

Bill scowled in irritation. He sat back and ate another of Stan's eggs as he reconsidered his approach.

"Stanley—I'm a simple shape," he said. "A simple shape who's used to being coated peak to base in pure, lustrous, 24-karat gold. Having skin makes my skin crawl. I don't need any dental work done, these teeth are fine—but I'd really, really like just a bit of gold, somewhere on my body, so I feel a little more like myself in my final days."

Stan muttered, "You're trying to appeal to sympathy I don't have, Cipher."

"And then, once I'm dead," Bill went on, "I suppose I'll be leaving behind a corpse with a mouthful of free gold that whoever's disposing of my remains can do whatever they want with, do you catch my meaning Stanley?"

Stan lowered his newspaper just enough to grimace at Bill. "That's absolutely disgusting," he said. "But okay, I'm bribed!" He tried to fold the newspaper. "If you want your mouth to fund me and Ford's next year of globe-trotting, fine by me. Least you can do for messing up our summer."

"Mhm." Bill shoveled the last egg into his mouth while Stan was distracted by the paper and slid the plate over to Stan's side.

Stan slapped the paper down. "But we're not telling Ford about this. Agreed?" He offered a hand to shake.

"Agreed." Bill took Stan's hand, with the wrong hand—but before Stan could figure out what to do with that, Bill jerked his hand back like he'd been burned. "We'll take this to our graves."

"Or to your grave, anyway!" Stan laughed loudly, slapping the table.

Bill watched him with a forced smile. "Great. Deal made. Let's go get the magic friendship bracelets and—"

"Ohhh no," Stan said. "I'm not trusting a little bit of colored lace and some mystical hocus-pocus to keep you contained. If we're going anywhere, I'm making sure you can't escape."

"Okay," Bill said, a touch warily. "Fine. How?"

####

Soos took the handcuffs out of his toolbox, removed the key and stuck it in his pocket, and asked, "What side do you want it on?"

"Left," Stan said. "Gotta keep my punching arm free." Bill rolled his eyes.

Soos closed the cuffs on Stan's left wrist and Bill's right, then tightened Bill's half until it actually held his tiny wrist. "There."

"Ha!" Stan grinned at Bill. "Try escaping that!"

"I wasn't planning to escape."

"Sure, pull the other one." Stan pointed toward the door. "Now... to the car!"

####

They stared in dismay at Stan's car.

The El Diablo was a classic of the 1960s American automotive industry—and it was in terrific condition. (Notwithstanding the recent dents, scrapes, and keyed scratches in the paint reading "TRICK-OR-CHEATER!!") It came with the features standard to American cars of the time, like a steering wheel on the left, and a wide front bench that provided space for multiple passengers to sit to the driver's right side.

Bill was handcuffed to Stan's left side.

"Wow. You're stupid," Bill said.

"I'll break your smart mouth."

"What do I care, we're headed to the dentist anyway." He sighed. "Okay! Let's go inside and tell Questiony how stupid you are."

Stan did not want to tell Soos how stupid he was. "No! How do you know I didn't do this on purpose? Maybe having my right arm free is more important than—er... driving."

Bill considered that with pursed lips. After a pause, he ventured, "Do you want me to drive—?"

"No, no, nope, I am not letting you drive my car, under any circumstances, ever! Not a chance!"

"Then how are we doing this?"

####

Stan gripped the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles white and jaw clenched.

Bill was uneasily cuddled up against Stan's right side. The handcuff forced him to stretch his right arm across Stan's chest.

They were both wearing tank tops. Their bare upper arms were plastered together with sweat.

They were getting cricks in their necks from how far they were tilting their heads away from each other.

On the radio, a hit 50's soul song crooned romantically, "Oh, my sweet love... you're my lovely sweetie... and I never love you more, than when you're pressed to my side... as we go for a sweet loving car ride..." Neither of them could reach the radio dial without touching each other even more. They'd silently decided to pretend as hard as possible that they couldn't hear the radio.

"Welp," Stan said. "Out of all the times I've been handcuffed in a car, this is one of the worst."

####

They spotted Dr. Illing's "FREE CANDY" sign posted surreptitiously near the barrel and crate factory, and circled the block to park the car in front of a business that looked responsible enough to file a missing persons report if the car was still abandoned there by nightfall.

They tumbled out of the driver's side door with a maneuver that looked like a cross between a waltz and a mugging. Stan kicked the door shut. As they untangled themselves, in a surprisingly decent impression of Stan's voice, Bill said, "Gotta keep my punching arm free. How's that working out for you?"

"Bold words from a guy in punching range, you little—" As Stan finally separated himself from Bill and straightened out, he caught sight of Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland halfway up the block. "Oh, great. Cops. Exactly what you want around when you're doing something weird." Stan shook his head. "Well, as long as we go the other way and don't make eye contact—"

"Hi Darryl! Hi Edwin!" Bill stood on his toes and waved wildly. "Hey! Working hard or hardly working? Haha!"

"Oh, hey Goldie!" Durland waved back, and he and Blubs headed their direction. "How've you been, did you have a nice Summerween?"

"Ahh, I was stuck in the house—"

"Bill," Stan hissed. "Whaddaya think you're doing? Do you want them asking questions?"

"Hey," Durland said, "Why're you handcuffed to Stan?"

Bill turned toward Stan. He smiled at him. It was a smile that said I did not think this through.

"You need some help there?" Blubs asked. "I bet we've got a key that matches that handcuff model."

Stan bet Bill would love to accept that offer and go traipsing off with the cops. "Nope! That's fine! Thank you officers, but we're keeping the handcuffs on," Stan said. "Because." He paused. "They're necessary. For... uh... for me."

The cops and Bill watched him expectantly. Bill had that awful gleam in his eyes that he got when he saw an opportunity to make up a story.

"Because I'm old," Stan said. "It's to keep me from wandering into traffic."

Bill laughed, "Yep, that's true!" He jabbed Stan's shoulder with a finger (harder than necessary, he thought). "This guy's cataracts are so bad, sometimes he asks us if he's dying because all he a see is a white light in a dark tunnel! And the way his mind's going, woof—"

Stan growled, "All right you don't have to lay it on so thick—"

"—he's so addled it's like he's completely forgotten the last century of technology, he'll just walk right off the curb and expect the horse-drawn carriages to stop for him—"

"Hahaaa, but we won't bore you with my medical history!" Stan jerked on the handcuffs. "C'mon, Goldie, you're gonna make me late to my heart doctor appointment. You don't want my life on your hands, do you?"

Bill murmured, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Hold on," Blubs said. "You can't see? Didn't we just see you get out of the driver's seat of your car?"

Stan and Bill exchanged a look. Stan said, "Goldie's giving me directions."

"Oh! That makes sense," Durland said.

"All right," Blubs said, "We'll let you get to your doctor's appointment. You folks have a nice day."

As the cops left, Bill called after them, "You too! Hey, I'll see you guys at Rainbow Club!"

"See you there!" Durland turned to Blubs. "Y'know, I think Goldie's a step up from that seeing-eye bear."

Bill and Stan eyed each other. "All right, you're not bad at improv," Bill said. "I can respect a decent actor."

"You too," Stan said grudgingly. Bill looked at Stan like he expected a little more than that; but Stan kept his mouth shut. Bill didn't need the encouragement.

####

Dr. Illing's "FREE CANDY" sign leaned hopefully near a gap in the fence around an overgrown lot by the barrel factory. The gap was large enough that a reasonably limber human could duck through with little difficulty; however, Stan was old and Bill was still controlling his alien body like a rookie puppeteer learning the marionette, so they circled halfway around the lot until they found a gate in the fence to push open. They trod across scraggly grass, a row of dying mushrooms, and years-old litter to reach an unmarked white van hooked up to a camper trailer.

The back hatch of the trailer was flipped up to serve as a makeshift metal awning, and inside, a tall, spindly man was snoring atop a military cot in his underwear, using a white lab coat like a blanket. Stan cleared his throat loudly, and when that didn't disrupt the snoring, knocked on the side of the trailer. "Hey! Doc!"

Dr. Illing jolted upright with a yelp, seized an enormous wireless power drill off the floor to point at them like a gun, lowered it slightly as he registered he wasn't under attack, then realized he was nearly naked and yelped again. He tumbled off the cot, flailed his way to his feet, and turned his back to them as he jerked on his coat and buttoned it. "Just—just a second!" He got on one sock, couldn't find the other, and gave up, pulling on his sneakers with one bare foot. "Sorry, so sorry, I must've—just—nodded off for a second, there—"

"Maybe we should have made an appointment," Bill said wryly. "He looks busy." Stan snorted.

Dr. Illing turned around, smoothing out his rumpled lab coat. He was a jumpy, twitchy man with heavy circles under his eyes, short badly-cut hair, and a 5 o'clock shadow that had evolved into a 25 o'clock shadow. His gaze darted nervously between their faces. "Sorry. Hi, hello, can I help you? Are you maybe here for a tooth extraction, or—or perhaps wisdom teeth removal...?" His gaze caught on Stan's face, and he started. "Stan Pines! I haven't seen you since I pulled your last tooth ten years ago! What are you doing here?" His brows creased in worry. "You're—you're not mad about that, are you—?"

"What? No! The dentures are—fine. They're actually lower maintenance than teeth. Sort of. In a way," Stan said. "No, I'm here to refer a new customer." He pointed at Bill.

Bill made a gesture like he was tipping an invisible hat. "Hi there!"

"A customer?" Dr. Illing said blankly. "Oh—yes! Of course, hold on—" He pulled a hospital curtain over the front half of the trailer to hide a dinette covered in laundry and old magazines, lifted one end of the military cot and slid a step stool under the legs to keep it raised, and tugged the arm of a dental light down from the ceiling to aim it at the chair.

Stan said, "So, do I get some kind of referral bonus, or..."

"Oh—sure, sure. Have a, uhh..." Dr. Illing opened a heavy yellow and black tool bag, pulled out a battered cookie tin, withdrew a gold coin, and offered it to Stan. "One of these or something, here."

"Huh." Stan inspected it. No idea what currency it was, but a gold coin was arguably cooler than actual cash.

The dentist batted aside the hospital curtain to grab a tiny stool from the dinette, shook a damp towel off the seat, placed the stool beside the cot, and sat. "Okay!" He clapped his hands. "New customer! What can I do you for?"

Bill had been gazing in naked longing at the bag hiding the gold coins; but at the question, he looked up with a grin. "I'm here for fillings!"

"Ah! Wonderful. No charge for fillings, of course." He started rummaging through his tool bag for supplies. "Do you know which teeth need them?"

"Whichever you think would look best with some," Bill said. "Driller's choice!"

Dr. Illing stopped rummaging to give Bill a perplexed look. "I—sorry, come again?"

"I said I'm leaving it in your hands." Bill climbed into the trailer and put his free hand on Dr. Illing' s shoulder. "I'll be straight with you, Frankie: all that matters is that my teeth do not currently have any gold in them, and I want that to change by the time I leave. I'm not too picky about the details beyond that."

The dentist stared at Bill, then glanced at Stan for confirmation. Stan shrugged and nodded. "Oh-kay!" Dr. Illing wasn't quite smiling, but there was a strange, eager gleam in his eye. "Super! This'll be fun!" He gestured for Bill to sit on the cot. "Let's see what I have to work with."

He ushered Stan in, and pulled the trailer's hatch shut.

####

"Your teeth are amazing," Dr. Illing said, voice hushed with awe. "Perfectly white. Who's your usual dental hygienist? Did you just get these cleaned?"

"Nope," Bill said, forgetting for the third time that humans keep their teeth and their voice in the same hole and he shouldn't talk with the dentist's fingers in his mouth. Dr. Illing quickly pulled his hand back. "Just basic toothpaste, floss, and dish soap."

Dr. Illing shook his head in disbelief. "Well, they look amazing. And no wear at all, remarkable... Have you ever considered having any of these pulled? Do you mind if I take a few pictures?"

Stan shuddered as the dentist pulled out an old film camera and started snapping photos. "Yeesh. I forgot how creepy you are. Kinda glad I ran out of teeth."

Dr. Illing straightened up, snapped off the dental light, and sighed. "Well, I'm sorry to say that all your teeth are pristine. Not a hint of cavities—not even plaque. It'd be a shame to drill such pretty specimens. You're sure you don't want one pulled...?"

Stan grimaced, but Bill pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if he were considering a perfectly normal question. "As fun as that sounds, I said I want to leave with gold today, and the whole extraction-and-implantation process for gold teeth takes ages. Unless you happen to have a little secret magic trick to speed up the process?" Bill laughed, fixing Dr. Illing with a piercing stare.

Dr. Illing looked nervous. "Er—no."

"Then just the fillings. But who knows, maybe I'll feel naughty and be back in a couple of weeks." Bill laughed again. "Just pick a couple of your least favorite teeth to drill into!"

"Okay, suit yourself." Dr. Illing shrugged and fished around in an overstuffed cardboard box under the dinette table. "Let's gas you up and get drilling."

"You can skip the sedative," Bill said. "I don't mind a little pain. I prefer it, actually! It adds some zest to the experience..." He trailed off as he caught sight of the label on the gas canister Dr. Illing had pulled out. He pointed at a word, "I thought that additive was illegal."

Dr. Illing flinched guiltily. "Not in the state where I got it."

"Oh, buddy. I didn't realize I'd climbed into the party van!" Bill settled back on the cot, laced his hands behind his head, and got comfortable. "You know this stuff has something like sixty percent odds of causing hallucinations? Most people get either haloes around lights, or spiders. Go ahead, gas me—I wanna find out which I am."

####

In five minutes, Bill was overjoyed to report that the dental light had a spider halo. He did not explain what this meant.

Since Stan had typically been under anesthesia himself whenever Dr. Illing operated on him, this was the first time he'd had an opportunity to watch the dentist at work. Stan discovered that when Dr. Illing drilled into a tooth, he didn't suck the resultant dust up with one of those little dental vacuums with a plastic tube Stan was more familiar with. Instead, when a bit of dust had accumulated, he reached in with what looked like a cotton swab, wiped up the tooth dust, and scraped it off into a Petri dish; and only then did he use the vacuum to suck out any saliva and continue. Was he saving the leftover tooth dust? He was an even bigger creep than Stan had thought.

By all appearances, Bill didn't handle the gas well. It wasn't that it made him sick, or that he wasn't having the time of his life. It just made him completely forget how to operate a human body. When Dr. Illing told him to hold his mouth open, he also held his eyes open until they watered; and whenever he lost the battle to keep them open, he automatically shut his mouth too, often to his own peril as Dr. Illing shouted about the drill jostling. Within ten minutes, Dr. Illing had given up on convincing Bill to keep his mouth open and instead started giving him blink breaks when he could shut his mouth.

It helped some, but they couldn't do anything about the fact that Bill had fully forgotten he couldn't talk while getting dental work done, and kept up a regular chatter—during which he cheerfully mentioned he'd died recently, attempted to explain that the entire universe was actually an elaborate hologram projecting from the "true" third dimension, and asked Dr. Illing all about the cruise to Panama he'd recently stowed away on (which the dentist hadn't mentioned). During one blink break, as Bill closed each eye separately, Dr. Illing leaned toward Stan and muttered, "So... what's her story?"

Stan tilted his head toward the Petri dish. "What's with the tooth shavings?"

Dr. Illing considered that, slowly nodded, and got back to work.

####

After several hours, Dr. Illing wiped his brow and sighed in relief. "All right, that should do it. You've got fillings on five teeth now." Under his breath, he muttered, "It would have been two, if you hadn't kept talking while I was drilling."

Stan shook his head in amazement. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Yes," Bill said. "I've never felt pain like that before. What a rush."

"If you do come back for a tooth extraction, I'm getting a dental gag to keep your jaws open." Dr. Illing finished pulling out the array of clamps and barriers around the filling sites and wearily dropped down onto his stool. "There. The rest of the sedative should wear off gradually over the next few hours. Usually I tell patients to wait three or four hours before eating to let the swelling go down, but..." He waved wearily. "You can do whatever you want."

"Admit it, you like having an enthusiastic patient!" Bill heaved himself off the military cot, forgot he couldn't float, and immediately collapsed to the floor.

"Whoa there—" Stan helped Bill back to his feet. The handcuffs prevented him from getting an arm around Bill's back, so instead he helped keep him upright by firmly squeezing his upper arm. "I don't know about you, but I'm eating as soon as we get home. You made me miss lunch—and for some reason, I feel like I barely had any breakfast." Bill inexplicably found this declaration hilarious. Probably the sedative, Stan reasoned.

Bill waved at the dentist as Stan tugged him out the trailer's hatch, chattering the whole way: "Thanks for the gold, the sock you were looking for is a bookmark in the March issue of Floss Girls, Atlantis is rising as we speak, you have less than seven years to prepare for the plague, tell the little lady I said hi! Byyye!"

Stan squeezed Bill's arm tighter and muttered, "Would you cut that out?

Bill stumbled across the uneven lot. "I made up the part about Atlantis."

"Okay just shut up and stop saying weird things."

Bill attempted to walk sideways all the way back to the car.

####

Stan gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his arms were trembling.

Bill was sprawled all over the front bench, the dashboard, the seatback, and Stan's shoulders.

On the radio, a hit 80's R&B song with a sexy saxophone was playing, "Babe, the sad things you've been through... I swear I'll make it up to you... If it takes a thousand years..."

Bill was singing at the top of his lungs directly in Stan's ear, "I'LL WIPE AWAY ALL YOUR TEARS, WOO!—sax solo!—BA DA-DA DA, BA DA-DAAA—"

Stan turned off his right hearing aid.

Every once in a while Bill attempted to grab the steering wheel and turn it in time to the song, like a kid playing in a toy car; Stan had given up telling him to stop and instead started just smacking his hand away every time he tried. After another smack, Bill draped his arm awkwardly over Stan again, and announced, "I can't feel my tongue at all! I bet I can chew it off!"

"Don't do that."

"The last time my mouth was this numb, my girlfriend had just gotten done with me, haha." Bill stuck his finger in his mouth to experimentally poke at his tongue. "I couldn' thee for the nex' hour from all the thporeth—"

"I swear if you don't shut up—"

Bill flopped his arm across Stan again. "I just realized I haven't gotten any action since I died. Wow. What's normal for humans, couple times a week until you start the slow lingering decline toward death?" He looked straight at Stan. Stan could feel that side of his face start to sweat. "This isn't a weird time to bring that up, is it?"

"Bill, if you say one more weird thing, you're riding home on the roof of the car."

Bill was quiet for three seconds. And then he started poking Stan's bicep. "Your arm's a lot meatier than Sixer's! What's your favorite flavor of cancer?"

####

Mabel asked, "Why are you on top of the car?"

Bill—eyes wide, hair disheveled, one arm hanging through the driver's door, sprawled out clinging to the roof like his life depended on it—replied, "I don't know, it's all a blur."

Stan opened the car door and jerked on the handcuffs. "All right, get off my car."

Bill shakily climbed off, lay in the dirt, and tried to catch his breath. "That was fun. We should do that more often."

"Not on your life."

Eyeing the handcuffs, Dipper said, "What were you doing, anyway?"

"Nothing!" Stan snapped. "Why? Who's asking? I wasn't sneaking the demon out to get a shady back-alley dental procedure!"

Mabel and Dipper stared up at him.

Stan pointed at them. "What are you doing?"

"Going camping," Dipper said, turning so Stan could see his stuffed backpack.

"Something's been stealing Pacifica's alpacas at night, so we're going on a stake-out," Mabel said. "They took Giorgio. It's personal now."

"We think aliens might be abducting them," Dipper said.

From the ground, Bill said, "It's not aliens."

"Ah, taking the law into your own hands. It builds character," Stan said approvingly. "You need firearms?"

They exchanged a glance. "We're good," Mabel said. "Grunkle Ford loaned us his freeze ray. It seems less lethal."

As the kids headed toward the road, Bill finally heaved himself up. "Well, that was fun!"

"No it wasn't," Stan said.

"Your opinion doesn't matter. Anyway—" He shook his cuffed wrist. "We're home, get me out of this thing. It makes you look like my ugly accessory and I want my hoodie."

"I elevate your whole look!" Stan protested. "And I don't have the key, it's with Soos."

Mabel turned back to shout at them, "Soos is out! He's got a dinner date with Melody!"

Stan grimaced. "Uh-oh."

Bill shrugged and said, with a confidence Stan didn't share, "He left the key behind."

####

"Oh man, sorry dudes," Soos said over the phone. "I totally forgot I still had it. Yeah, it's on my key ring. Is that, like, gonna be a problem, or...?"

"It's fine," Bill said, sitting atop Soos's office desk and leaning all the way across it to reach the phone. "Just pass it through the phone, we'll catch it."

"What?"

"Ignore him." Stan shoved Bill's face away. Bill gave him a dirty look as he straightened out his eyepatch, which he'd finally gotten to put on once they were home. Stan spun the desk chair away from Bill so he couldn't try to join the conversation again. "He's hopped up on psychedelic laughing gas. When are you gonna be back?"

"Uh..." Soos thought for several seconds. "Nooot for a while. Abuelita and I were talking about maybe kind of staying the night?"

"Well—pfff—can't you duck out and bring the key?"

"Uhhh. I would but, this is the first time Abuelita and I are having dinner with Melody's parents, and I'm really worried about impressing them parents, and the casserole's about to come out, and I think they might judge me if I leave, it would probably ruin dinner..."

"Okay, fine. What if we drive over to get the key?"

Far louder than necessary, Bill asked, "Stanley can I drive this time—!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh sure, that'd be fine," Soos said. "I'll give you directions, Melody's parents' place is in Portland. You got a pen?"

Stan frowned. "Portland."

"Yep."

"As in, outside the magic bubble trapping Bill in town."

Soos paused. "Oh, right."

Well, Stan wasn't about to make Soos look bad in front of his future in-laws. He'd never had in-laws, but he'd seen enough sitcoms to know how messy that could get. "Never mind. We'll figure something out. You kids enjoy dinner." Stan hung up the phone, sighed, and turned to face Bill. (Bill had plucked a figurine of a bulky robot in a cute girly pose off of Soos's desk, and was staring at it in wonder, like he'd never seen overpriced anime convention merch before.) "You got any other bright ideas?"

"We could still call Darryl and Edwin..."

"No way," Stan snapped. "I am not calling the cops for help! Never gonna happen. I'd rather wait for Soos to get back in the morning if I have to!"

"Oh would you." Bill laughed scornfully. "And what do you plan to do until then?"

####

They got TV dinners and grumpily watched Cash Wheel together.

####

(This entire chapter was just an extended excuse to annoy Stan and Bill as much as possible. But mostly Stan. Thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed I'd appreciate a comment or reblog!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle stan #stanley pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(please pretend the first song sounds like Unchained Melody)#(please pretend the second song sounds like Careless Whisper)

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chocsra · 4 months

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"Sweep Me Off My Feet, Honey-coated Words."

Chuuya x fem! reader oneshot - 'My Demon' inspired (kdrama)

a/n: i haven't wrote like this in a while! lmk if u want this as a series!! ALSO THIS IS BASED OFF MANGA CHUUYA. NO BLUE EYES 🤕🤕

summary: after being chased by a mysterious killer, a gravity manipulator saves you, only to switch abilities with you, leaving him powerless unless you two touch.. but apparently, you've met before?

Who is a friend and who is a foe?

Misty skies flow through the light air of dark streets. 11:34 AM, that's enough to feel the pit of your stomach drop in fear, absolute horror. You feel your feet being dragged across asphalt streets even if you stumble or feel tears falling along the way. Just a few hours ago, you picked up an Uber sleepily, wandering a cold beach, another figment of a lonely night.

When you found yourself waking up on a dark road still seated in the car, the loneliness dropped for a second, goosebumps rose and eyes scanned. The mysterious Uber driver adjusted his cap so that it covered his face in the car's front mirror, you opened your phone hesitantly to check the app, only to find that your selected uber was 32 minutes away.

A disoriented stare ran from your phone to the back of his head, fear coursed through every vein, a lump caught in your throat, fuck.

Through a punch and a kick, you dashed out of the car and took rugged steps for preparation as you see your driver pull a sharp blade out, a box cutter. Rugged steps turned into uneven running as your feet clashed harshly onto the asphalt, sucking in sharp breaths, exhaling even sharper ones; the dry air piercing out could slice skin itself.

A dead end arose as you ran, hopeless dread pulling at your feet, the once fiery and piercing breath turned shallow as you trembled. The cold, dark air preparing you for an even colder blade piercing.. God knows where.

Then you saw him, him.

A man, not so tall, who drenched from the dark, emerged from the shadows. It was as if the glow of the moon reflected off his ivory, smooth skin. There was something about him that seemed so.. foreign. To his silky copper hair, bangs that framed his face messily, and a few specific locks that rested on his left shoulder - such an unusual haircut, one that showcased slight sweat and a disehelved look despite his fancy attire.

He had eyes that naturally seemed low-lided, tired stormy grey eyes that you could make through his long lashes; a shine that was printed on his undereyes, one that presented the curves of it. His pinkish lips were tugged into a soft smirk, his hands stuffed in pockets.

The man walked ever so carelessly, as if he were used to lurking in the dark, and watching others drown in it. An expensive raven fedora adorned his hair with a pristine chain hooking around the piece, along with a black bolo tie, a leather choker, and white button up shirt. A long overcoat was thrown loosely over his broad shoulders, with a fitted grey vest and black blazer underneath. You took in his black dress shoes and matching slacks, before he halted, almost making you.. choose between them.

Something about him was also off, incredibly off, one that made your insides swirl and rummage for an answer. So, who is a friend and who is a foe? Crime inhabited every street and alleyway in Yokohama, there may be no safe option, but there is safer.

"Help me!" You run up to the suited man, adrenaline coursed through every vein, pumping to your pounding heart. "He's.. he's trying to kill me!" The man averted his stormy eyes to you, on you, tilting his head as if he were trying to clarify your statement. "And what do I get in return?" A crisp, raspy voice rolled off his tongue like candy, but his words were anything but sweet.

You dart your eyes back to the walking killer, face contorting in confusion, "Consider it a favour." he rasps, sleepy cat-like eyes barely gazing at you. "A favour?" your brows furrow in disdain and repulsion, what kind of life threatening situation deserves a deal in return? A mere business exchange?

"My boss told me we needed more men for infiltration," he clicks his tongue, the glint of the sharp blade inching closer.. and closer. "I think you're perfect." He explains ever so vaguely, "I can't just agree to something so vague.." you purse your lips, head turning as time feels so slow, so slow and so dangerous, "Do you want to live or what?" the man downright scoffs. "Fine." you mumble, biting your inner cheek before he nods his head arrogantly, like you made a respectable, good, choice.

"Noted," the man responds as the criminal behind you lengthens the box cutter to it's max length, you whip your head around in fear before a crushing force pierces the man's chest, dropping the box cutter in the process, blood coughs out of his mouth as his back clashes into the car's front window. Glass shatters and the dashcam runs crushed, lines of blood dribble out the killer's temple and forehead, body disehelved and messily thrown. From the corner of your eye, you see the same shine of the redhead's dress shoe, perfectly angled at the fallen man as he chuckles darkly, hands still shoved in his pockets.

"We've been waiting for you," He inquires, casually striding to the bloody man, "You have a debt to pay." the words roll off his tongue so perfectly, each consonant, vowel, each felt dipped in honey, even as he grabs a fistful of the man's hair, baring his teeth in a smirk devilishly.

'You have a debt to pay' rang in your ears almost irrevocably, there was a catch to his deal, isn't there? A mystery man whose bones crushed under his foot so casually, the wet stainted lips the redhead had, it was covered in lies, deceit, wasn't it? So, who is a friend and who is a foe? If there's one person to trust, it's yourself.

Your feet broke from the shackles holding you in place, from the feeling of your gut, you should've trusted yourself from the beginning, you should've decided what you wanted for your fucking self. You took your feet and ran away from them both, whatever debt he has to pay, he could pay it, whatever deal you had to go through, could suck your fucking dick.

Crash.

The beaten man was thrown right in front of your path of running, landing harshly onto the road; you halted immediately as the pavement cracked and debris emerged. The stormy-eyed man kept his gaze set on the half-dead one, his bones were messily twisted, a look of agony and hatred sent like fluid to each of his veins.

"Miss," you heard a familiar, sugar-coated voice dripping to your attention. The man again, smug, arrogant face dropped for a second, not with a look of sincerity, but rather seriousness. It overtook your breath with the smell of his musky colonge and cigarettes.

"we had a deal too."

You stopped for a second, maybe more than that - he finally stuffed his hand out of his pocket and extended it to you, revealing a gloved, large hand. His fashion was intricately overdressed, you could see from head to toe, he was dripping in a virginal assortment of accessories - rich in flavour, and extravagant in taste. He extended his hand gentle but firmly, undertones of something more lurking under his refined gloves, as if grasping his hand would seal your unknown deal. You stared up at him through your lashes; unbeknownst and rather innocent.

Time is wasting, but is 'waste' a proper word for a moment so enchanting?

Then, a sudden roar of a car's lights awoken and came crashing onto you two, the man, clearly taken off-guard, grabbed your hand, and pushed both of you off the road. Suddenly, you feel the once enamouring misty air blind you as you feel a firm hand grasp onto your wrist, another arm wrapped around your shoulder. A limp, fleeting rush of air flew past you two, as you crash into the lake below you.

Dim shines of city lights prick through the surface of the airy water. Lukewarm but cold quivered and raked through your skin as your hair splays in the lake. Dark corals of reefs peek against your vision as you turn your head around, only to see the same man, your saviour, sinking in the water asleep, his grey eyes were closed shut as his long lashes compliment his skin underneath the shimmer of the moonlight, along with a glow of red outlining his features. His fedora was nowhere to be found, only revelling his silky copper locks. He, without the fedora looked familiar, a little too familiar.

Wait.

You remember him now, all too well.

Chuuya Nakahara.

"I'll be honest, I think blind dates are completely useless."

An elegant man dressed in a fancy black tuxedo had his arms folded in the chair across from yours, almost sleeping in such a fancy restaurant. He had glowly copper hair with bangs that framed his face quite nicely, the sunlight from the open window shining through his locks delightfully too. The man's hair was on the longer side too, so he had it pushed into a half-ponytail, how pretty.

"Since when was this a date?" a raspy, no nonsense voice grumbled from his pinkish lips, his eyes still pinched shut. "I'm sorry?" you scoff, "Didn't Mori set you up with me?" you scan your eyes around the restaurant intently, the whole place was empty, it seems that the restaurant was reserved empty just for this 'date'. "Mori?" the redhead perks his head up, now setting his undivided attention towards you, "Yeah.. Mori." you nodded your head slowly, hinting that your fellow classmate set you up on a blind date with one of his friends.

"Why? He's not really into stuff like that." his brows furrow at you, leaning forward in his seat, now manspreading. "He said that you were.. 'a ladies man.' I guess he thought we were a good match." you inhale deeply, leaning back onto your chair. "Tch," he scoffs, turning his head to the side, still smiling,

"I guess you could say that."

"So how did your date go?"

you were currently walking on campus, your classmate, Mori, bumping into you. "Like shit. You were so lying about the whole ladies man part!" you snicker, still slightly irritated, your friend looked a little offended for his friend, but sighed. "Looks aren't everything, y'know, he's a really good guy when ya get to know him."

You quirk a brow at your friends revelation, "Huh? Looks were all he had! He was cocky, an asshole, had the worst manners, the most secretive bitch I've met, and talked about some secret occult society he was in!" counting the amount of times your date pissed you off on your fingers, if you kept going, you would need more than two hands.

Your friend beside you raised a brow more than once, "Hold on, what the fuck are you talking about?" he motioned harshly, "That's what I'm asking you!" you halt your steps, turning to face him. "Why the fuck did you set me up with him?!"

"Relax, what was his name? Was he the guy with glasses, tall, black hair?" you dart your eyes around your surroundings completely confused, "What? His.. his name was Chuuya Nakahara, I think." your friend pulls out his phone to show a picture of four friends having a drink at a bar, one matching exactly his description. "That's him. Who the hell did you go out with?"

Well shit.

'Seriously?! That crazy bitch from the cafe?' you thought, submerged in water, bubbles floating from both of your mouths to the surface. Excruciatingly and hesitantly enough, you pulled his wrist from the sinking body of water, and swam to the nearest surface of land. Barely noticing the red outline of his body travelling to yours.

Chuuya awoke on a shallow pile of land, surrounded by the lake's water. He rubbed his temple sleepily as he groaned, seeing your sleeping figure through lazy eyes. What did he get himself into? The redhead pushed your hair out of your face to get a closer look, not minding when he sees your eyes fluttering open. Then, he saw a poking tattoo of black ink written across your neck.

A5158.

Several pants of flashbacks flow through his head, you rise disoriented, rubbing your head as you look up at him. He looks at you with discontent, eyes that usually told a powerful story, every speck of grey took you out of the honey he dipped his words in. But now, he looked shocked, almost unreadable; enigmatic.

"..What happened?" you mumble, unaware of the glowly red outline running along your figure, to each strand of your hair, to the curve of your arms. The redhead firmly held your wrist, the lines of red connecting to him, the curve of his shoulder, the juncture of his neck, even the sharp line of his jaw. A large wave of clear, water splash behind you two, filtering the gaps of sunlight capturing the slope of his cheek. Chuuya stammers, an unreadable desire chasing from him to you.

"What.. did you do to me?"

taglist: @sstarshroom @soleelia @tomiroro

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vilentia · 3 months

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First Valentine's Day

Ron Weasley x reader

Summary: Ron Weasley's first Valentine's Day at Hogwarts, filled with laughter, love, and magical moments.

****

In the hushed, frost-kissed corridors of Hogwarts, where whispers of magic and the echoes of laughter intertwined, a special day dawned. It was Valentine's Day, a time when even the most ancient stones of the castle seemed to pulse with the warmth of heartfelt confessions and the sweet nervousness of young love. For Ron Weasley, this day held a particular kind of magic, one that had nothing to do with spells or potions. This year, he wasn't just Ron, Harry Potter's loyal sidekick, or the sixth Weasley child. He was yours, and you were his, a fact that filled his heart with a blend of pride and nervous anticipation.

The morning found Ron pacing the common room, his palms sweaty and his mind racing. He had planned everything to the last detail, inspired by a story he had heard from Fred and George, albeit with a gentler, more personal touch, knowing well the difference between a prank and a gesture of affection. He had wrestled with his nerves, a bouquet of flowers in one hand—charmed to stay fresh and fragrant—and a box of Honeydukes' finest chocolates in the other, their contents a mystery even to him, hoping they would suit your taste.

You found him there, amidst his pacing, a smile playing on your lips at the sight. "Ron," you called out, your voice a soothing melody against the backdrop of his frantic heartbeat.

He turned, his face lighting up like the dawn. "Hey," he managed, voice cracking slightly, the simplicity of the greeting belying the depth of his emotions. "Happy Valentine’s Day," he said, thrusting the gifts towards you with a mix of eagerness and bashfulness.

Your laughter, light and genuine, filled the room, easing the tension from his shoulders. You accepted his gifts, admiring the flowers before opening the box of chocolates, each piece crafted with care, an assortment of flavors that spoke of thoughtfulness and a desire to please.

"Thank you, Ron. They're beautiful," you said, your eyes meeting his, a spark of shared joy dancing between you.

Encouraged, Ron took a deep breath, his next words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought, maybe, you'd like to go for a walk around the lake? I mean, it's cold, but it's also kind of nice out, and I thought—it might be nice. Together."

Your agreement was immediate, the promise of shared solitude more appealing than any crowded celebration.

As you both strolled, bundled in your scarves and coats against the chill, the conversation flowed more freely, touching on everything from the mundane to the magical, each word weaving a tighter bond between you.

At one point, Ron, in a burst of bravery fueled by the day's significance, reached for your hand. His fingers were cold but his grasp was warm, firm yet gentle. "You know," he began, a hint of mischief in his voice that belied his nervousness, "Fred and George once tried to convince me that the giant squid in the lake was actually a disgruntled mermaid transformed by a botched potion."

You laughed, squeezing his hand in return. "And did you believe them?"

"For about a minute," Ron confessed, his ears turning a shade redder, "until Hermione overheard and gave me that look of hers. You know the one. Makes you feel like you've lost a few dozen IQ points just by being in the same room."

The image of Hermione's exasperated expression brought another round of laughter, echoing softly across the lake's frozen expanse. The ease with which Ron shared stories, including those that poked fun at himself, endeared him even more to you. It was a vulnerability, a willingness to share his unguarded moments, that made the day feel even more special.

As the path wound closer to the water's edge, you both stopped to admire the view. The lake, a mirror to the sky above, reflected the cotton-candy hues of the setting sun. It was a breathtaking sight, one that lent an air of magic to the moment.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" you murmured, leaning slightly against Ron.

He nodded, his gaze not on the lake but on you. "Yeah, it is," he said, the depth of his feelings clear in his eyes. Then, taking a deep breath as if mustering his courage, he added, "You know, I've been coming to this lake since first year, but I've never seen it quite like this. It's like... being with you makes everything seem... better. Brighter."

Your heart fluttered at his words, the honesty and raw emotion in his voice striking a chord within you. "Ron, I feel the same way. Being with you, it's like finding a piece of myself I didn't know was missing."

For a moment, there was silence, save for the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant calls of birds returning to their nests. Then Ron, with a tentative yet hopeful smile, leaned in closer. "So, does this mean we can make this a tradition? You know, coming here every Valentine's Day?"

The question, asked with such hopeful earnestness, brought a smile to your lips. "I'd like that," you answered, your voice soft but filled with promise.

As the walk came to a close, Ron found a secluded spot, a private oasis amidst the vast grounds of Hogwarts. He turned to you, his blue eyes shining with a mixture of affection and earnestness. "I'm really glad I get to spend today with you," he said, the words heavy with sincerity. "I know I'm not the best with words, or... well, a lot of things, but being with you makes me want to be better. For you."

Your heart swelled at his admission, the simplicity of his words more precious than any grand declaration. You stepped closer, closing the distance between you, and whispered, "You don't have to be anything more than you are, Ron. You're already more than enough for me."

And in that moment, with the fading sunlight casting a golden glow around you, Ron leaned in, his kiss a sweet affirmation of the feelings you both shared, tender and hesitant, yet full of promise. It was a perfect reflection of your first Valentine's Day together—simple, genuine, and utterly unforgettable, a cherished memory in the making, set against the backdrop of the magical world that had brought you together.

As the day faded into evening, with stars beginning to twinkle in the sky like countless tiny lanterns, you and Ron made your way back to the castle, hand in hand, hearts full.

#ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley appreciation #ron weasley fic #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley x y/n #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley blurb #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter drabble #harry potter fic

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anisangeldust · 8 days

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Lavender Haze 𝜗𝜚⋆

did i have every intention to post this on 4/20? yes. but did i get so faded that i’ve had severe brain fog for the last day and a half? also yes 🫶🎀

Summary: Coriolanus sees you at a party with a particularly rough group of people and he just has to have you.

Pairing: Dealer!Coriolanus x Fem!Reader (Modern AU, Innocent!reader)

Warnings: DRUG USE AND ABUSE!, (mentions of: cocaine, weed, heroin, cigarettes, oxy/percs, and others), Mention of guns, mention of murder, mentions of ODing, mentions of rape, smut (p in v, fem!receiving oral) CNC/dub-con, impact play, masochism, minor gun kink.

A/N: dipping my toe into darker themes! happy late 4/20! (smoke responsibly)🎀🎀

It was painfully obvious you didn’t belong here, from the cloud of smoke settled around everything in the room, to the stray bottles of little white pills the attendees were popping like candy. It was all so foreign to you.

If your friends weren’t here, you’d have gone home the second you were invited in.

Coriolanus had been watching you, he was perfectly hidden in plain sight. Your cute little pink dress was like a magnet to his icy eyes, and the way you were stepping over discarded needles was almost endearing.

The uncomfortable look on your face grew as your headache got worse, the constant hotboxing starting to run its course on your untarnished little body.

Coriolanus decided to scoop you up and keep you safe before anyone else got their grubby hands on you, after all, he was a dealer; not a monster. And to have you taken advantage of by another seemed like a horrid option, so he went with the former.

“Hey darling, you look like you don’t belong here” Coriolanus cooed, walking up to you and making sure you knew he was safe.

“I don’t, my friends dragged me here, i don’t do this kind of stuff” your voice was small and a little timid, like a stray cat at a shelter.

“I can tell princess. how about you stay with me? i’ll get some fresh air, and i’ll make sure you’re safe” he reached around to pat the handgun in his pocket.

“Oh! O-okay.” You were in no position to deny this stranger, after all, he seemed very kind, and he was very handsome, tall with buzzed blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Don’t worry hunny, you’re safe” he teased and wrapped one of his strong arms around you. “wanna go sit outside? you can even sit on my lap” he offered as his hand drew light circles on your waist.

“That sounds great, my head really hurts” you smiled back and lean into the handsome stranger.

——

‘Coriolanus, his name was Coriolanus. Coryo he said to call him.’ was the thought swirling in your head as you sat on his lap while he rested on patio furniture.

“I’m a dealer baby, I have the drugs and then I sell them to people, ‘s how I make money, it’s quite profitable too” Coriolanus explained, the lit joint between his lips and large hand cupping your ass all adding to his appeal.

Every once in a while a few people would come up to him with cash, he’d hand them a bottle of pills, or a baggy of weed, but when a guy about his age with curly chestnut colored hair walked up, he asked for cocaine.

“Alright Creed, I’ll have to measure it here though” Coriolanus murmured as he counted the cash handed to him by this mysterious stranger and then placing the bills into your hands. “hold this for me pretty girl”. His voice a million times more soft and gentle than when he was talking to the ‘Creed’ guy.

“Ever cut coke before princess? ‘Course you haven’t, you’re too much of a good girl” he chuckled against your ear. Grabbing the scale next to him, he pulled out a small baggie of white powder from his coat pocket. After measuring exactly a gram, he took a credit card and carefully pushed the powder back into the ziplock baggie.

Coriolanus took the cash from your hands and pushed it into his pocket, taking the joint from his lips, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before blowing the smoke away form your face.

“Can I try?” Your voice squeaked out, the joint didn’t seem too scary, and you wanted to at least try something while you’re sat on the lap of a dealer.

“The joint? Oh baby, are you sure?” He teased and moved your hair out of your face.

“Yes, I wanna try it, please?” Your big eyes were something he just couldn’t resist, so he took the rolled up cannabis and placed it between your plump lips.

“Breathe in like you’re sucking on a straw baby girl, that’s it..” he held your hand and the joint, looking deeply into your eyes.

The moment the smoke filled your lungs, the taste of tar and skunk filled your chest, instantly you coughed and stared to tear up. “Ew! How do you do that all the time!” You cough and lean into Coriolanus’ touch.

“Told you babygirl, it’s gross” he teases and takes a long drag before blowing the smoke into your face with a chuckle.

“Coryo!” You scrunch your face and whack his chest

“C’mon baby, how about this, I’ll blow some smoke into your mouth okay?” He murmurs and takes another drag, holding your jaw open, he blows the smoke into your open mouth, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands reach up and cup his face, leaning into the sudden display of intimacy. He brings one of his large and calloused hands up and smacks your ass playfully, eliciting a giggle from your lips.

“Promise me you’ll never get involved in the heavy shit, smoking weed is bad enough, I don’t need your pretty little self dropping acid and then dropping dead” he murmurs between kisses.

“Never.. I’ll never” you promise him, knowing that you’re too much of a pussy to do anything beyond maybe shrooms.

“Good girl, and I’ll put a bullet into anyone who tries to sell you anything, you can’t trust anyone, they’ll get you woozy then rape your cunt baby, it’s not safe to do this shit.” He warns with absolute seriousness. How ironic.

“I won’t do any drugs Coryo, you have my word” you giggle gently and scoot up on his lap

“You little tease, need me to show you who you’re fucking with right now?” He jeers and throws the joint on the floor, grinding it beneath his heal before he picks you up and carries you to his, surprisingly nice, car.

“My place isn’t too far, I’ve made enough money for tonight, right now all I need is your pussy baby” he pays your thigh and buckles you in before climbing into the drivers door and closing it, immediately speeding off.

——

Coriolanus’ apartment was actually really nice, a pretty spacious area, a nice part of town, you’re surprised he doesn’t already have a lady to call his own. Though I suppose he does now.

“Nice isn’t it? Told you it’s profitable” he murmurs and locks the front door behind you two, immediately scooping you up for the second time that night and carrying you to his bedroom.

His hands are immediately all over you, and your hands all over him. He reaches and slips off his jacket, tossing it, the gun, his cash, and any access drugs, across the room.

Coriolanus almost immediately reaches up your dress and cups your pussy in his hand “fuck me, was it me who turned you on? Maybe my gun?” He teases.

“Coryo..!” You whine and buck your hips up like a bitch.

“That’s me, don’t worry baby, I won’t be too mean” he coos and pulls off your panties, throwing them into the pile of his stuff.

“Oh fuck me princess..” he murmurs and looks over your cunt. The visual in front of him is pornographic. Your pussy was glistening wet and puffy, your swollen and pink clit poking out of your folds a bit.

“Can’t resist baby-“ he cuts himself off by diving into your cunt like it’s his death row meal, the skilled muscle that is his tongue poking and licking up your sex.

“mmm! Coryo!!” You whine and hold his head (since he has no hair to hold on to) “so good! can’t.. oh god..” you buck your hips up and he hold you in place with his strong hands.

He continues to devour you, his nose every so often bumping your clit, eventually, he brings up his hand and starts to draw lazy circles around the bundle of nerves.

“Gonna cum! Coryo..! My tummy..” you whimper and lean your head back, savoring the feeling of your new, hot, drug dealer friend eating you out like your arousal was a sacred elixir.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer as you came against his face, grinding your hips and pressing his face against you while you rode out your orgasm.

A string of spit connected his lips and your cunt, his whole face flushed and sticky with your cum.

“Taste so good sweetheart” he groans and pulls your dress over your head, immediately unclipping your bra and attacking your, now very sensitive, nipples.

“mmm… so good for me, my good girl..” he groans and pulls you into his lap as he goes into a sitting position. Moving his attention from your tits to your lips. “Gonna ruin that perfect pussy, mold you into my perfect doll, use you whenever I want” he growls and pulls his hard, fat cock out of the confines of his pants.

Laying you on your back, he uses his hands to press your knees to your chest, allowing him the most perfect view of your dripping and sensitive cunt.

“So good baby girl” he praises as he slides his fat tip across your glistening folds.

“Please.. please.. need it so bad..” you blabber out and whine.

“I know baby, I know. Let me just..” he slips the tip in and growls “fuck me doll” he hisses and uses every bit of self restraint to not jackhammer into you.

“More! Please..!” You beg, his cock sliding into your tight walls inch by inch until the tip kissed your cervix

Coriolanus gave you a second to get used to his size before he started to pound into you mercilessly, his hips snapping to meet your clit. “Can see myself in your tummy baby, so good for me, ‘m so fucking proud of you doll” he groans and increases his pace impossibly faster.

“Gonna fucking cum.. you love being my cocksleeve huh? My pretty little fleshlight.” He coos and keeps up his impossible pace until you whine and groan, cumming the second time. He pulls out and tugs his cock twice before cumming on your stomach.

“Oh fuck princess, so fucking pretty huh?” He murmurs and hold your face, kissing your swollen lips.

“So good Coryo..” your voice is weak, as is the rest of your body, but before you can get up he stops you.

“You think I’m done? Very funny princess, maybe I’ll snort a line off your perfect tits” he teasingly thinks out loud.

You were in for a very long night.

#anisangeldust #coriolanus snow #angels yapping #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #hes so babygirl #tom blyth #⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚angel #angel dust #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #dealer!coriolanus #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #4/20 #420 #cocaine

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doodlesink · 7 months

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Having a Fudgy Christmas Time by Nancy Coco -- Book Review

Happy Tuesday! Having a Fudgy Christmas Time by Nancy Coco is out today. Stop by to learn more about this delightful A Candy-Coated Mystery Novella. Happy Reading!

https://bibliophileandavidreader.blogspot.com/2023/09/having-fudgy-christmas-time-by-nancy.html

#havingafudgychristmastime #nancy coco #nancy j. coco #cozy mystery #theavidreader #the avid reader #book review #kensington books #a candy coated mystery

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zepskies · 2 months

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Series Masterlist - Take Me Home

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you both have a past you’re running from.

AN: Welcome to my first ever Big Sky series! This is set towards the beginning of season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: (**18+ only!) Angst and grief/trauma, PTSD, canon murder mystery, eventual smut.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The TMH Playlist

Chapters:

Part 1: All of Her Days

Part 2: It's Not Right, But It's Okay

Part 3: Welcome Home

Part 4: A Past & Future Thing

Part 5: Not That Simple

Part 6: A Man or a Coward

Part 7: On the Edge of a Knife

Part 8: Take Me Home

Part 9: A Choice to Make

Series complete!

Bonus One-Shots:

A Good Man Is Hard to Find** When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

A Crime of Passion** When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

Comment below if you’d like to be tagged in this series!

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow

#Take Me Home Masterlist #Beau Arlen series #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #Beau Arlen smut #romance #hurt/comfort #fluff #jenny hoyt #denise brisbane #cassie dewell #Emily Arlen #Jensen Ackles characters #big sky season 3 #zepskies writes

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inawearyworld · 4 months

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free if you truly wish to be: chapter iii

plots are half revealed, and willy "mr accidentally steal yo girl" wonka gets his sorry ass saved by a woman wearing one of those "oh no my husband mysteriously floated away died" robes you see all over pinterest. (now there's a sentence i never thought i'd write.)

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

i would like to thank mr mathew baynton in that one bts interview for those bits and pieces of fickelgruber analysis that will totally now be used here. and also for being generally wonderful. thanks mat ilysm

also i thought it would be sort of funny for at least someone in this world revolving around chocolate to be lactose intolerant and then of course i had to turn it into something sad and poetic bc of Who I Am As A Person

enjoy!! and thank you for all the support on this fic so far!!

part two fic masterlist part four

She had a lot to think about that night.

Felix hadn’t returned home yet, and she started to worry that the fateful flying chocolates weren’t quite as harmless as advertised. The young man who’d made them, too, was swirling about her mind in a haze of schoolgirl blushes and piercing guilt.

Florence Fickelgruber had chosen her lot when she agreed to take on that name. Who was she to imagine a freer life, one of candy-coated dreams and a clear conscience, of gazes and banter with someone her own age, of running her hand through curls that weren’t slick with expensive gel? Who was she to foolishly wish for anything different, when so many people were counting on her?

She missed her home, her family, and it hadn’t been lost on her that Felix had never told her about his own background. Their wedding was attended mainly by those surrounding the Fickelgruber business, as well as another flood of press. She’d had to blink so much that day, unused to being in front of cameras after a youth spent on the stage, but her new husband had preened next to her as if this focus on appearance was where he felt most at home. She remembered the crowd’s polite cheers fading in her mind as he had slowly lifted her chin while she accepted a forkful of the most extraordinarily decadent chocolate cake.

For that day, she had allowed the feeling of his hand on her face to eclipse that of the too-rich frosting stuck in her throat.

Then he came through the door, humming a jaunty tune, and she blinked, torn out of the memory that she felt an entirely different kind of guilt for indulging in.

“Felix? Darling, where have you been?”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty auburn head, my songbird. The boy’s finished, absolutely finished. No one will be flying about the Galeries Gourmet if the police have anything to say about it.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“He’s disturbed the peace, made a commotion, even encouraged the-the-the unfortunate to disgrace our sacred sanctuary of chocolate. And the Chief is none too happy about it.”

“Is he?” she said suspiciously, stepping in front of him-because, up until this point, he hadn’t looked her in the eye.

Felix was silent for a moment, cacao eyes darting. His wife’s gaze was strong and unyielding-don’t lie to me again, I can’t take it-but her head tilted innocently to the side, a sort of plausible deniability.

A sort of protection.

“Yes,” he breathed with a curt nod, and took her hands in his. “I promise you, it was a solemn thing.”

“Then what were you singing as you came in?”

The chocolatier blinked again, falling into an absolutely done sort of expression, and Florence’s head tilted to the other side.

“You’ve had another musical number without me.”

“I’m terribly sorry, pet.”

“You know you can’t hide from me, Felix,” she said, something that would have been playfully teasing but held an edge of desperation that he refused to pick up on.

“It of course wasn’t the same without you,” he drawled in that ever-dramatic way, bringing her into their living room. “We’ll make it up now. Dance with me, Florence.”

He snapped his fingers, and some unseen yet attentive servant placed a needle on a record. A crooning melody started to crackle and bounce across the high golden ceilings, and Felix spun his wife into him, twirling her about with a smirk that she could only imagine to be the result of a monopoly saved.

She swayed to and fro in his arms, trying desperately to sink into the music, unable to focus on anything but the wrenching pull of her battling guilts.

Florence spent much of the next day in a state of ping-ponging worry. She’d looked intently out of the mansion’s sprawling windows over the town square, wondering whether her forbidden new friend had taken her advice.

“Just…don’t give up.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

And who knows what they’ll do to him now?

The hours had passed in a blur, and then she was laid limp, unable to sleep, and mentally exhausted, next to her husband and his piccolo snore.

She had screwed her eyes shut and burrowed into him, trying to force herself to feel as secure as she did two years ago; then, the slight sound of a little girl’s singing voice lifted itself into her consciousness, followed by the blare of a police car.

Puzzled, Florence carefully got out of bed and went to the window once more. The girl she’d heard was the one with the sweet smile that she’d seen in the Galeria yesterday, and Willy Wonka was next to her, warning her to run. The Chief of Police and Officer Affable faced them, but this wasn’t to last-the former seemed to tell the latter to leave, and the latter obeyed.

It wasn’t as if a switch flipped at that moment.

More like…

An extinguished candle was finally relit.

Before she could overthink herself into inaction, Wren was grabbing her robe and slippers and bolting downstairs, the snore that echoed after her serving as reassurance that she wouldn’t be found out. In her haste, she had the passing realization that this would be the first time she’d leave the house with her hair down and uncoiffed in over two years.

Through this rush, she heard the plunge of something in the town square’s fountain along with the shouts of the Chief, and she ran faster, throwing open the door just in time to see him about to club a drenched Willy over the head.

“OFFICER!”

Both men turned to her in an instant. She let out the breath she’d been holding since first hearing the girl’s voice, rolled her shoulders back, dropped into the character she’d played for the past two years, and stepped forward.

“What on earth is going on?”

They stared, each with a different kind of shock, as she walked toward the fountain. The Chief returned his nightstick to its holster.

“Mrs. Fickelgruber,” he stammered, “I thought you would have thought-well, I guess he didn’t tell-you aren’t-”

“No, I’m not thrilled about you clobbering this poor young man in the middle of the night,” she said, placing a hand on Willy’s shoulder. He looked at her, still touched with the fear of the past minutes but now grateful, and she tried not to be struck by the freckles she saw behind his water-plastered curls.

“Who said anything about clobbering?” the Chief laughed somewhat nervously. “We were just having a chat. An impactful, memorable chat. Right, Mr. Wonka?”

Willy dragged his eyes to him and held them there, a bit speechless.

What was probably three seconds but felt like an eternity of strange silence passed.

“Memorable indeed.”

“Right, then,” the Chief said. “You’ll do good to continue to remember it. Goodnight, Mrs. Fickelgruber.”

With that, he entered his car and drove away, his tail lights fading in the distance as the remaining pair stood, a little shell-shocked, her hand still on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said after a while, his gaze still trailing the receding police car.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, giving his shoulder an awkward pat, which made her realize just how cold he was due to the impromptu fountain bath. “Oh, God, you’re freezing. Let me…”

As he turned towards her, she looked up, trying to see through her window in the dark. She could barely make out the shape of a sound-asleep Felix, still in bed.

“Come to the office, I’ve got the key. There’s a fireplace there; you can stay as long as you need to to warm up.”

“Are you sure?”

His eyes moved up the same way, then back to her, and she shook her head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course.”

“Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea? Hot chocolate?”

She hadn’t turned on most of the lights so as not to draw attention, but she’d started a beautiful fire, which Willy sat by in a plush emerald-green chair. She’d rattled off the drinks on habit, but she turned to him upon saying the third, sharing his smile.

“The last one, please. But I’ll make it.”

“No, you need to rest-”

“I insist,” he said, moving to join her by the small bar in the office and searching through ingredients. “Unless that’s some sort of corporate sacrilege.”

“Making chocolate in enemy territory?”

He took a small jar of powder from his sleeve and shook it into two mugs, considering this, and his smile faltered a bit.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked. “That they’d…that they’d send the police after me? That business rivalry is thought of like a war?”

She pursed her lips and nodded solemnly.

“They…feel threatened,” she said slowly, “and, despite how professional they seem, they can’t be mature or rational about it. Apparently, you really do have the best chocolate in town.”

He neither confirmed nor denied, but gave half of a smile as he looked down at the drinks he was stirring.

“And I, for one, am quite looking forward to trying it.”

“Here, then,” he said, pulling something out of a coat pocket that had managed to escape the frozen flush. “Nothing too dangerous about this one. Just some good old Wonka magic.”

He opened his hand to her, revealing a small, wrapped treat, and she sighed.

“I’d love to, but I really shouldn’t. Not even the drinks.”

“Why not?” came the stunned reply, and she nearly laughed at just how sweetly scandalized the boy seemed to be at the idea of anyone denying themselves that pleasure.

“Milk has never really…agreed with me. Bad for the throat, and I’m a singer besides, as you know-I mean, I-well, it’s just…”

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER.

“I shouldn’t.”

He took a moment, and she watched his eyes widen as he processed the shocking injustice of being genetically predisposed against chocolate.

“Does your husband know about this?”

“He does, but he doesn’t care. Says I’ll ‘grow out of it with time’, which I haven’t.”

“So he’s…”

“Essentially poisoning me, yes.”

They laughed a little, because, surrounded by echoes of Fickelgruber’s power, it was the only thing they could do.

Willy stared at the table for a moment, then pulled another vial, this one containing a liquid, from yet another pocket.

“Lucky for you, then, I’ve got milk made from the product of the finest almond trees on the islands of Seychelles,” he said as he deftly poured the liquid into her glass. “Guaranteed to go down sweetly, both on the taste buds and after.”

“...Thank you,” she murmured, touched by the gesture.

With a final flick of the wrist, he deemed the hot chocolate finished, and they each carried their mug to the fire.

“Wren,” he said thoughtfully as they sat down.

“Hm?”

She was instinctively flooded with warmth in the same way she was yesterday, though whether it was due to the stunningly perfect cocoa or hearing her name in his voice she wasn’t sure.

“Is it a nickname? Songbird, right?”

She saw in the fireglow that his face darkened a bit upon the memory of how Felix had always referred to her in the press, taking that potentially sweet title and spinning it in an almost dehumanizing manner. So someone did notice.

“Well…sort of. That was what my parents intended. They say a wren sang when I was born, so they gave me that name, and I loved it. But Felix assumed it was a nickname and suggested I should expand it; to sound more sophisticated in my performances, he said, but I knew half the reason was to fit with the alliteration. He’s always valued aesthetics above anything else.”

They were silent for a while, and the massive painting seemed to stare down at them, making the Fickelgrubers look almost menacing in the fireglow.

“That’s you?”

A moment passed.

“No. No, that’s not really me.”

Her voice was quiet, but decisive. Willy looked at her, really looked at her, and she felt more seen than she had in years.

“I want to help you,” she said.

“Hm?”

His head tilted to the side, a little stunned, and she nearly giggled as his now-drying curls flopped in front of his face.

How could anyone want to hurt him?

“I don’t know exactly what Felix and the rest have planned against you, but I know there’s something. He never really tells me anything, but I’ll…I’ll try to find out what I can, to distract him when needed. I don’t want you to be alone in this.”

“I’m not,” he said. “The others where I’m staying right now, we’re all in a rather precarious situation together, and I’ve got a few ideas, but…”

She watched the wheels turn in his mind, and after a few moments, he looked back up at her, for once lost for words.

“But thank you. Again. I’d…I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. For bringing some much-needed heart into this place.”

“I think you’ve done that rather well yourself.”

This was news to her often-guilt-wracked brain.

“...Really?”

“Well, of course. You clearly care, Wren…you’re kind, you’re poetic and talented, and far smarter than it seems they give you credit for. It’s in your eyes, too, I think. You can always tell the truth by a person’s eyes.”

Her heart had nearly stopped.

Somehow, though, she could tell that he was unaware of the full effect he had on her.

“Mr. Wonka-ah, Willy, I mean…”

“Forgive me if-I didn’t intend to-”

The clocks around the city chimed the hour, interrupting the two just as they had the day before, and the young man’s expression went from its dazed dawning to a startled realization.

“They’ll need me. Back where I’m staying, I mean.”

“Of-of course,” she said a bit awkwardly as they both stood up.

His hair had dried by now, falling in perfectly imperfect swoops around his face. He’d undone his necktie to keep its cold away from his neck, and his jacket was folded over his arm, and he was looking at her as if he hadn’t had a conversation quite like that with someone in a very, very long time.

And neither had I.

Or…ever, I suppose.

Until now.

“Thank you. Again.”

“You’re welcome. Again.”

She took a breath, let it out, and folded him into a hug, which he returned in an instant.

After two years of jutting angles and sharply possessive grasps, it was remarkable to simply, softly, hold and be held.

They bid a last goodnight before parting ways, and as she took her time walking back to the mansion, the moon seemed brighter than ever before.

#wonka 2023 #wonka movie #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader #wonka #willy wonka #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mathew baynton x reader #mat baynton x reader #fiytwtb

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soullumii · 1 year

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carnival lights | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you take joel to the yearly summer carnival.

warnings/tags: pure fluff, little bit of sexual humor, fake gun use! (water guns), carnival fun, no outbreak!joel, soft!joel, modern au, food, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is in his 40s), pet names (peach, darlin', sweetheart, baby), established relationship. (can be read as part of the stranded universe!), NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 3.5k

a/n: something cute while i work on stranded part 2. there's no plot, just vibes

taglist: @hecatombix @thatmemechick @sexygaypalpatine

“I can’t believe you dragged me out to this mess,” Joel grumbles.

Warm summer air settles over the both of you as screams from excited kids and terrified people on rollercoasters echo around you in the night. Joel’s scowl is illuminated by flashing lights from various pop-up mirror mazes, haphazardly put together ferris wheels, and scandalously painted funhouses.

Seriously, though, why does the children’s funhouse have a mural of a Parisian can-can dancer plastered on the front of it, her fish-netted vagina visible from quite literally any angle within this carnival?

It’s so incredibly ridiculous, and you absolutely love it. You just love carnivals—always have.

Even if they’re probably a safety hazard, even if the creepy clowns wandering about scared you a lot as a kid, and even if the sweet aroma of funnel cakes and fried Oreos and cotton candy mixes with the skunky smell of cheap weed. It brings back memories. And yeah, it might give you a headache after a few minutes, but it’s everything you adore, even if you’re in your late twenties now.

“It’s fun, Joel. Have you ever heard of fun?” You tease, dragging him along the dirt path littered with cigarette butts and mystery liquids. You get a whiff of hot dog.

Joel must get it too, because his nose scrunches and he steps aside a dubious pile of something inscrutable. “My definition of fun ain’t exactly this.”

“Look! That looks fun!” You point excitedly toward a ride called “The Zipper” rising high in the sky, its metal capsules filled with adrenaline junkies swinging back and forth as the entire ride spins on an axis.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel swears under his breath.

“What? Don’t you want to ride it?”

When you glance over at him, he’s looking particularly green, though you can’t exactly tell if that’s from the spinning cups next to you flashing green and white or if he’s truly feeling unwell.

“Are you okay?” You ask, sincerity coating your words as you turn to him.

“I’m fine,” he shakes his head. “I just—you should’ve taken Ellie and Sarah with you. I’m not any fun at these kinds of things.”

“Joel…” you say, a teasing smile growing as your hand lands on his arm. “Are you scared?”

He scowls, but hesitates in his answer, gaze darting away from you. “No.”

Liar. “Joel, it's okay if you’re scared,” you say. “We don’t have to ride any rides. I wanted to come with you just to spend time with you.”

His gaze softens and he sighs. “I know, peach. I wanna spend time with you, too. And for the record, I’m not scared, I’m just concerned about… my back.”

“Riiight,” you smirk. “Let’s go find something to do that won’t hurt your back then.”

You find a funnel cake stand charging $15 per cake. Joel grumbles about how ridiculous, and frankly, illegal it is that they’re charging so much for what is basically a scribble of fried dough as he pulls out his wallet.

“It's about the culture of it all, Joel,” you declare as you take a bite of doughy and powdered sugar goodness. “It’s just what carnival goers do. It’s only once a year, they can make the sacrifice.” You tear off a piece of it and give it to him.

“I guess seein’ Sarah smile after eatin’ fried oreos was worth it," he relents as he takes the cake and plops it into his mouth, humming gratefully and yes! you’re starting to wear him down!

“Exactly.”

After you both finish your funnel cake among a screaming swath of kids, you drag him toward the farm animals. This, he has to like.

You enter into the tent, Joel’s hand tucked in yours, and the smell of manure and dirt immediately choke the both of you, the scent trapped in by the heat and the plastic material of the tarp. Joel somehow seems to look even worse than he did when you mentioned the Zipper.

“These poor animals,” he whispers, eyes wide as he takes in the fences sectioning off llamas and sheep and highland cattle. “They should be out wanderin’ in a field.”

“They do, Joel,” you insist, squeezing his hand. “It’s just for tonight. Come on, let’s go pet one.”

After a snot-nosed child stumbles away from the sheep pen, Joel makes his way over. He frowns down at them, reaching a hand in through the fence to pet them. The sheep inch forward, pressing their wet noses into his palm, and he strokes their soft wool lovingly. Your heart flutters at the sight.

And then you hear him whispering to them: “I’ll get you out of here.”

Before Joel can do something drastic, like wrench open the fence on pure strength alone (which you know he is absolutely capable of), you drag him out of the tent. Your spirits are extinguished, the night feeling more and more like a failure. You have to get him to have fun, somehow.

“Those poor animals,” he says again, shakes his head as you draw him toward the game booths.

“They’ll be okay, Joel,” you reassure gently, rubbing his shoulder blades.

He just shakes his head again, and your heart fractures. You plaster on a smile and set him in front of a booth with two plastic water guns tethered to a ledge, at the far end of the booth are targets bobbing up and down, moving along a track.

“Let’s play this!” You say, handing the teenage booth manager a dollar bill. He chews his gum apathetically, and pulls the lever to start up the game.

This piques Joel’s interest and he watches you grab the pistol-shaped water gun, aiming it at a target, your eye winking as you train your gaze on a target.

“No, no, I can’t let you shoot like that,” he says, grabbing the pistol. He maneuvers your hands, “Left squeezes on the right, darlin’.” He then adjusts your arms and tries to grab the pistol from you, but it's sturdy in your new grasp, not going anywhere.

“There,” he says, proud, and grabs the other gun, pointing it at the first target. “Good luck, peach. You're gonna need it.”

“We’ll see about that,” you tease. You have no idea what you’re getting into.

“Start,” the booth manager monotonously drawls.

Before you can even pull the trigger, three of Joel’s targets are down, and he is cackling as he obliterates the others on his side. Your jaw drops, eyes widening.

Because, what the hell?

You scramble to catch up, pressing the trigger rapidly at your own targets, but only a few hits land. By the time the bored teenager calls ‘game’, Joel’s got his arms over his chest, watching you with a satisfied smile as you try in vain to shoot the last three targets on your side.

You turn to him in shock, but your bones feel light, your pulse beating rapidly because at least he’s finally having fun. And, admittedly, his skill is attractive.

“You should see your face right now,” he laughs.

“You won this,” the teenager drones, holding out a big fluffy teddy bear, half the size of Joel.

“I’m keepin’ this,” Joel says, grabbing the bear and holding it close. He looks ridiculous, holding that giant teddy bear in his corded arms, peppered locks falling over his forehead. Ridiculously handsome. Ridiculously cute. You've got to keep this going.

“What? Seriously? You’re not going to give your girlfriend the bear you won?” You pout. He just smiles wider.

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta earn this. Your shootin’ was pathetic.” He grabs another dollar from his wallet and hands it to the red-headed teen. “Another one, kid.”

Instead of grabbing his own pistol when the game starts up again, Joel comes in close around your back, warm chest pressing against your shoulder blades as his hands skim down your arms. He lays a chaste kiss on the side of your throat and your heart beats rapidly like a bird’s, warmth settling within you, a flush dusting your cheeks at his proximity.

His broad palms land on yours, and he adjusts your hold again like he did last time. “This was good. Your aim, on the other hand…”

“I’ve never shot a fucking gun before, Joel,” you defend.

“This is a water gun, peach.” You grumble as he drags your arms up, sets them in a position that is honestly not very comfortable, but you can see how it might be easier for aiming.

“Aim that ‘lil notch at the top of the gun in the middle of your target.” You follow his instruction dutifully. “Good, now shoot.”

It’s all in good fun, the gun light and cheap in your hand, but you treat it as if you truly are about to shoot a real gun, if only because your competitive nature likes to take over. You take a deep breath and let it out, then pull the trigger. The target goes down swiftly.

Joel pulls back, grinning down at you. “Nice job, peach.”

You preen at his praise.

“Alright, now hit the next one.”

You do just that. He holds his hand up for a high five and you slam your palm onto his, laughing giddily. "I'm so fucking good at this!"

He hisses, shaking his stinging hand out, “Why do you always high five so hard?”

“The game’s almost done,” the teenager warns.

You turn and deflate at the sight of ten targets still standing, confidence leaving your body in one fell swoop. You have about twenty seconds to shoot the last targets, and you wilt, knowing that’s absolutely not going to happen. You gaze sadly at the stuffed whale hanging from the awning.

Joel, noticing your disappointment, grabs his own pistol and fires off at his targets, each painted bullseye flinging back as the water hits it, the targets dropping one by one in quick succession. Even the moving ones he finds easily, spraying them with firm focus, eyebrows furrowed over his hard eyes.

He finishes with five seconds to spare, and a smirk on his lips. He makes a show to pretend to blow smoke away from the water gun’s barrel, and you can't help but laugh. You never see him this goofy, and it makes your body tingle with happiness.

The booth manager rolls his eyes and gets the whale down, handing it to Joel. You give him the biggest puppy eyes you can manage, lips puckered in a pout, and you can see the moment it hits him right in the heart, his smile growing soft, the way he looks away from you, turning to try and hide it. But he can’t, and you tremble at the sight feeling so full, so warm.

“Come on, Joel. I’m never going to be as good as you–which by the way, where the fuck did you learn to do that?” You say, grabbing the tail of the whale and tugging.

"Growin' up on a farm, darlin'. Tommy was always wantin' to shoot the ducks."

"Ah, so you're a master at duck hunting, huh?"

He shrugs. "You could say that."

He tugs the whale away from your grasp, gesturing to the booth. "Alright, one more game. Come on baby, you can do it."

You groan, and he hands another dollar over. The kid looks even more bored. Maybe even annoyed at this point. You don't blame him. You grab the pistol, and get to shooting, not without spraying some water at Joel first. He doesn’t even flinch.

Five targets later (you never could get the full ten), you're whooping and hollering as the kid hands you a fluffy monkey plushie.

"There we go!" Joel praises. “Nice goin’ peach!”

You do a little happy dance, not caring if you look ridiculous, and Joel tucks you into his side, throwing another dollar bill at the apathetic teen.

“For your patience,” he says. You giggle loudly into your palm.

“I don’t get paid enough to be here,” the kid mumbles as Joel tugs you away and back through the carnival.

You look up at him, taking in his carefree expression, the content smile on his face, and the way the lights flash off his eyes, making them sparkle. His strong arm is wrapped around your waist, your cheek pressed into his shoulder.

“Finally having fun?”

He looks down at you, eyebrow quirking. “What’d’ya mean? I’ve been havin’ fun this whole time.”

You stop, pulling back to really look at him, blinking in disbelief. “What? But you’ve seemed so… upset. The rollercoasters, the funnel cake...the animals."

Joel’s smile slips, and a clear sincerity takes hold in his eyes. “Darlin’ none of that matters to me. Just bein’ with you is enough to make anythin’ fun.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, nerves thrumming, mind racing.

“I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise, I'm not very good with emotions," he says, threading his fingers with yours, and your heart stutters. You knew that. He’s always been a closed book, and even if he does decide to be more open, it can be hard to truly decipher how he feels. Though he’s always quick to assure you that you mean everything to him.

“I’ll ride a damn rollercoaster with you anytime if you really want me to.”

This is why you love him so damn much.

You beam, though it turns teasing, “Thanks, Joel, but I don’t want to hurt you.” You poke his lower back.

Joel chuckles. “My back is fine. I’m just scared.”

“Oh really? Finally admitting it, Miller?“

"You know I struggle with admitting my flaws, darlin'."

"Right, because you hardly have any."

"Exactly."

"Well, anyway, I have an idea."

"Do ya now?”

You drag him toward the giant ferris wheel stretching high into the sky, the neon lights climbing its spokes flashing excitedly, drawing the carnival goers in.

You settle in a seat with Joel next to you, though because of the long line, you're forced to be seated with another couple across the way. An older couple, with matching t-shirts and candy necklaces.

"Hey there!" The woman chirps. "What a lovely night, ain't it?"

Joel nods awkwardly, "Sure is."

"It's beautiful," you add.

It truly is, a gentle breeze stirs the warm air, driving away mosquitos and the Texan humidity. The navy sky is clear, only a few fluffy clouds sprinkled about. You’d spend the entire night out here if you could.

"I'm Sharon, my husband Burt and I have been comin' to this carnival for the past fifty years," she says, gesturing to the man in overalls beside her.

"That's amazing," you say honestly. "I’d like to have a tradition like that, too.”

You tell her your and Joel’s names, ignoring the latter’s pleading glance at you by smiling at Sharon and Burt and complimenting their matching shirts.

Burt's says: Nothing Sense We're and hers says: Makes When Apart.

You despise the shirts deeply, but you might as well be friendly to the people you'll be stuck with for the next fifteen minutes.

"Thanks darlin'! Are you two a couple?"

You take Joel's hand, "Yep! Finally reeled this slippery fish in."

"Jesus Christ," Joel grumbles under his breath. You try not to laugh.

"Older men, so evasive, am I right?" Sharon whispers, a hand coming up to shield her mouth from her husband, as if he can't hear her in this tiny space.

"I hear you, sister.”

Joel rubs his thumb and forefinger against his temple.

"Well, enjoy your ride," she beams. "Just beware, my hubby gets gassy when we get halfway up."

You choke on a shocked laugh, your palm slapping over your lips. You lean into Joel, eyes wide, who looks green once again.

"Oh my god," you hiss to him.

"Now look what you've done. We're 'bout to get chloroformed by farts."

You can’t hide your laugh this time, “Joel!"

The ferris wheel jerks, and Joel's hand tightens around yours as it begins to ascend. You notice the tick in his jaw, the way his gaze pointedly darts from the spokes of the wheel to the pole in the center of the seat and back.

"Are you scared of ferris wheels too?" You ask.

"No," he hisses. "I'm scared of state carnival ferris wheels. They set this piece of shit up in three days. How can you even trust it?"

"I just like to think about possible ways I'd survive it."

"Yeah, like what? Grabbing onto the pole and just hanging there 'til they get ya?"

"Exactly, see, it'll be fine."

"That's if the whole thing doesn't detach."

"I think it's more likely we'll die from suffocating by old man farts than this thing detaching."

That gets a laugh out of Joel, and his gaze finally finds the land stretching out beneath you as the ferris wheel rises. The moon hangs high above the clouds, bright and full, and stars dot the dark sky like jewels sewn on a blanket. The breeze ruffles his hair, and you wish to run your hands through it.

"This is nice," he says. "I'm glad I came out here with you."

"You didn't have much of a choice, but I'm glad you're enjoying it."

You hear the man across from you pass gas, and you hide a grimace.

Joel leans in to whisper in your ear, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin making you shiver. "This would be pretty romantic if it weren't for Mr. and Mrs. Clause over there."

"Watch it, you'll be approaching that age soon."

"I've got at least twenty years, peach. Maybe you'll be sick of me by then."

"Oh no," you shake your head, looking earnestly into his eyes. "I'll gratefully smell your farts 'til the end, Joel."

"You're messed up," he grimaces.

You just smile at him, and he grins back, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his thumb massaging your neck, and you melt into him, content to watch the world shrink as you near the top.

Eventually the ferris wheel comes to a stop at the top, and you gaze out across the dark world, head resting on Joel's shoulder. He pulls you in close.

"It's time for the kiss!" Sharon exclaims, grabbing Burt's fraying overalls and tugging him in to plant a kiss right on his lips. He melts right into her, and in mere seconds, you and Joel are witness to a geriatric couple making out.

"Ain't this somethin'," Joel says.

"Oh. My. God."

Sharon pulls back after a good thirty seconds, and turns to you and Joel. "Alright! Your turn!"

"Oh no, that's okay," you say, waving your hand. Joel is private in his affections, though his little show at the target booth earlier might say otherwise. Generally, he prefers keeping you to himself.

But tonight, he's full of surprises.

"C'mon, peach. Let's do it. Let’s give these kind folks a show, like they did for us."

"Yes! He gets it!" Sharon bounces excitedly. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

You've been wanting to kiss him all night, so you're really not against it. Though, it's still weird, and you give Joel a pained look.

"I'll give you the whale for this," he promises.

"And the bear," you argue.

"Fine. And the bear."

You grin, and then his hand is at the back of your neck, pulling you in, his nose brushing your cheek as he slots your lips together. He tastes like funnel cake and cotton candy and you honestly don't want this night to end.

Your eyes flutter shut as he adjusts you to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. Your hands plant on his chest, nails digging into the fabric stretching over his firm pecs.

"Woo! Yeah! Kiss her hard! Kiss her really good.”

Your lip is still caught between his teeth when Joel slowly pulls away, eyes trained angrily on Sharon and Burt. He clears his throat as leans back in his seat, and you avoid eye contact with the very strange couple across from you. Joel's hand is hot on your exposed thigh, and now you really wish you weren't fifty feet in the air stuck with some very questionable folks.

Finally, five minutes later you touch the ground again.

"Y'all have fun now!" Sharon squeaks and steers Burt toward the cowboy-themed carousel.

"Have a good night you two," Joel says, faintly as they beeline away from you, almost like you were the weird ones.

He hands you the whale but holds the bear for you as you make your way back to Joel's pickup.

"Well, that was something," you say.

"I don't think I'll get that image out of my head. Or the smell," Joel's nose scrunches.

You stop, turning toward him. "I'm sorry about this. I thought it would be fun. We'd play games and share a romantic kiss on the ferris wheel and feed the animals-"

The words fade as Joel's palm settles on your cheek, his thumb running across your bottom lip, his other hand landing on your waist. "Darlin', we did all of that."

"Yeah, but it all sucked. I can't shoot for shit. And you don't like the animals being all cooped up, and then Sharon and Burt practically eating each other in front of us, then getting turned on by our kissing? You don't think I saw Burt's hard-on?"

His eyes widen in disgusted shock. "His what?"

Your eyes well up. "I’m sorry, Joel."

He shakes his head, pulling you into his chest. "Peach, I had a great time. I love doing whatever you love. I love you, okay? So next year, you can drag me out here again and we can be Sharon and Burt's spank bank material and I'll enjoy it just as much as I did today."

Your laugh is watery against his chest, and he tilts your chin up to softly press his lips against yours again, this time shielded from the hungry gaze of strange old people. He thumbs away your tears.

"By the way," he whispers against your lips. "I liked watchin' you fail at shootin'. It's cute."

You glare half-heartedly at him, pushing him off of you and rounding to the passenger side of the truck. "I always knew you were into humiliation."

"Maybe we should try it, just to know for sure," he smirks, leaning against the door frame, towering over you.

You look him up and down, eyeing the muscles of his forearms and the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest. Your voice comes out lower than you expect it to.

“Get in the damn truck, Miller."

"Yes ma'am."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #tlou fic #game joel miller #pedro pascal #soft joel miller

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