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aemondsbabe · 7 months

Text

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.”

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page.

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces.

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more.

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another.

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering.

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board.

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips.

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging.

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned.

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again.

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead.

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat.

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks.

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them.

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?”

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade.

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner.

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.”

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men.

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers.

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses.

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.”

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter.

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware.

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.”

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him.

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering.

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck.

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain.

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves.

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck.

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder.

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt.

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.”

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister.

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase.

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail.

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place.

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush.

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice.

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window.

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.”

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute.

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?”

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act.

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?”

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth.

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem.

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook.

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?”

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?”

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low.

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket.

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.”

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request.

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you.

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.”

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?”

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

“Do you?”

“Fine, yes.”

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables.

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes.

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone.

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together.

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles.

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?”

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing.

“You.” It comes out as a breath.

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark.

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.”

“None?”

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.”

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair.

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his.

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.”

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger.

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands.

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling.

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine.

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.”

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading.

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump.

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly.

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk.

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.”

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric.

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip.

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath.

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat.

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you.

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand.

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need.

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit.

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?”

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl.

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table.

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally.

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses.

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric,

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child.

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you.

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud.

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers.

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment.

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?”

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance.

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length.

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.”

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down.

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.”

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock.

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?”

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock.

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately.

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release.

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair.

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin.

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things.

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.”

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down.

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat.

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air.

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

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justporo · 4 months

Text

Bedroom Hymns

A still empty new home somwhere in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate. Nothing but a big mattress on the floor of your bedroom where Astarion and you have spent some days already, mostly naked, just indulging in whatever you want - and each other of course, whenever the flames started blazing. This time a spark is ignited when Astarion sees how his old shirt looks on you, how well it suits you. (NSFW)

PART 2 | MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This is... just dirty smut. I have been thinking about writing this for literal months. But I'm happy I did because when Tav describes how she's become more confident? That's me just describing how I feel about writing smut. And yes, there will be a second part - with even more. Happy 2k followers, my dear horny gremlins!

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), premature orgasm, light dom/sub dynamic (if you squint but really they're both just taking the piss out of each other) Wordcount: 4,5k ~~~

A lot of things in your life had gone wrong - more than you could possibly ever count. Sometimes you had even wondered how you had even survived this far. In the last couple of months you had asked yourself that question quite a lot actually.

But then some things had gone very right. Often without you even knowing what was in store for you beforehand.

As you laid on your side on a single thick plush mattress in a massive room with deep red silk tapestries on the wall and polished wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with a shimmering and glittering chandelier in your newly acquired home in Baldur’s Gate, you realised that this was one of those things that had gone terribly right.

But all this wasn't even the best. The best thing that had - quite frankly - ever happened to you was lying right next to you: almost completely naked, only partly covered by some blankets and sheets, just as you were, and at the moment lecturing you on the importance of a coherent design concerning furniture, decor and colours. Long, elegant fingers waved around, gesticulating while full, soft lips kept moving, often smiling - occasionally allowing sharp fangs to be seen beneath - and red eyes began to glow whenever their gaze fell on you.

A small lantern was bathing the large and tall room in some cosy orange light - barely reaching the far corners of the room. It was almost reminiscent of all the nights you had spent in camp with nothing but the moon, stars and a crackling campfire for light. The mattress though was easily an impressive upgrade from your tattered bedrolls despite it being the only piece of furnishing the two of you currently owned.

You had stopped paying attention a fair while ago while Astarion kept waving his arms around, looking from you - softly nodding in agreement without hearing the words - to the ceiling and around the empty room. His curls were delightfully messed up and unorderly, making him look even more handsome for how at ease he was. And the easy smile that didn't seem to leave his lips these days, took quite a lot of those torturous years right off his face.

Your heart fluttered every time he looked over at you, with his bright red eyes sparkling at you and his smile involuntarily growing even broader.

And you saw the rest too: how he elegantly gesticulated with those skilled hands, how the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he couldn't be bothered to keep still for just a second, the room never silent as long as he was there. You had fallen into easy, natural companionship with each other - as if you’d known each other for centuries already.

What choices you had made to end up right here, right now, you didn’t know. But you surely wouldn’t have changed a thing if this was to be the glorious result.

“Wouldn't you agree, my heart?” Astarion asked you, halting his ongoing infodump. He was looking at you. And by the way one of his eyebrows was raised critically he must have noticed your lapse in attention.

But in your defence, the way his lower abdomen disappeared in the sheets he had carelessly wrapped around his hips - at a very low point - would have distracted just about anyone. The way the lines of his muscles defined his lower body. Especially those two converging lines, starting at his slender hips, then going lower, leading to his…

Astarion cleared his throat. You'd been distracted yet again.

“Darling, you have all the time in the world for staring, you don't need to get it done all at once.”

“I like being a step or two ahead though, love.”

The vampire scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. You saw how it made his muscles contract just a tad and you bit your lip unconsciously.

“I know, darling, you're so diligent. But my eyes are up here, my sweet,” he answered. You heard the vicious teasing in his tone.

You ripped your gaze from his delectable torso and let it wander to his equally delectable face. He was grinning wolfishly at you, one eyebrow twitching up playfully. And now you couldn't help but blush a little. He often had that effect on you.

Astarion simply liked being looked at, and you - well - liked looking at him. But in his defence, he was also very good at reversing the roles, making you flustered whenever he couldn’t tear his eyes from you in return as if undressing you and having you right then and there in his mind even when you were in public. With the way he stared at you now, eyes slowly becoming half-lidded, you also had a fair idea where his mind was going right now.

Your vampire slowly turned to lay on his side, propping up his head on his arm, mirroring your pose exactly. A few of his curls were falling into his face when he slowly leaned forward, his smile already telling you what he was about. Some rustling you heard made you aware that the sheets around his hips were moving when he did. Your eyes flicked downward.

A small involuntary gasp left your lips when you noticed that the fabric had slipped even lower, the man now even more precariously covered than before. Your thoughts immediately took a tumble and stopped being coherent.

Astarion clicked his tongue, his free hand grabbed your chin firmly and made you look at him once more: “Love, we really need to talk about the fact how you lose the ability to focus so quickly.” The wolfish grin was back and he even leaned in a little bit closer still, causing the sheets to slide down just a bit more. A desperate noise caught deep in your throat.

You coughed.

“In my defence, Astarion, you’re almost completely naked”, you whispered as his smirking lips hovered over yours.

“So are you, darling, but you don’t see me losing focus, do you?” Astarion replied, his voice dropping low until it was merely more than a rumble. His crimson eyes took their time as they wandered over every single one of your elegant curves. His tongue darted out to wet his lips unconsciously while with his eyes he devoured your naked body outlining against the dark of the room with the help of warm lantern light sharply illuminating the details of your form.

You swallowed and felt some pressure forming between your legs. The kind you had felt relentlessly almost all the time since you had fallen onto this single piece of furnishing you had bought so far for your new home.

By now it must have been a couple of days of the two of you just hanging out barely clothed in your new almost empty bedroom - just the huge mattress on the floor. And once you had fallen onto it, you hadn’t seen any sense in getting up again. Everything you needed was right there with you.

You had talked even more in the last couple of days than you had ever before. You had taken each other whenever lust had overcome you. And you had just allowed the exhaustion of months and months of fights, adventures and not knowing if you would live to see another sunrise to slowly leave both your bodies. Just sinking into the soft bedding, knowing you could let yourself fall fully with each other around, relaxing and recovering.

Well, you almost didn’t leave the makeshift bed. Only when some carnal urges, that Astarion very unfortunately couldn’t fulfil all by himself, were reminding you that you were still just a mortal did you get up and snuck out of the room. Always coming back to Astarion dramatically claiming he'd barely survived without your attention when you fell back into his arms on return.

Unfortunately you felt some of those urges creeping up on you this very moment, as Astarion was leaning in, about to initiate what surely would become another mind bending tumble in the sheets. But this would have to wait - at least for a few moments now.

And also he could get his ego knocked down a bit for being all too cocky just a few moments ago.

When the vampire was about to close his eyes to kiss you, you rolled back. And with that movement grabbed the blanket that was covering you and threw it at Astarion’s expectant face. As you heard him hiss you slid off the mattress with a cackle and grabbed the first piece of clothing you saw before you quickly, with bare feet, ran to slip out of the bedroom. The vampire ripped the blanket off his face, got to his knees and tried to grab you before you could leave his den but you were just as quick as him.

You heard Astarion curse under his breath but you were already closing the door behind you. The last thing the vampire saw of you, was how you had pulled on his old shirt and how it didn’t fully cover your butt as you slipped out the door, leaving barely anything to his vivid imagination.

Astarion cursed you under his breath and remained kneeling there, a martyr forced to give up his everything (temporarily). At least the view could have been worse. Thinking about how you had looked in his shirt immediately sent a jolt between his legs, making his length throb with need for you as he sat there and mourned the temporary loss of his lover. Only his imaginative mind kept him company until you came back.

When you returned shortly after you had brought a bottle of wine and two chalices (only bought yesterday on a whim) to make up for your rash departure. You slowly opened the door with your bare foot since both your hands were full and found Astarion exactly as you left him.

He was kneeling on the mattress still, the sheets draped over his thighs almost artfully, only barely covering him now. His hands were placed palm up on his wide spread legs, almost as if he was in prayer. And fitting with this was his bowed head, eyes closed, his ruffled curls covering part of his beautiful face.

Ethereal was the only word you could think of at that moment. Astarion looked like the statue of a forgotten god with how he knelt there: every single detail crafted to perfection. The light of the lantern illuminated every line of his naked body, giving the illusion of being carved out of immaculate marble capturing every single one of his sharp lines that worked so well in contrast to your softer ones.

And for some reason it seemed this unreal looking being had chosen to come down from his place among all other divine powers to bow down at your feet. And more even: he had devoted himself to you, body and soul, for the rest of his immortal days to lavishly praise you with all he had to offer.

You gasped as you took him in. Almost not being able to believe how you had gotten so lucky.

The vampire’s head snapped up when he heard the soft, low sound. The illusion of a statue, forever held captive in stone in perfect but lifeless detail, was broken. But the actual thing was so much better anyways. Astarion’s crimson eyes glinted at you in the low light, his body flexed, stone becoming liquid, while you slowly closed the door behind you again.

The vampire eyed you, drinking in the view of you wearing his shirt now being allowed more than just a glimpse: the sleeves sliding down your arms and bunching up around the elbows, the way the fabric spanned over your hips and thighs.

But mostly the vampire was mesmerised by how your breasts outlined against this old shirt of his: part of them obscured by the ruffles, but especially their peaks - hardened by the cold air - were clearly visible to him and made Astarion lose his focus for once. Seeing you this way immediately made lust rise up within him way more than any fantasy could, causing his length between his legs to twitch and slowly harden.

Feeling the tension in the room shift remarkably, you slowly stepped closer to your makeshift bed again. You saw desire light up the vampire’s eyes as he kept gazing upon you. His lips had parted and his expression spoke of nothing but hunger for you as he couldn’t get enough of the view of you wearing his clothes.

Maybe he wasn’t so much a heavenly being that had descended to you but something out of the most fiercely burning part of the hells, ready to drag you down with him and never let you leave again. You swallowed and felt how the vampire’s heated gaze alone made you feel a little hazy.

Had you known it was this easy to turn the table on Astarion in his own little game, you would have done this much earlier. And oh, what irony that while you could barely form a coherent thought once the vampire was naked before you, for him it was you putting on his old, almost threadbare camp shirt that seemingly made the pale elf forget everything else but how good it looked on you. And what it meant to him: that you were his.

The intensity on his face as he kept staring at you without moving was almost predator like and made you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to control the beginning pulses between your legs. But the damage was already done. And as if emboldened by the vampire’s attention you felt your hardening nipples rub against the fabric of Astarion’s shirt, pronouncing them even more and making you overly aware of them.

“Come here, darling,” the pale elf asked of you, lazily stretching out an arm towards you. All you could do in response was helplessly wave the bottle of wine and the chalices around, because some pragmatic part in your brain was still working and telling you that your hands were still full.

Astarion frowned slightly at you, annoyed by the delay in you obeying his demand.

“Put it down and then come here,” he ordered in a brisker tone now, you saw his gaze darkening as he almost growled at you.

And of course you followed his demand. There was nothing more you wanted actually as you looked down upon your nearly naked lover before you - demanding you join him again in your bed.

Hastily, you placed down the bottle and the cups and then moved over to Astarion. He was stretching out his arms to you, motioning to you to come sit on his lap.

You didn’t hesitate, but you didn’t rush either now. You placed one on one of his thighs, causing the fabric of his shirt to ride up your thigh so much that you were sure that he must be able to see your swelling core from his position. Immediately one of his hands slid up your pointed foot and over your shin, around to your calf, squeezing the muscle lightly, before it went on to the sensitive underside of your bare thigh.

And of course his eyes were immediately drawn to you bared before him, almost hypnotised and making a grunt catch in his throat at the sight of what you had to offer him. His crimson gaze found yours, his brows drawn together. You stayed like this in a moment of perfect stillness as you kept looking at each other, knowing that you’d be doomed to be each other’s continuous downfall. Then Astarion bit his lips, one canine catching on his bottom lip, his gaze falling back to what lay beneath your legs.

This alone was getting you so worked up that you let your head roll back and allowed a small but desperate moan to leave your lips. Astarion laughed softly at that, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. You moaned again and enjoyed the content humming you earned in response to your openly shown pleasure.

Months ago you would have been way too hesitant to act like this - not directly ashamed but surely too shy to really express yourself, to fully indulge. But Astarion had surely made your confidence rise to unknown heights with the way he always praised you, how he hungered for you and always made it known how much he desired you. And with teaching and showing you what pleasures he could let you have if only you trusted him. And you had done that from the beginning, your belief in him stronger than better judgement.

So there you were, spreading yourself to your lover, while you could observe his cock beginning to twitch below the thin sheets. This with how the corners of his mouth curled up into an almost feral grin was more than enough proof that you’d been doing it right, that he’d taught you well.

It made you feel powerful, knowing how you could make him lust for you. And it heightened your own pleasure knowing how easily you could turn him on.

“Darling,” Astarion mumbled, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip as you saw him basically salivating at the sight of you becoming a drenched mess for him, “would you mind coming just a little bit closer?” His gaze flicked from your core to you and then back down. He was eager and insatiable.

“Say please?”

His gaze snapped to yours, eyes narrowed while you grinned, both of you remembering a specific moment months ago when you had teased him just like that. And just like back then he would make you regret it later.

He rolled his head around, loosened his shoulders with an annoyed, dramatic sight.

“Please”, he basically purred when his head came back around.

Oh sure, if he was nice like that, you would come closer. You gave him a pleased smile and withdrew your leg from his, making Astarion’s unwilling hand drop to his thigh while he criticised the loss with a disgruntled groan. But you moved quickly to make up for it.

You stepped on the mattress, already incredibly close to him and enjoyed how attentively he stared up at you, patiently awaiting you now. It was almost fooling you how obediently he had been so far, how he waited for you. But seeing the mischievous sparkle in his ruby eyes and his signature smirk play on his lips told you that he was only playing coy until he had you where he wanted you.

Still you drew out the moment, enjoying your moment of having the upper hand. You let one hand enter his already dishevelled hair and began caressing his scalp with slow circles of your fingertips.

“You’re such a good, patient boy today, Astarion,” you teased him sweetly as you watched his eyes roll back from your soft, sensual caress. One eyebrow twitched at your praise. You knew he liked being praised. But then his gaze snapped back and his hands shot around your legs and pulled you in close against him by grabbing your butt.

You yelped and almost lost balance. Your hands searched for hold on his naked shoulders and the vampire had you firmly in his grasp. His splayed fingers squeezing your buttcheeks, half-covered by the shirt. He pressed his face between your legs. His long, straight nose almost already reached the swelling, sensitive bud there.

A helpless whimper escaped you and Astarion lifted his face again.

“Not so feisty now, are we? Don’t make me become impatient with you, sweetheart,” he told you in a mocking tone, pursing his lips, enjoying the view of you above him and emphasising his point with a firm slap on your butt. You merely gasped in response. Your mind was still trying to catch up.

“Now, move!”, he commanded with another low growl and wasted no time by moving one of your thighs to lift up your leg and placing it on his shoulder. You were balancing on one leg now. But your vampire was holding you securely, both hands on your ass again and pulling you as close as possible.

The fabric had already bunched up over your spread thigh now but you saw the unspoken command in Astarion’s narrowed eyes as he positioned you on himself and you lifted the shirt higher with one hand while letting the other enter his hair again.

And then Astarion wasted no more precious time and pressed his face between your legs again - now with no more fabric getting in his way. The tip of his tongue immediately and effortlessly found your pulsating clit and began working on it while his hands squeezed your butt deliciously.

Without hesitation he pressed his open mouth to your heated core, sucking on it and his tongue circling over and around the sensitive peak there, sending a million little lightning jolts through your body that quickly became stronger, conjuring a thunderstorm.

You moaned loudly now, not being able to control any of it anymore. Your hand formed a fist in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, which he answered with a pleased growl and pressing his tongue even harder against your clit.

He drove you up that mountain so quickly and violently you began seeing stars already while he kept pleasuring you with his eager mouth. The way he sucked on you, let his tongue slide between your folds and inside of you, having you almost fully climb onto his face, and the way you felt even his fangs graze you ever so lightly at your most sensitive part made you quickly lose all control.

Somewhere in the back of your mind clouded with boundless lust you were thankful that he held you so firmly it hurt, because your legs were both shaking uncontrollably the longer and fiercer he kept going. With glazed over eyes you allowed yourself to look down and enjoy the view of your lover devouring you as if he had been only put on this plane of existence to please you in this way. It amplified the pressure you felt building up in your lower body tenfold.

You neared the edge at breakneck speed. And your body was desperate for release, knowing the orgasm would be vicious. But there was something else you wanted. Instinctively you knew that he himself must be aching. You didn’t need to see his massive erection straining the sheets around his hips and the telltale wet spot at its peak to know that it was there - and to know that you wanted to feel him inside of you.

“Astarion,” you groaned breathlessly and used the rest of your control to pull on his hair. But you achieved nothing, merely making him almost purr from the exquisite pain you inflicted by pulling on his hair. He slapped your ass again. So hard you knew it would leave his handprint on your delicate skin this time. That and the sting from it made you bite your lip to barely stifle another desperate moan.

And then the last of your ability to form a simple coherent thought crumbled, the sheer, primal lust inside you taking over when Astarion changed the pace to some slow, hard movements with the tip of his tongue directly over your swollen clit. You gave in to it.

It was inevitable anyway. Only a few more flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue and you were falling, your cunt throbbing violently despite nothing to clench around.

Your hand was tugging hard on Astarion’s hair again, making him growl. Your face was contorted in overpowering pleasure as the stars you had seen before blew up to a whole firmament and made you lose your vision for a moment from how bright everything had become. Breathless, almost soundless noises left your wide open mouth as you scattered into a million pieces. And only Astarion’s firm arms around you made sure they would all stick together again once you would come down from your own galaxy again.

The vampire kept going for a few more swipes, pushing you just a tad further before it became fully unbearable and then withdrew to enjoy the fruits of his labour, your wetness coating his lips and chin. He absent-mindedly lapped it up as well as possible while he kept watching you writhe from the ecstasy he had provided you with.

When you had come back down enough from the high again to feel your own body, you slowly let your head fall forward again. Your legs felt weak and wobbly just as the rest of your body. You looked at your eager lover, who was licking up some of you from his lips still. Astarion looked mightily pleased with himself.

“That’s what you get for making me impatient, love,” he simply said and grinned haughtily, cocking his head as if he hadn’t just given you one of the most violent orgasms you had ever experienced - and hadn’t even allowed you to lay down for it.

He softly eased your leg off his shoulder but held you securely still to make sure you didn’t topple over. You softly tugged on his curls now and kept looking at him while still trying to catch your breath. The vampire placed soft kisses down the front of your shivering thighs after you had let the shirt drop again, his hands were carefully massaging your behind and the back of your thighs.

“Shame though,” you let out between gasps of air, “I would have loved to feel you inside of me.” You said it while you eyed his erect dick between his spread legs. The sight alone enough to get some pressure back up in your lower abdomen - despite your core still lazily throbbing from your last orgasm.

That made Astarion’s head snap back up again, his eyes sparkling at you as if asking how you still dared to talk back to him after what he had just made you experience. Then he closed his eyes and softly shook his head while his smirk turned wicked.

“Oh sweet darling,” he began and opened his eyes slowly to look at you from under his brows. His eyes were dark and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick over his lips focus wholly on you. The smirk grew even broader until you saw his fangs glint in the low lantern light.

His gaze was piercing, and his hands were once more squeezing your butt until it hurt pleasantly, plugging a whimper from you. You asked yourself if it had been clever to provoke a vampire who must be burning up with pleasure by now and aching for his own release judging by how you saw his erection twitch forcefully between his legs even with the fabric of the sheet covering it.

“What made you think I was even close to being done with you, my heart?”

PART 2

Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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wheeboo · 1 month

Text

big spoon, little spoon | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which ask your boyfriend if he wants to be big spoon or little spoon. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing (in the dark lmao), one curse word, terms of endearment, just boo being rlly affectionate :< WORD COUNT. 1.2k

requested from anon: congrats on 2k lovely!!! ❤️❤️❤️ for ur event may i please req seungkwan + #6 list one? thank u ahhhhh and congrats again - #6: "I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms."

notes: thank u my love !! i hope u enjoy <3 i had too much fun writing this pls 😭😭

join the 2k celebration!

"Okay, so big spoon or little spoon tonight?"

Seungkwan just freezes from where he stood in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still dangling at his lips with bits of foam at the corners of his mouth. You're literally staring at him like you're waiting for him to answer and that it wasn't actually a rhetorical question.

"Are you asking me𑁋okay, wait." He marches back into the bathroom to hastily spit and rinse out his mouth, before coming back out with determination in his step. "Are you asking me if I want to be big spoon or little spoon?"

There's a playful lift to your lips as you sit down on the edge of his bed, and Seungkwan can very much see that slight mischievous look to your features. He can already feel the heat of the moment shoot up towards his ears, and he prays that the room is dark enough to hide it.

"Yeah, I am. Since, you know, we always sorta switch around every day," You say, nodding with a teasing grin. "And, well... I'm being considerate, as your partner and all. I gotta know all your preferences..."

God, Seungkwan feels like he's sinking into quicksand at his feet. Are you really at his place every day? He hardly ever thought about how often you were here, like how these nightly rituals had practically become routine now. He swears his heart does a little happy flip-flop at the thought.

It all started with movie night dates that bled into you two eating breakfast together, dinner dates that turned into you helping wash dishes at three in the morning, and then that particular comfortable silence that settled completely at this point. Every day, there always seems to be another reason for you to stay a little longer, another excuse to linger until the streetlights cast an orange glow through his curtains.

And Seungkwan knows he won't ever get tired of it𑁋he won't ever get tired of having you around. Not now. Not anytime soon. Not ever.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling whatever embarrassment he had in his chest start to dissipate and replaced by a rush of warmth.

"Okay, well, as your very considerate and caring boyfriend..." He crosses his arms together. "what do you prefer?"

You purse your lips together, as if deep in thought. You didn't mind being either little or big spoon, but the thought of Seungkwan having his arms around you right now𑁋if you could describe it𑁋felt like being wrapped by a warm cloud, a feeling of pure, weightless security that chases away all possible worries.

But it isn't just about the comfort, although it's certainly a big part of it. It was the feeling of being safe and cherished, completely enveloped in his embrace. It was the feeling of home.

A slow smile graces across your face.

"I'll take little spoon," You answer gleefully, already crawling more onto his bed and tucking yourself under the covers with a little wiggle. Whatever façade Seungkwan had been putting up crumbles completely at the sight. A blush creeps up his neck, barely visible in the dim light, but his smile widens.

He chuckles softly as he joins you on the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. After flicking the lampshade off, he carefully maneuvers himself right beside you until he feels your warmth hit his skin. Then he slowly circles his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his body, with your back meeting his chest. A low, contented hum leaves his lips as he simply holds you.

You wriggle in slightly, and he adjusts his hold, letting an arm curve over your stomach and the other one under your body to pull you even closer, fingers momentarily brushing against the hem of your shirt. You feel your legs entangle together under the blanket, and you swear the world gets smaller, quieter.

Seungkwan thinks you fit perfectly in his arms; it's like you've always belonged there.

"Comfortable?" he asks, voice muffled against you.

Your chest rises up and down with a soft sigh. "Mhm..."

The moments that pass are purely silence as he continues to hold you. You could probably fall asleep at this second, yet you feel the way Seungkwan's hand drifts lower from your waist, tracing gentle circles on the fabric of your shirt above your stomach. It's light, just barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

And then you feel him moving around behind you, breath tickling your skin, before his lips press a brief, tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

Maybe you can sense the small smile to his face right afterwards, too.

"You're so soft," he mutters, but there's a bit of tentativeness to his tone.

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. "I𑁋Aren't we supposed to be trying to sleep?"

"Sorry," Seungkwan apologises, but you can still hear the smile in his voice. He presses another gentle kiss to your neck, then draws back, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. "Just like holding you like this."

The giggle that leaves you is shaky, nervous, as if there's a small, timid butterfly trapped in your ribcage struggling to take flight. He can probably hear the way your heart is pounding like a damn drum right now, but he doesn't comment on it. Thank goodness.

A thought crosses your mind, and it takes you a minute to cave into flipping yourself over to face him. A groan escapes him from the sudden change in position, but he quickly settles. The two of you can't really see each other that well since the room was basically suspended in darkness, but you can clearly feel his presence beside you, all comforting and familiar.

"I like being held by you too," You confess quietly, each syllable laced with your own hesitancy. "I... I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms, to be honest."

The sound of Seungkwan's breath hitching echoes throughout the room. Are the walls closing in? He's not hallucinating or imagining any of this, right? He wishes he could pinch himself, but he's busy holding you, and you're the only thought filling his mind right now.

He leans in closer, ever so slowly. He can see the faint outline of your face thanks to the sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains.

But just as his lips are about to meet yours, you feel a sudden contact at the tip of your nose. You flinch a little, scrunching your nose up for a second, and Seungkwan pulls back immediately with a gasp.

"Oh my go𑁋did I just𑁋" He stammers frantically, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, uh..."

"Baby," You call out affirmingly, aimlessly bringing a hand up to cup his face through the darkness. Then you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, or specifically... the corner of his mouth. Close enough, anyway. "There we go."

Seungkwan just blinks, eyelashes batting furiously as he feels you shrink back into his hold. This time, you place your head at the crook of his neck, breathing fanning against his skin and making him shiver in your hold, even though he's supposed to be the big spoon.

"Let's go to sleep," You murmur lowly, and if he wasn't used to how pretty your voice sounds when you're tired by now, he should really get his shit together.

And so, Seungkwan just secures his hold around you, but not before mouthing a set of three words that he knows you can't see in the darkness, but hopes you can feel in his embrace.

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akystaracer22 · 3 months

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Maybe in Another Life We Would Hate Each Other a Little Less

A chance encounter sheds a little light on Adam that Lucifer couldn't have predicted, leading to a moment he thought he'd never have with the man.

Notes (Aka my thoughts while writing):

God is a dick and I wanna kill xem

Adam folds his wings like a bird because monkey see monkey do

Both these guys were traumatised by the same person and we don’t talk about it enough

Probably Guitarduck/Adamsapple but in a fledgeling platonic kinda way

Refer to my ref for what Adam looks like!

I listened to Rät while writing this and- it kind of fits Adam???

Jesus is God’s favourite child and it fucking shows

How tf did this become a sickfic????

Lucifer gets the experience of being me whenever I make the impulsive move to boot up Char.ai and talk to literally any of the AI’s, get aunt agonied bitch.

Oh my god Adam has middle child syndrome.

Can you tell I attended a Christian school when I was younger???

Adam was hiding just how fucked over he was from the wing rot but he’s not having a good time in this. Most of the latter half of the oneshot is him dazed from both the one set of wing rot and the feeling of someone touching his wing.

Shit emergency wing HC for Adam ig: His wings grow warmer corresponding to his mood, as in when he is in general happier his wings radiate warmth and when he’s in a foul mood they’re just normal or even a little cooler.

In saying that yes Lucifer’s wings glow when he’s happy

Word Count: 1902

Fic under cut!

“Fucking- Shit!”

Lucifer paused, looking behind him and backing up to peek through the crack in the door. This ought to be good.

Sure enough, he was right, this was entertaining.

Adam was ranting again.

Honestly it was a nearly daily thing by this point, probably the only good thing about his daughters decision to let Adam stay at the hotel. He loved his daughter, he really did, by Adam was… Adam.

Lucifer knew he was a lost cause.

But still, didn’t mean Lucifer couldn’t tease the hell out of the man since he was stuck down here with the rest of them.

Lucifer’s smirk at watching the first man rant quickly died as he took in the guys appearance, he looked…

“What is wrong with your wings.”

Adam jerked and twisted around, scowling at him and oops he said that out loud didn’t he.

“Piss off!”

Lucifer, in his typical fashion, did not piss off and instead entered the room, “No seriously what is wrong with your wings.”

Now that he was closer, the king was certain they didn’t look like that a week ago. The feathers, while already having looked like a wreck were duller and the colours seemed almost… muted. Ignoring the already horrific state Adam’s wing were in, they shouldn’t look THAT bad so why…

“Wait-”

“I said-!”

“Have you not been preening you wings?”

Adam went silent, staring wide eyed at Lucifer much to the kings confusion. A beat passed, then two.

“What the fuck is preening?”

Lucifer blinked, he wasn’t serious, was he?

Surely not.

“By the heavens you’re dead serious.”

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Lucifer debated whether he should explain it or not. On one hand, it’s Adam. On the other, Wings were a serious thing. He’d even seen Husker cleaning his wings from time to time, for Adam to just not know…

“You know what? For once my hatred of you is outweighed by my need to show you what’s what,” The fallen seraphim huffed, closing the door behind him and summoning a chair to block it from the outside so Adam couldn’t escape. “Come on we’re fixing this travesty.”

“What part of fuck off you do you not understand?!” The first man snapped, his wings mantling as Lucifer rifled through the closet, dragging out one of the many jars of oil he’d had the foresight to put in most of the rooms, perks of being a guy with basic common sense.

“The part where you’re being stupid and my daughter started rubbing off on me,” Lucifer shot back, his own wings serving well to corral Adam towards the bed, “How you don’t know how to preen your wings is beyond me but that’s ending today.”

“Again- what are you blabbering about.”

Lucifer paused, hand hovering just over Adams feathers. Preening someone elses wings was… intimate. It was something reserved for friends, family, lovers, and stuff… not enemies. Was he really going to just go ahead and clean Adams wings for him?

The seraphim’s eyes flicked over to where the ruined wing was draped over the bed. The wing was already in bad enough shape as it was, if he didn’t do this then wing rot was bound to hit it at some point and-

He didn’t really have a choice, not if he didn’t want to watch someone die of wing rot again.

Adam went stiff under Lucifers touch as he started work on the mans functioning wing, it was the easiest to work with, not the mention the safest to start with. The injured wing would no doubt be sensitive to any interaction, so better to start small.

Ish.

Adam shuddered as Lucifer moved between feather’s, periodically reapplying preening oil as he went. He was right as usual, looking closer most of the barbules had been separated and needed to be locked together again. Grimacing, the seraphim gently scratched out what looked like dried blood from where it was hidden in the base of Adam’s Secondary coverts.

“What are you doing?” Adam whispered, his voice for once lacking it’s usual bite. Lucifer paused for a second in confusion before Adam’s wing flexed back into Lucifer’s hand, “Don’t stop!”

“Okay okay!” The king huffed, working on his primaries, “What I’m doing is called preening. It’s something beings with feathers do to clean them.”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, like birds,” Lucifer agreed, “The oil helps take care of bacteria, but you got to realign the feathers, get rid of the ones ready to moult, and fix the feathers that are out of sorts, though you can just shake the feathers to do that part quicker.”

“Mhm”

Lucifer shifted over to finally tackle the ruined wing and froze, a chill slinking down his spine. As he took in the state of the tattered appendage.

“Shit.”

This close the seraphim could see the red pimples under the thinning layer of feathers surrounding the injury, it was wing rot in its early stages.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Lucifer dove his fingers into the scapulars to shut Adam up while he discreetly conjured up some disinfectant for the rot, if he’s lucky he can treat it now and just get Charlie or Vaggie to deal with it now, knock it over the head before it becomes so visible the others can notice. He ignored Adam’s breath hitching as the seraphim started, just as predicted, the wing was sensitive from the damage done to it.

“But seriously you need to do this more, this is just horrific,” Lucifer grumbled to himself, not really caring if Adam listened, “Honestly I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to you before!”

“Mmmm tried once… I think?”

Lucifer, glanced at Adam’s face, it was pointed away from him, but he could still sense Adam’s attention was on him, “Yeah?”

“Saw the birds doin’ it and tried to copy ‘em,” Adam continued at the prompt, spreading his other wing, “It hurt so I stopped, didn’ know there was a method to this shit or someth’n.”

“You… nobody even tried to teach you?”

“I think they thought I knew,” Adam chuckled sourly, “I think they thought I fu’kin knew how to just- do this. ‘Cause I was meant to right?!” Another laugh, “I bit the fu’kin apple so I shou’da known this kinda shit! Apple of knowl’dge or what’ver.”

Lucifer, wisely, didn’t say anything, he just kept working on Adam’s ruined wing, applying the disinfectant, and fixing what few feathers were still healthy and removing the rest. If it was anyone else in this situation he’s wrap the wing and tell them to rest but… it was still Adam that was in this mess.

“I- why didn’t they teach me? Luci why didn’t they teach me this shit?”

“I… don’t know,” Lucifer replied carefully, deliberately skipping over the butchering of his name that sounded way to close to a nickname for comfort, “Come on, up you get he still got the underside to finish then I’ll be out.”

Adam grumbled but complied, sitting up a little to turn around as Lucifer summoned a pillow for Adam to lean back on. Rolling his neck Lucifer got to work on the auxiliary feathers, the lighter feathers were definitely in better shape, but then again that wasn’t exactly a high bar, and they still were looking rough.

“Jesus was prob’bly taught how to preen himself.”

Lucifer’s shoulders hitched as his wings tucked in against his back abruptly. Jesus… was a rough topic. For all sinners talked about him, Lucifer never met him but from the sinners around that time… it was never a fun conversation. Pretentious once kings cursing his name while hopeless commoners lined up for the exorcists blade, faithful until the end that Jesus would let them into heaven if they just believed in him.

… there was a pattern in there, wasn’t there. Like father like son, he supposed.

“Jesus was made from me and yet he’s God’s favourite fukin kid, course he’d fucking know how to preen,” Adam continued unimpeded, “Doesn’t matter if I was Gods first- Jesus was always fucking better than me.”

Okay! Lucifer was in no way prepared for this conversation, but he highly doubted Adam was even going to remember this conversation, so he just focused on the wings.

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

Lucifer sincerely wished Anthony, or just anyone really would bust down the door at this moment, at least then he could get himself out of this conversation.

“Why do you think that?” the seraphim deflected, moving onto Adam’s good wing and going through his coverts.

“Because none of them ever fucking did this,” Adam waved his hand haphazardly before letting it rest on his chest, “You’re my enemy but you’re fixin’ my fu’kin wings because I’m too stupid and useless to just figure it out myself.”

“Not useless,” The words left Lucifer’s lips without his input, damn himself to double hell, but it managed to shut up Adam, so he kept on the thought train, “You’re not useless you were just never taught, it’s not your fault heaven doesn’t think.”

“Jesus-”

“Is God’s prodigal son and shouldn’t be counted.”

Adam huffed and leaned back on the pillow, “Why’re you good at this?”

“I’ve had aeon’s to learn, and over a decade of putting it in practice,” Lucifer thought about his daughter, a small smile making it’s way into his expression, she really was the best thing to happen to him.

He finished up with Adams good wing and moved onto finishing off the wrecked one. Applying the disinfectant to the infected spots on the underside before reaching for the preening oil again.

“Y’know, maybe in another life we would’ve hated each other less.”

Lucifer just laughed and started preening the wing, yeah right, maybe in a reality where the apple incident never happened, “You’re sick Adam, feverish even.”

“And you’re a wife-stealer.”

“Should have been better in bed.”

“Fuck you,”

Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the first man, earning a tired chuckle. Then the seraphim blinked at the sudden warmth radiating out from the feathers. What in the-?

“Oh… they haven’t done that in a while.”

Lucifer blinked up at Adam who was staring at his feathers in amazement, “Ackde-whuh?”

Adam leaned back and closed his eyes, “Yeah… sometimes they just get warm all of a sudden it’s weird. Hasn’t happened in a while though. Apparently it sometimes happened when Lute was around? I dunno why.”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times before letting out a small “huh” and running a hand through the ruined wing, it was definitely warmer.

Sighing, Lucifer let his hand fall away despite the wing chasing it, “Alright well your wings are definitely cleaner now, so I’ll be out of your hair now.”

The seraphim stood up to leave through the balcony, opening the window and almost stepping out when Adam called after him, still sounding exhausted.

“I can see why they left me for you.”

Lucifer paused, before smiling sardonically and looking back at Adam, who looked like he might have just passed out.

“Tell me that when you’re not delusional from illness and I might believe you.”

With that, Lucifer stepped out and left for his own room… though, if Adam woke up to a small plush duck on his nightstand, that was between Lucifer and the god that cast him down.

But there is one thing Lucifer will admit.

Maybe Charlie wasn't wrong about thinking Adam could be redeemed.

Pings:

@sleepy-hijinx @whatataha @cyborg0109 @birbisanon @legogator @overlord-rey @luckyburgerz @spiny-dogfishes @justakidicarus

#adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel fandom #guitarduck #platonic #written by an asexual #fluff #fallen angel adam #fallen angel #wing fic #angst #tw swearing #tw mentions of wing rot #i wrote this #I wrote with on four hours of sleep powered by caffeine and a cold #adamsapple #ashes to ashes dust to dust

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my-love-is-sunlight · 2 months

Text

Just the two of us

Sanji x gardener!reader

Warnings: none just pure fluff, fem reader in mind but can be read as gn reader, stablished relationship

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: In which your relationship with Sanji is still a secret

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“Hello, sunlight”

You looked up to meet Sanjis smile that shone brighter than the sun that beamed behind him.

You sat in the middle of your garden that you had began tending an hour ago, growing the new vegetables you had bought in the last island that the crew had docked at

“Hello handsome~” You returned the smile more than happy for the company, making him flush at your remark

Since you and Sanji had begun dating, you decided to keep it a secret, at least for now. Dealing with teasing and never ending questions from your crew mates at such early stages of the relationship didn’t seem ideal, instead, keeping to yourselves

But it had started to become difficult

You could literally see how much it physically pained Sanji to restrain himself from gushing all over you every time you met his gaze, or when you helped him in the kitchen, or when you thanked him for his amazing food, or when you were just… existing really

Sanji loved you 24/7, 365, and not being able to show it off to his friends was making him insane, and you were not any better either. Not being able to kiss, hug or even talk endearingly to your boyfriend whenever you wanted was tough, settling on stolen glances, sweet brushes and just being together in The Sunny and sharing company at night watches. Which it was nice of course! But it still had a toll on both of you

What you both didn’t know, is that everyone noticed what was happening, they just wanted to see how far you’ll get

I mean who wouldn’t? You’re always together no matter the situation or the setting. When you’re not together you’re looking at each other. Sanji had mastered on inserting you in every topic of conversation, and of course Nami and Robin had noticed how every night like clockwork you’ll leave the women’s quarters only to magically appear when they wake up. The way both of your body language and overall aura shifted whenever the other entered the room was palpable, almost too sweet.

It was unmissable

The cook settles beside you, letting his head fall on top of yours his hand locking with yours as he lets out a heavy sigh, tired of pretending not being head over heels for you. You relish in his touch growing sweet flowers in both of your hands that makes Sanjis heart miss several beats, you had found a way of showing your love through your powers that never seemed to not amaze and smitten him.

“I’ve missed you” he whispers, his eyes closed as he breathes in your beautiful sent and basks in the feeling your bodies touching

“But I’ve been here all day” you giggle, the sound making Sanjis ears perk up hearing his favorite melody

“You know what I mean”

You frown, stealing a glance of the blonde hair that nuzzles in you, it is quite difficult to date in a ship, it feels like you can never have privacy or just time to navigate your relationship, let alone do things without worrying about stares and teases. You loved the strawhats, they were your new found family, but this… you had to work and enjoy on your own time and pace

You sigh before kissing the cooks cheek tenderly, you know better than anyone how passionate he is, you cannot imagine how he must feel to not being able to just be himself like he would wish to around you

“You know I love you, right?” The question baffles the blonde, making him look at you immediately

“Of course dear, don’t I show it enough?” A hint of worry colors his words which makes your heart clench

“You do!” You answer him quickly “I just… know it’s been difficult for you and-“

Everything seemed to fade in the background, not even hearing how were you trying to explain yourself to him.

One of the first things that had made Sanji gravitate towards you quite more often than anyone else in the crew, besides your glowing beauty according to him, was how you cared so deeply. You cared about everyone’s health and happiness, your garden, your dreams, about your place in the crew and, the one most shocking for the cook, him. You were always there for Sanji, through his good and bad no matter what he needed you were there, for a talk, a quiet company, to offer a shoulder to cry or to taste his culinary creations.

You saw something in him that no one else (apart from luffy) did, he always wondered what it may be, even now that you had promised to be by each other’s sides. You were perfect for him, he knew it the moment he saw you, thoughts of you flooding his mind ever since.

Sanji holds your hands that always seemed to move around whenever you were trying to explain something ,which was an antic of yours he loved, he pressed his forehead in yours, breathing stuck in your throat

“You’re too good to me, mon amour”

A shiver ran down your spine at the french words that left his lips, coloring your cheeks all shades of red and pink. His wondering eyes shifting between your eyes and your rose lips that begged to met his. You smile and indulge by kissing him softly, always pouring your heart into every touch, both your heartstrings pulling at each others embrace

He deepens the kiss, long limbs traveling trough your edges and making you almost fall flat on the grass

“Slow down lover boy” you smile breaking the kiss knowing well where this would lead, Sanji looks at you with lost puppy eyes but you were not risking it

You lay down patting the grass yo your side coaxing him to relax with you, he follows your motions but instead of laying down he supports himself on his elbows while looking down at you, caressing your features

Luffys voice echoes through The Sunny while he calls for Sanji, wondering around when he finds Robin and Nami who were peeking at the cute moment between you both in silence

“Have you guys seen Sanji? I’m starving” Luffy cries settling between them

“Shh Luffy they’ll hear you” the navigator protest making Robin giggle

The captain redirects his vision to your garden, smiling ear to ear

“Why are they hiding?” He’s met with silence from both women who to be honest, didn’t really know why

“We should let them handle this at their own time, captain” Robin answers

“They’re so stupid, like we’ll do something bad about it” Nami rolls her eyes playfully while Luffy ponders quietly beside her

“Maybe they don’t want to ruin what they have”

Yeah, we’ll give them time

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Oh my it’s been a while since I’ve posted about these two, next one of the series would be about how reader met the strawhats! As always request are open and feel free to correct me, English is not my first language

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anonymous-dentist · 5 months

Text

A Very Long qRoier Theory

Okay so here's what I actually think, and TRUST THE PROCESS OKAY:

I think that Roier really was kidnapped by the Federation, but I don't think that he was taken because he was looking for Cellbit strictly because the Feds themselves are actually more or less actively searching for the missing islanders and hoping for their return so they can continue the murder investigation. Despite the terrible things going on, the Feds legitimately want all their islanders/lab rats back on the island so they can continue with whatever experiment they're holding. Every time Cucurucho has held a meeting recently, it's asked about the status of the missing islanders, so it really wouldn't make sense for it or the Feds as a whole to punish their one single lead in the case when every actual Federation agent assigned to the case has either come up with nothing or disappeared entirely.

Nah, I think Roier was taken because he was vulnerable and because the Feds figured nobody would've missed him. They know that he isn't really super close with anybody on the island but Cellbit, and they know that he's been actively pushing people away for a while now- basically since Bobby's death, and moreso since his return from Purgatory.

Looking at the QSMP channel's streams, particularly Elena's, we know that the Feds seem to be a pharmaceutical company. They, simply speaking, make drugs. Look at the "happy pills" that Elena helped create, this is what the Feds do.

Roier mentioned that he was drugged. He never said that they stopped drugging him. I think he's still being drugged and that he isn't a rat- not a literal one, anyway.

I think that Roier is still under the effects of the drugs he's being given because he is currently a test subject. He's a lab rat.... at the moment, anyway.

More on that later.

Do I have any evidence for this? Not really, but also some things just didn't add up cinematically. Like, okay, go back and watch everything from after when Roier 'wakes up' in the dungeon:

Everything's got this weird otherworldly fuzziness and glow to it. It's almost dreamlike in a way. Only the focus of the world is, well, in focus. The rest is blurred like a bad 3D movie:

There are all these weird cuts and jumps, too, like 11:16 when we suddenly cut to black for a few moments as Roier goes down the hallway, or 12:13 when we smash cut to the rat and 12:16 when we cut to Cucurucho. It's super sudden and jarring and it sets up a real nice feeling of unease (shoutout to ccRoier, this is SPECTACULAR)

And the music, okay, the background music is exactly the kind of shit you'd hear in a 'Dreamcore Music Video' on YouTube. It's super Backrooms, super weird esoteric vibes, and that's very on purpose.

None of this is real, and "Doied" is the final proof because like. He isn't real lol, if he's real then so is Roger, and the only times either of them front are when Roier's goofing around or when he's extremely homicidal (we saw Roger pretty recently, actually, back in October when he said that Cellbit killing everyone might be a good thing, actually.) Doied isn't like Abueloier or Melissa, he's one of Roier's 'alters', and he's a bit of a freak lol

I think about everyone can agree that this whole 'Ratoier' thing is a hallucination, but then we have to think, huh, what the hell does any of this mean?

First, we gotta follow the whole 'Roier is Currently Super Drugged' thing, because he is. He literally is. If he's not, well, laugh at me when the next tape comes out.

Roier is drugged by the Feds right now probably to test a new drug, possibly a drug meant to- just like the Happy Pills- make people happy again. In this case, however, I think that the pills may actually have something to do with memories, particularly the same memory retrieval stuff the Resistance did to Bagi. Because, well.

I want to go back to the rat, and I want to go back to Doied, because this stream actually implied a LOT about qRoier's character.

The thing about Doied is that he's the manifestation of Roier's "Um, actually!" Nerd Emoji self. He's a nerd. He's a loser with glasses and a nasty attitude.

Doied, in the dream, is a scientist. Doied, in the dream, performed horrible, inhumane experiments for the Federation. He put Roier's brain into a rat's, a lab rat's.

Once a long, long time ago in August, Roier quietly came to the realization that maybe he has a past history with the Federation and that's why Osito Bimbo has always been so weird about him- it basically had a crush on him for the first week or so of the island, and it still seems to, and he is still the only one outside of Foolish the Federation Employee to be addressed directly by his train ticket number: 0037. He brought up the possibility of being a Federation worker in the past to Cellbit, who brushed it off and said that he wouldn't care because he's a worker, too, technically, but what if it isn't a possibility?

We've always wondered how Federation workers end up the way they do. Why are they all the exact same type of bear? Why does only Cucurucho get to have a face and a voice? Why do they all have human minds and emotions? Why are they all dedicated to the Federation?

Easy. Because maybe they were people before, just like how Bagi and several other islanders think they are. But maybe someone put their brains inside of an animal's body- or, at least, inside of a worker's body, God only knows if they were actual polar bears at some point. Somebody had to help come up with that technology, and maybe it's the guy who managed to build an entire computer and radio-satellite setup over the span of about a week in his goddamn backyard without anybody knowing about it.

Roier has always had some weird connection with the Federation. He's the only civilian islander to ever be addressed by his ticket number, and later we find out that Foolish's ticket number- 0039- is his Federation Employee ID Number- W0039. He was Osito Bimbo's favorite for the first week on the island to the point of Osito just giving him whatever he wanted. He and Jaiden were paired up for the Egg Event (something that was intentional, btw, admin confirmed), and it's later revealed that Jaiden has a past with the Federation regarding the SMILE Units (aka Osito Bimbo and Cucurucho and the new guys.) The "Gods" (aka the admins) will happily follow him around and revive him when he's alone and strike him with lightning when asked and give him dirt and whatever. He managed to get someone onto the island from off of the island, Abueloier, and Abueloier was saved from the brink of death by the Federation in the Federation's hospital. His literal pet dog is a Federation employee. He got to name Jorgito the IV Drip.

Doied put someone's brain into the body of a rat, and Doied is Roier's nerd self.

I think that Roier may, in fact, have a past history with the Federation, and that it isn't because his grandfather worked/works for them. Maybe Roier did, just like he suspected months ago, and maybe he did some really bad things. But they were excused at the time because the people being converted into workers were bad people who made mistakes. Roier made the mistake of breaking the rules trying to connect with Cellbit, and so he got turned into a rat. There's been a functional prison on the island for long enough for it to be partially abandoned (see: Tazercraft Prison Stream.) Walter Bob was held there, possibly because he was part of the Resistance, or possibly because he wasn't done cooking yet.

Roier has always been a man of justice. When people do bad things, they get punished, and then things can go back to normal. He ruined Quackity's life. He wanted Slime to be properly punished for killing Tilin and he threatened to murder him when he tried threatening the kids. He built an entire torture dungeon in his basement for the explicit purpose of torturing Spreen to the point of death repeatedly and possibly for the rest of Spreen's miserable life. Cucurucho took Bobby away, and Roier said that the Federation would regret putting and keeping him on the island. Pozolito the Capybara blew Cellbit up, and Roier has literally tried killing every Capybara he's seen since. The Federation screwed with his family and with himself, and Roier is more than happy to join Cellbit in massacring the entire Federation.

He's a man of justice, but not of morals. He's a ruthless killer when it comes down to it, and he only shows regret when it comes to his husband's deaths during Purgatory. He doesn't fight unless he has to, but he's been thinking about killing everyone on the island since the first week of the server when he was betrayed. But, when it comes down to it, he doesn't actually want to hurt anyone he cares about. It's why Purgatory fucked him up so much.

His moral alignment actually matches up pretty well with several other Federation workers'- particularly workers like Elena and Fred who are nice but are willing to do terrible things in the name of their cause. The difference here is that Roier has had the same privilege that workers like Walter Bob and Ron got: he got a chance to socialize.

He doesn't have memories from before the island, but he remembers enough about his childhood to be a little suspicious.

But what if these drug-induced hallucinations are actually hints to Roier's backstory? What if it wasn't Doied running all these terrible experiments for the Federation, but it was Roier? Just a guy acting under the belief that he was making the world a better place, punishing criminals (aka rule breakers) while helping the Federation's cause: finding true happiness and spreading it to the world.

The Eye said that everybody in Purgatory was a sinner, and maybe Roier's sin was some mad scientist bullshit.

The dream today, Tape 1, had Roier being punished. Maybe it's because that's what he did as a scientist to new employees, or maybe it's because of his own guilt over everything he's done; remember, the reason he stopped smiling in Purgatory wasn't because he was killing his friends (because he's thought about killing his friends for a VERY long time), but it was because he killed Cellbit, and then it was because he left Cellbit behind to die. That's why the dream specified Cellbit's lost signal and not, say, Jaiden's, and it's why all the cool cinematic landscape shots focused on either Roier himself or Cellbit.

If my prediction is correct, Tape 2 would have Roger instead of Doied. So we'll see what happens then, I guess. Roger, who represents Roier's anger and his various homicidal tendencies.

Fit said that everybody was on the island for a reason, and Roier has been cooking for a long time now. Maybe qRoier is just like qJaiden: a former Federation associate.

TLDR; qRoier is currently hallucinating due to him being a Federation lab rat. His drug-induced dreams may be implying that Roier has a past within the Federation as a scientist completing the same experiments that "Doied" did in the dream to Roier.

But that's just a theory, a Game Theory. Thank you for reading.

#qsmp theory #qsmp #qroier #long post #guys idk if this makes sense #but it does to me!!!!!

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cartierre · 1 year

Text

ALWAYS FOREVER | mv1

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU max verstappen x fem!indian!reader

♡ liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, f1 and 649,405 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1 मैं करता हूं (i do)

view all 2,398 comments

yourusername मैं आपसे बहुत प्यार है (i love you so much) comment liked by maxverstappen1

user1 rue, when was this?

user2 did we just get harder than hard launched by max?

danielricciardo amazing wedding, so happy for both of you!

christianhorner it's wonderful seeing you grow up and being a husband now. you better treat her good! ⤷ user3 christian defending y/n is so adorable ⤷ user4 not only a second dad to max but apparently also to her hahahahahah

user5 i'm speechless. i- what even happened ⤷ user6 how did we all collectively just missed that max was dating (and is now married!) to someone????

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yourusername so many differences and yet here we are; mr. and mrs. verstappen

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maxverstappen1 most beautiful woman, mrs. verstappen ⤷ yourusername well thank you very much, mr. verstappen

user7 not her changing her beautiful desi surname to some generic bitch ass white one ⤷ user8 she probably wanted it? that's her decision to make?

user9 they're so beautiful omfg

user10 i'm still in tears how max fully embraced her culture for their wedding like the OUTFITS he looks so good in traditional indian clothes

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, schecoperez and 128,394 others

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yourusername summer break/honeymoon in delhi

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user11 i need more desi max content ⤷ user12 i didn't even know i needed it this bad

user13 why do i feel so proud seeing them together? i'm in tears they're so cute

user14 i've seen some paparazzi photos of them in delhi and lemme tell you max is literally GLOWING idk who y/n really is but she's doing him so good

user15 them spending their honeymoon in delhi feels so special to me as an indian fan of max. him learning and embracing our culture makes me just love him even more.

♡ liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 87,392 others

yourusername zandvoort ✿

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user16 omg is she going to attend the gp this weekend? ⤷ user17 probably ⤷ user18 this will be the first time we'll see her at a race! ⤷ user19 can't wait for her paddock fashion game ngl

redbullracing our good luck charm 💪🏼 comment liked by yourusername

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yourusername now that i've seen you win once in person, trust me: i won't be leaving you alone to any races from now on. i'm so proud of you, माय लव (my love)

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maxverstappen1 ❤️❤️

user20 watch her post one of these every few weekends because max is unstoppable ⤷ user21 this man doesn't know how to loose ⤷ user22 he's not only winning at races but also at life i mean she's so cute

redbullracing our good luck charm seems to have proven their value ⤷ yourusername i'm happy to be of service

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maxverstappen1 जन्मदिन की शुभकामनाएं ✨ (best wishes for your birthday)

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user23 him learning hindi for her is the most adorable thing ⤷ user24 is she learning dutch for him tho? cuz i haven't seen her going around speaking in dutch ⤷ user25 girl- bffr

yourusername हमेशा के लिए हमेशा के लिए (always forever) ⤷ yourusername altijd voor altijd (always forever)

user26 HAHAHA Y/N POSTING HER COMMENT IN HINDI AND DUTCH HAS ME ON MY KNEES ⤷ user27 she really said 'enough of this shit talking' lmaoooo ⤷ user28 i love her for that

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x y/n #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

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yuri-is-online · 9 months

Text

There's Mud in Your Eye (Leona and Deuce x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, i am out of creative ways to describe these: it's Cheka and Mamma Spade. Slight references to the White Rabbit event. If you liked this please check out the previous parts on my master list here.

Leona

A very confused, very important looking little lion is standing in front of you, attempting to mimic Leona's judgey thinking face. Five year olds lack the smarmy bitterness required to truly pull off the look, but you have to admit, it is pretty cute.

"Um, do you think he ran away from his guards again?" Grim whispers, painfully loud and without nearly enough concern. "Do you think we'll get in trouble if we can't get him back to his retainers?" The scenario feels completely unreal, but then again so does standing in front of royalty. Who are you again anyway? Just some weirdo who is going to have to apologize to their loved ones for taking so long to come home because you couldn't sneeze in another world without bumping into royalty. While you are busy considering whether or not it would be considered child neglect to sprint away from the little guy, Cheka finally finishes his thought process, letting out a contented "hmmm" as he points decisively at you.

"You," he says with all the authority of an extra on a children's tv show "are not Unca."

Well.

That was not what you were expecting. Your mind draws a lengthy blank as Cheka grins up at you in a surprisingly catlike manner seemingly very pleased with himself.

"How did it take ya so long to figure that out?" It has to be a truly stupid question to get Grim's voice to crack.

"Well I decided I was gonna sneak up on Unca." A terrible idea really but who are you to refute royalty. "So instead of running around and askin I decided to just focus on his scent! But I found two places he could be so I just decided to go to the closer one."

"Whatdya mean?" Grim takes a deep breath and interrupts his train of thought with a hard gag you really hope is dramatic. "Oh wow he ain't wrong, you really smell like that lazy bi-" You manage to muzzle him before he can teach Checka too many bad words. You wonder if it would be rude to sniff yourself in front of a literal prince, Cheka's pleased little tail swish doesn't help.

"Can you please take me to Unca?" he asks, so very sweetly looking up at you like you're the shiniest star in the night sky. It hurts to disappoint him.

"Uh I'd love to little guy but I'm not too sure where he is..." you really hope Cheka can't tell just how nervous you are. Crowley did give you a schedule, but it wasn't super detailed, just a vague set of notes about the various events going on.

"Then I'll just stay here with you!" He says, with a surprising degree of authority. "Unca's scent is really strong so I'm sure he'll show up soon!"

''I don't think that's a good idea little guy." You just called the Crown Prince of the Sunset Savannah a little guy. Which he is but you are pretty sure there's a time period where that would have gotten you executed, and you can only pray it's not now. The intense look of what you assume are Cheka's guards running up the main street is not helping with that.

"Your highness! Please don't run off like that." The man seems wary of scolding the prince, but he has no qualms about staring you down. "You! What is your name and who do you think you are to be speaking so casually to-" He cuts himself off, bluster fading as he takes a deep breath and starts staggering away from you. Well not you per se, you realize as you turn around and see an extremely intense looking Leona behind you.

"Stop blamin' your inability to do your job on other people." Leona's voice is slow, authoritative enough that you almost forget he's supposed to be the second prince. The guards do too, until Cheka jumps away from them onto Leona's shoulders and shatters the illusion just a bit.

"Unca! Unca! You're gonna show me the spelldive fields right?" Cheka nuzzles his Uncle's cheek while Leona tries his best to get away.

"I thought you were gonna stay with Prefect." He grumbles.

"We can come with." You say before you fully realize what you're saying surprised at how ok you are with the offer. Cheka lights up, jumping away from his Uncle to nuzzle up to you. Leona's gaze softens ever so slightly, even if he immediately breaks eye contact and starts walking away from you.

"You're welcome to come if you can keep up." You try to convince yourself you follow him just to get away from the guards, but there's a spring in both your steps no one is brave enough to act like they notice.

Deuce

"Yuu! And Grim too! Lucky me I thought I was going to be stuck looking for my kids for at least another hour." Dilla Spade cheerfully says, her decision to refer to you as her child momentarily distracting you from the fact Deuce is nowhere to be seen. She seems to have been granted a day off from work, her usual delivery uniform ditched in favor of a very mom like set of old sweatpants and an old athletic jacket with a logo you assumed belonged to Deuce's middle school.

"Mama Spade!" Strange feelings aside you are extremely happy to see Dilla, and happier still when she perks up just a bit at your calling her mom. "Did Deuce forget to text you again?"

"Not exactly," she says with an affectionate sigh "I caught up with him a bit earlier but he ran off to find his Housewarden. He really wanted to introduce us but said it might be a bit difficult to make that happen."

"Yeah..." Grim says as you exchange a look "Riddle's a really busy guy."

"Well never mind then." She says with a shrug. "What's up with you? Deucey tells me all sorts of things, but it's never the full truth." You shouldn't be surprised Dilla knows something is up. Honestly it's a wonder any of the students with a half way decent relationship with their parents hasn't been yanked out of this school already.

"Nothing too bad I hope?" You say, hopeful that Dilla will give you something to work with so you don't confess to something too wild. She laughs.

"I'm a mom, worrying's part of the territory." You breathe a sigh of relief, though you can't help but wonder just what Dilla's reaction would be to knowing Deuce had fought four overblot phantoms. Would she be proud? You hope so, he deserves it. "I keep telling Deuce to invite you to spend summer with us but he's really hung up on doing things the 'honorable way.'" You try your best not to fluster.

"What's that even mean?" Whines Grim, probably thinking more about the donuts you had while visiting Clock Town more than the implications kicking around in your mind. "offerin' to help me and my hench human out is honorable enough!"

"It really is," you try not to come off as too eager, it would be really nice to spend the Summer somewhere that wasn't Ramshackle, even if it would hurt the ghost's feelin-

"Is Deuce waitin' till he can afford a ring or somethin'?" Grim says, crossing his little paws and sticking your words in your throat. Dilla winking at the little monster with a conspiratorial grin makes you choke. "He is isn't he! Hmph, figures. Well he knows he won't get the Great Grim's permission!"

"Grim!" You squeak.

"Well you are a bit young," Dilla says "but you have my blessing prefect."

"I- I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding-" you don't want to get anyone's hopes up, you aren't even dating Deuce, you want to say that you don't like him that way, but the lie dies on your lips as a familiar duo comes into view just behind Dilla.

"MOM! oh and PREFECT!!!" The overwhelming joy in Deuce's eyes contrasting with the smug amusement of Ace makes you feel just a bit more at home, despite the awkwardness of the situation. You can almost convince yourself that he's running up the road on the double just to see you.

"Think of it this way," whispers Dilla, firmly placing a hand on your shoulder in a comforting and not forceful way "you're family, and you always will be no matter what label gets slapped on things. Though I am pretty sure you can guess Deuce's preference."

You can, or at least you can hope.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #deuce spade x reader #i am so sorry this took forever i have been playing baldur's gate #i had one for epel but i didn't like it so it's getting re written

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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Happy with the staff content this year but am I the only one who is disappointed with the PV we got? It's basically a slideshow of art we've already seen, major downgrade from the year 1 PV that had literally all the events. There was a drop in quality of the anniversary PVs over the years and it really shows this year. Sorry if you find this too negative I don't mean to hate I just wish Twst would do better for it's ANNIVERSARY.

[For everyone's reference, here are the anniversary PVs in order of release: 2021 / 2022 / 2023 / 2024]

Mmm, now that you mention it, I noticed this trend with the Halloween PVs 🤔 For year 1, there was a video that showed all members of the NRC casy, even those that did not receive cards at that time. There were then several short variants of the PV released for year 2/Endless Halloween Night (part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4). Altogether, they feature all of the characters, including the students from year 1 but heavily shadowed and with glowing eyes to indicate ghostly possession. Even Glorious Masquerade features all of the students that get new cards for the event plus Rollo, although there are notably more still shots here. The Stage in Playful Land CM, by comparison, is significantly shorter and only shows us the three SSRs (Ace, Ortho, and Kalim) as well as the two new characters (Fellow and Gidel).

As this anon has said, the anniversary PVs have changed a lot over time too. The first one was the most animated and integrated several event outfits. The second one was also animated a fair amount, but you can tell corners were cut in some places where they transition to photographs/still images. This alone works thematically given that the player is a photographer, but you can still catch dips in quality when it comes to the art style. I remember finding Deuce running and the Kalim + Silver flying scene odd, as well as Jade and Trein's faces strange in general. Then the third PV rolls around and it only features the third years; the animation also seems to be much more sluggish (although this could be a stylistic choice; not sure). A friend actually recently pointed out to me that Lilia's pose looks like he was pulled straight from other assets; his artwork in the animation is almost the exact same as his smiling expression in the game. This year's is the most different (+ most static) and, like year 3's PV, only provides "new" content for a select few characters (the dorm leaders). They also reuse pre-existing illustrations already found in the game that don't seem to be picked for any particular reason (like, there are random Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles groovies in there). This direction, I'm guessing, is less costly and more efficient than making an entirely original animation, which is what was done in previous years. (Not that Disney or Aniplex is hurting for money to fund this, lol) Would I have preferred another PV in the style of year 1's? Yeah, for sure. I want to see other events and their outfits animated! Was what we got this year bad? Not necessarily; I think the production and editing was very technically impressive, but I'm still sad we didn't get anything substantially "new" to chew on (as someone who isn't a fan of most third years or the dorm leaders). Maybe it's just something we perceive as a deficit only because year 1 set the bar so high. It is what it is; whoever was in charge of the anniversary PV was probably doing the best they could with whatever budget they were given 😔 Let's hope that next year's will be a return to form, or that at least the money/effort is being redirected to other bigger projects (maybe the anime?).

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jarofstyles · 9 days

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Sugar, Sugar 13

Hey… sorry it’s been so long angels 😭 here you go!! I hope you missed them as much as I did.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings

Sugar Sugar masterlist

WC- 3.1k

warnings- mentions of disordered eating and bad relationship with food, body issues, fad diet mention, bad relationship with a parent, body shaming, etc

--------

“So, spill. How was it?” Delilah asked as she eyed Y/N.

“How was what?” Playing coy behind the counter, she did the initial cash wrap check as she avoided her best friend’s eyes. She knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Getting railed half to death.” She deadpanned, making Y/N choke on her laughter. “Don’t play games with me, girl. I can see your literal glow.” She paused, her eyes moving south. “And your man has a nasty habit of biting you.” He did. Y/N knew exactly where the hickey was on her collarbone, but her wrap she had on over her lacy tank top usually hid it. She was just careless this morning and didn’t think about it being on display.

“He is quite bad with that, isn’t he?” She snorted, turning to her friend with giddy light in her eyes. “Great. Better than I expected. Made me really comfortable and I spent the whole night and day.. Y’know.” Her face felt hot as she placed the cash into the register before starting up the POS and making sure everything would be right for when the day ended. “I was worried for nothing. The man is kinda unreal, if I’m being honest. I was taken care of in every way. I shouldn’t be surprised considering he’s been really good to me so far.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder, the drawer was closed and she took note of her green tea, picking it up for a sip now that it wouldn’t burn her tongue.

“It’s what you deserve.” Her friend smiled softly. “You deserve a great love like you read about in your books. Besides, I know you’re going to get it. It’s written in the stars.” She was joking, but also… not really. Delilah knew things without knowing how she knew them, and it was almost always true. “Where is he today? Are we expecting a drop in from him?”

“Actually, I don’t know.” Y/N hummed. He hadn’t replied after his initial good morning message but she wasn’t too worried about it. “He said something about stopping by the bakery. He had today off to go run errands so he’ll be dropping things off but I know I’m seeing him tomorrow. We’re going to that new pizza place.” She was excited about that. There was a flatbread she was looking forward to trying, and Harry had suggested getting two different things and splitting it. It was nice to feel comfortable eating with someone. That was one of the anxiety triggers she had to unlearn as she got older.

“I think we’re going to get a drop in.” Taking one of the baskets they used for restocks, she went towards the tumble table and began to deposit the little baggies of colorful stones and minerals into the correct cubbies. “Have you brought up that Claire woman yet?”

Y/N hadn’t, very well for a reason. She didn’t like the feeling it gave her stomach. Somehow, she was well aware she and Harry had been involved. Somehow, someway. It didn’t seem strong, as she obviously couldn’t be that close to him anymore if she’s unable to contact him but… It still wasn’t a good feeling. The woman wasn’t nice, her energy was rancid and muddy, and she obviously looked down on them for believing in their own thing. That was the exact person she tried to avoid. Y/N knew it was perhaps rude to judge solely off of one interaction, but something told her Harry wouldn’t be happy to hear about her coming in.

“Not yet.” She said sheepishly, spooning a bit of yogurt into her mouth. “I know, you don’t have to give me the eyebrow. I’m just… You know how it is. When you know it’s going to cause an issue.” Y/N didn’t think it would be with her but the idea of upsetting Harry at all wasn’t something she enjoyed. Being so new in the relationship, she wanted that honeymoon stage. It had been so lovely this far, she selfishly wanted to avoid the past and the real world from inserting themselves in her rose colored daydream with her dreamy new boyfriend.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how life worked.

“Putting it off isn’t doing either of you any favors, Cher.” She gave her another look, hanging up a necklace back on the display. “I trust you to handle it on your own time, but do it soon. I have a feeling she isn’t done sniffing around yet.”

—--

“Hey.” A wide smile greeted her as she heard the chime of the bells on the door, seeing the man that had been on her mind. High waisted black pants with a flare at the bottom and a yellow tee shirt, he walked in with his boots clicking on the hardwood floor. Lifting his sunglasses off his face into his fluffy hair, he extended his arms to motion for her to walk into them. She did so without a question. How could she not?

Falling into his warm scent, she nuzzled her face into his neck and allowed herself to be engulfed in him. Something about them felt closer now. More intimate. Maybe she was making it up but a layer had been shed and he felt even more close to her soul. Lips pecked a few times into her hair, swaying her back and forth as her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, a relieved sigh leaving the man. “Y’alright, Sugar?”

“Mhm.” She nodded against him. “Tired. Spilled my coffee a quarter through but it’s been a bit busy today so we haven’t had the chance to get away. You win some, you lose some.” She’d rather be a little tired and making money, giving readings, all of that.

“Should have texted me.” His tongue clicked, finally getting a good look at her as she pulled out of his neck. Didn’t she realize he’d do almost anything for her? “Would have brought you some over, sweets. What good is having a boyfriend if you’re not gonna use me?” He was joking, but not really. He knew that he’d bend over backwards for the girl in his arms.

“In all honesty, I didn’t even think about it. I knew you were busy today running errands and we had a lot of walk in readings, I’ve been a little busy.” Her fingers ran through his hair again, liking how it felt between them. He always melted like a pup getting pets when she did it too, so it was a win win. “Did you get everything done that you needed?”

“I did.” He moved on swiftly. “Are you sayin’ you didn’t eat?” His brow raised, making her wince. Sometimes she forgot, but it wasn’t on purpose. It was genuine distraction. “Baby…”

“I had a yogurt and granola bar. I was planning on making some food when I got home, but I was busy. Promise.” She tried her luck at a pout which luckily seemed to break down the glare.

“Too bad.” He sighed. “M’gonna run and get you both food. I don’t like this, Sugar.” Large hands cupped her face, making her feel more delicate than she ever had been. Sometimes it felt hard to lean into that femininity of delicacy when she’d been treated as the opposite most of her life, but Harry had her falling into it so easily. “I know you’re a big girl and you can handle yourself, but it’s okay to ask me for help. I want to help you, I want to be a good boyfriend and grab your things when you’re busy. I know you’d do the same for me.” She already had. The girl had given him a whole welcome basket when he opened his own business, for fucks sake.

“I know. It’s…” Feeling slightly guilty now, she rested her hands on his wrists. “It’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been independent for years now and I don’t like to rely on people.” It was always thrown back in her face. “I’ll try harder, H. Promise.” Turning her head, she caught his palm with her lips and pressed kisses to it. That move melted him completely, leaning down to kiss her lips a few times before peeling himself away.

“Good girl. I’ll be back in a bit. Be good for me.”

Y/N hated to see him go, but she loved to watch him leave. Still buzzing from the affection, she jumped as Delilah came out of the back room fanning herself.

“That man is completely gone for you. Lord…” She shook her head. “What a guy. I’m glad he wants to take care of you, Cher. You deserve it.” Her hand squeezed her shoulder as she slipped past her.

“It has nothing to do with the fact he’s getting you lunch too?” She snickered, watching her friend shrug.

“That definitely helps.”

—--

Y/N’s good mood was squashed just 10 minutes later when a familiar face walked through the shop doors, nose wrinkling at the scent of the incense.

God, why now?

“Y/N, I’ve told you that these smoky scents are going to drive away customers.”

Yeah, that was the point. Drive away customers with impure intentions.

“Hi, Mother.” Y/N sighed, feeling her shoulders tighten as she watched the woman come closer into the shop. Her tumultuous relationship with her mother had a lot to do with the fact that Y/N reminded her of her own. They’d been extremely close, sharing their love of the spiritual world, of magic, all the things while her mom had rejected it. Y/N had been easier to bond with for her grandmother and she knew she held resentment over it for years.

She wasn’t an awful person, was the thing. She liked to support her at school, took her shopping for makeup, taught her how to do her hair and tie her shoes. She held her when she was sick, stuck up for her when she got bullied- but she didn’t realize she herself was her daughter’s first and biggest bully.

“Hello. It’s been weeks since you’ve visited me or your father.” She sent her a look. “Are you well? Do you need money? I know the shop is a bit of a hard venture to keep up…”

There it was. Her mother had always hated this shop. Hated what it stood for, what it represented. Y/N never faulted or judged someone for not believing or being connected in the things she was. It was a calling, she truly believed, whether natural or brought on by a life event. But her mother thought it to be a bit of a waste of time. Always expecting her downfall, though she didn’t think she was cruel enough to hope for it.

“No, we’re actually doing incredibly well.” It was the truth. They were making bigger profits than the years before and she was more than glad about that. They’d paid off the loan they took out and now they were working towards a possible expansion. But her mom didn’t want to hear about that. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’ve been a bit busy.”

Her mom gave her a scrutinizing eye, unsure if she believed her. Y/N wasn’t usually a busy person, despite the shop. She liked a slower lifestyle and she knew that, which is why she understood the look on her face. “Have you gone back to the gym like I asked? I haven’t seen you there. I can go with you, you know. I think you’d love my trainer. He’s very dedicated.”

There it was again. Y/N felt her stomach drop, though she should have expected it. Her mother was obsessed with her weight. She’d been the one to try and get her on diets at an early age, effectively ruining her relationship with food. While she knew her mother was someone who cared about her, sometimes she cared about the wrong things a bit too much. Once Y/N had made peace with the fact that she’d always be a bigger girl, her mother had pushed back at it causing more of a rift. She wasn’t going along with her plans and fad diets anymore, and it felt like a personal insult.

“No, no. I’ve been busy with something else, actually.” With Harry. The pretty, driven, thoughtful man that had her tummy in knots and her head in the clouds.

“Well, what? I’ve sent you dozens of recipes. I doubt you’ve tried them though. It looks like you’ve put on a bit of weight in the last few weeks. I thought you were making progress.” Her frown made Y/N’s stomach hurt. She’d resigned herself into knowing she would probably never get her mother’s approval on her body, but the reminders didn’t do much to make her feel good. Accepting it didn’t mean liking it.

“I may have. I’ve been fine, though.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’ll come by for dinner next week, I promise. I just-”

The door chimed again, interrupting them both. Her stomach dropped as she saw Harry’s smiling face, something that usually would make her erupt into butterflies- but this wasn’t the introduction she wanted to make. Not quite yet.

“I’m back, sorry. There was a line.” He murmured, going behind the desk and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her body flushed as she looked towards her mother, her eyes wide as Harry adjusted her hair for her before setting the food bag and coffee tray on the counter. “Sorry, I’ll step out of the way if you’re helping someone.”

“Who’s this?” Her mother’s interest was immediately evident.

“I’m Harry, Y/N’s boyfriend. Nice t’meet you. What’s your name?” He asked, placing a hand on his girlfriend’s back.

“H, this is my mother.” Y/N swallowed, looking between the two of them. She could see his eyes widen, reaching a hand out for her to shake. He was always so polite, so charming, but she couldn’t help but see the look on her mom’s face.

“You’re her boyfriend?” She asked, brows raised. Her voice sounded in disbelief, looking between the two of them as if something didn’t add up. “I didn’t know she even had a boyfriend.”

Thankfully she’d let him know she hadn’t exactly told her yet so he didn’t seem shocked about that, but the meeting was a little unorthodox.

His brows did furrow at her tone and she could tell he didn’t like it. But for her sake he kept a smile on his face, shaking the woman’s hand lightly. “Yes, I am. M’quite gone for her. You raised an incredible woman, Ma’am.” He spoke earnestly.

“Excuse my shock, I just didn’t realize….” She trailed off, still seeming confused. “Y/N does like her secrets, it seems. You’re very handsome. What do you do?” It was likeher mother to be nosy, sniffing out why exactly the man was around her daughter. Y/N could see that she was suspicious and it hurt her because she knew exactly why she was.

She was making sure he wasn’t using her for another reason. For money or something else, because it was hard for her to believe a man as attractive as him would be with her for pure attraction and chemistry.

“I actually own the bakery across the street.” He said easily. “Thank you for the compliment. She’s an incredible woman, so welcoming and kind. Beautiful to boot.” He meant every word, tapping the tip of her nose. “I don’t want to interrupt, though… I brought the girls lunch.”

“Oh, it’s not trouble. I was coming because my daughter forgets she has a phone.” She shot her a look. “Why don’t you come to dinner next week with her? You’re more than welcome. Her father would be more than happy to meet you.”

“If it’s alright with Y/N, I will.” He nodded, showing his loyalty immediately. Harry wouldn’t do anything that made his girl uncomfortable and he was dedicated to the cause. He was already unsure about the woman, but the next words solidified it for him.

“Alright, whatever you decide. Just make sure she doesn’t have too many sweets from your bakery, hm? It’s starting to show again.” She was joking as if it was funny, patting her daughter’s hand before stepping back. “I hope to see you next week, Harry. Call me, Y/N, we have much to discuss.”

Her mother was swift, walking out the door as quickly as she had come in. As soon as she was gone, the energy calmed and her shoulders fell, groaning low in her throat as she moved to hide her face in Harry’s chest again. He knew better than to talk, instead stroking over her hair as he let her recover from that interaction.

Internally though, his view on her mother was soured. How dare she make a comment to not only her daughter about that, but to him? A man she was dating and obviously really liked her? Did she not realize how awful it was to comment on something like that? Y/N had told him that her relationship with her mother had been a weird one but he hadn’t expected her to say something cruel like that. It didn’t even seem to register that she was being mean, she genuinely seemed to think it was funny.

“I’m sorry about that.” She sighed, pulling back from his chest. “She’s… she’s a lot. I promise she isn’t all bad, but she’s got quirks.” Her face pulled in a slight grimace, making him smile sadly at her as he caressed her warm cheek.

“That wasn’t nice to say, but I have a feeling it isn’t something you want t’unpack in the middle of a work day.” It wasn’t something he felt could be properly discussed out here anyways. “We can talk about it tomorrow, if you want…but I just have to say this one thing.” His head dipped to get closer to hers. “I don’t mind if you gain or lose weight. I don’t care about that at all so long as you’re healthy and comfortable. I’ll never restrict you from eating, never make you feel as though you’re too much. I know you struggle with it, but I’m never going to contribute to that. I’m here to support you.”

His words were genuine, eyes shining as he told her his truth. She could feel it radiating off of him and it made her want to tear up, but he didn’t give her a chance to reply to that before he smacked a kiss to her nose and pulled back to open the paper bag that had been stapled shut. “But now I want you to tell me if I did a good job choosing your meal, please. I did the caramel coffee with oat milk, iced. I remembered that bit.”

Y/N wasn’t sure where the hell Harry had come from, but she was thankful for whoever had sent him. It seemed like she needed him now more than ever.

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katiexpunk · 4 months

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To Protect & Serve, Part 1 | Pairing officer!Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a small-town reporter, living a life dedicated solely to your work and the relentless pursuit of truth. It's all pretty routine, almost too easy, albeit exhausting. Little did you know that the one thing you could never have predicted was the arrival of Officer Joel Miller. Suddenly, your story takes an unexpected turn, writing itself in ways you could have only dreamt of as he shows you what it really means to protect and serve. Part 1 Summary: You spent all day in the newsroom again, only to wake up at midnight. Your drive home is anything but smooth. You end up on the side of the road, freezing and wet from the relentless rain, struggling to change your tire. You're about to give up hope, that is until Officer Joel Miller shows up to assist. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~5.1K Part 1 Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. Honestly, you should just expect that from me at this point (Katie Core Slow Burn™). Set in 1994 because I said so. Reader has no major physical descriptions. Joel is literally a cop in this -- so typical cop references (guns, badges, uniforms, bulletproof vests, radios, a Crown Vic cruiser, etc.). Reader has a Nokia brick phone. Reader is a reporter, so heavy on the news and reporter references (her story and what she is investigating will come in future parts). Sarah is alive and well in this and is into art. Reader has a bad day. Blown tire. Rain. Bad luck. Competency kink. Uniform kink. Bad dad jokes. Flirting. Joel and reader share a piece of cherry pie. Officer Joel Miller is a gentleman. Authors Note: Happy 2024! My first fic of the year. Minimally edited, sorry if there are typos. This series will eventually be VERY heavy on the smut, and on back story, and will slowly build up the world they both live in. You're in this one for the long haul with me, babes. Buckle up -- it's the law. ;)

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

January 1994

You blink your eyes open and groan, the aroma of stale coffee and the faint hint of ink lingers in your nostrils.

Your desk is strewn with stacks of notes, crumpled papers, and empty takeout cartons that bare the remnants of hurried meals consumed during your relentless pursuit of the truth.

Crime surely doesn’t stop for a proper lunch break, so why should you? It was your resolution this year to pack more healthy lunches, but here you are – not even three weeks into the New Year and already knee-deep in Pad Thai.

The soft glow from your desk lamp highlights the fatigue etched on your face as you rub your tired eyes. You check the strappy black watch on your wrist – just past midnight.

Another night of burning the midnight oil.

You stare at the computer screen, and the blinking cursor patiently waiting for you to pick up where you left off. You consider staying another hour, but think twice of it; sure that the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain on the windows in the newsroom would soothe you like a lullaby and you’d end up spending an all nighter in the newsroom. Again.

With a sigh, you gather the papers that have collected on your desk in masses as of late and stuff them into your briefcase in no real order. You know they’ll just end up fanned out on your desk tomorrow morning, anyway. You turn off the computer, and an audible mechanic sound of it powering down gives the impression that it’s grateful for the much-needed break as you are.

As you grab your coat and make your way to the exit, the newsroom seems to exhale, settling into a peaceful calm. The door behind you slams closed, and the distant echo of thunder snaps at the same time, causing you to jump a little at the sound. You really should lay off the caffeine. Navigating the dimly lit hallway, you reach the elevator, its soft chime signaling your descent to ground level. Each step feels heavy, your body pleading for rest.

Once in the elevator it hits you that you don’t have an umbrella.

Shit.

++++

You sprint to your silver sedan as fast as you can in the loafers you chose for the day. Cute and comfy enough, but not exactly ideal to relive your glory days on the track team. By the time you get to your car, you’re out of breath and soaked, your makeshift umbrella with your coat barely sparing you from the rain.

You slide into the worn driver's seat, and the familiar scent of aged leather and cigarette smoke surrounds you as you turn the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life. You blast the air, but turn it off once you realize how cold it is. You decide to wait until the car is warmed up, not wanting to turn into a popsicle in your wet blouse.

You sit in the parking lot for what feels like an hour, holding your hands under your armpits for warmth, before deciding the engine is warm enough to turn the heat back on. You place one hand behind the passenger seat headrest and look over your shoulder as you pull out of the parking lot.

The rain continues to cascade down, and your shitty windshield wipers struggle to keep up, giving a deafening squeak with each pass across the glass. Annoyed, you turn the radio dial up just enough to drown out the sound of the whirring blades with Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.

You try to focus on the poorly lit road ahead of you, the dashed white lines blurring behind the wall of water on your windshield as the downpour intensifies. Water congregates in small pools on the edges of the weathered road, occasionally splashing all the way up on the sides of the car, and under the tire wells.

A knot tightens in your stomach as the road becomes a murky blur, adding a layer of stress you most definitely don’t need right now. It’s nights like tonight that you wish you had actually gotten new tires, like you have meant to for the past four – okay, six – months. Your bald tires are barely hanging on like a thread. It’s really only a matter of time before –

Suddenly, a deafening pop echos through the car, startling you. The steering wheel transforms into a wild animal, one you struggle to wrangle back into submission. You grab the leather steering wheel with a death grip, and steer into the skid and pump your brakes, eventually managing to bring the car to a safe stop on the side of the road.

Your eyes fall closed as soon as the car is totally still. You lean back into the leather headrest and try to recenter yourself, level out the adrenaline pulsing through your veins. You silently kick yourself. Oh, they’ll be fine. I just drive to work and back, you reasoned with yourself, the guys at the shop are probably trying to get you to buy new tires before you even need them. Some shit-grinning, mansplaining mechanic sounds good right about now.

You reach into your briefcase for your Nokia, patting around the mix of papers for the device, but it’s nowhere to be found.

As if this night couldn’t get any worse.

Oh wait, it can. You’re at least three miles from anything. Most of the time you don’t mind living in a small town, but with the way tonight is going, you swear you’re gonna move East to some big city, live out your days with people on every corner, nary a cow or an empty road in sight.

But for right now, you’re on your own.

You’ve changed a tire before, sure. It was one of the first things your dad insisted you know how to do before getting your license. “If you’re gonna drive a vehicle, you gotta know how to take care of it, sweet pea,” he said. God, you hate it when he’s right.

Already drenched, you decide to lean into it, this time fully zipping up your coat for warmth, knowing it’s not going to really do much, but it’s better than nothing. You brace for impact as you open the car door and assess the damage – the back passenger side tire is shredded, and the vehicle leans at an awkward slant from the missing support.

You open the trunk and struggle to retrieve the spare tire, wiggling it out by the base. You roll it over to the blown tire and grab the rest of the necessary tools neatly packaged in a workbag.

As you work in the pouring rain, a chill seeping deep into your bones, you struggle to loosen one of the lug nuts. Your frustration only grows from the wet wrench that keeps slipping out of your hands. “Oh comeeeee on, you bastard,” you yell at the bolt, hoping it might somehow understand and decide to loosen. You pause, your breaths a little short and your fingers sore from your bruising grip. You give it one more go, letting out a loud groan as you put all of your strength into twisting the bolt to loosen it, but it’s a futile effort.

“Fuck!” you scream out, your hair tacked to your face, your knees and shins now muddy, your entire outfit drenched. You drop the wrench in your palms, and replace it with your forehead. You’re beginning to cry, when out of the peripheral of your vision, you see it – the flashing lights of a cop car rolling up behind your vehicle.

The beam of the headlights slightly blinds you as you watch a tall, broad man step out of the vehicle. You can’t really see his face, only his silhouette, but you feel your body warm by an entire degree when his voice, low and smooth, calls out.

“Having some car trouble here, ma’am?” he inquiries, a blend of professionalism and concern behind his tone. You blink up at him through wet lashes and watch as he strides closer to you. His heavy boots hit the pavement with a thud, and the raindrops bounce off the greased tops of them.

You scan him from the ground up; his fitted uniform pants, a duty belt with several accessories pinned to it, most notably the firearm holstered on his right hip; a bulletproof vest affixed tightly to his frame, a little bit of belly poking out between his belt and the edge of the vest. He’s clad in a warm puffy coat that seems to repeal the water still barreling down on the pair of you.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you scan past his badge, catching a glimpse of his nameplate that’s partially covered by his jacket. You continue up his firm neck, over the thin line of his lips, his aquiline nose, and pause once your gaze meets his. And whoa.

Even in the dark and the rain, you can tell he is dangerously handsome, which is saying something given his profession. His beard is threaded with lines of silver, and neatly kept. His skin is a little sun-weathered, but it gives him a warm look to him, one that you’d love nothing more than to dive into like a pool right about now. He has bold, deep brown eyes, ones that convey a mix of softness and a no nonsense demeanor. He has a commanding presence but somehow feels safe.

Still kneeling on the ground, you reflexively wrap your arms around your own body in an attempt to get warm. You’re positive you must look like a sad wet stray, all puppy dog eyes begging for help; helpless and alone.

“My u–uh, my, my tire blew out,” you stammer, your teeth clacking against one another as your whole body shakes. At least when you were dueling with the lug nut, you didn’t have to think about how cold you actually are right now. “Forgot phone, umbrella – bolt not loosening,” you try to continue, but your words aren’t really making much sense, too caught up in your body’s response to the frigid air. “Jesus, sweetheart. Gonna catch your death out here all wet like this. Come here, let me help you up,” he says as he offers you his large palm. You place yours into it and rise to stand, and even though his hands are just as exposed as yours, he radiates heat.

You sigh in relief as he guides you to the passenger side of his cruiser. He opens the door and encourages you inside, “watch your head now,” he cautions, as you sink down into the vinyl seat.

Water pools onto the floor beneath and you squeeze your own frame and try to ignore the sting of your cold appendages and your numb toes. He leans across you to turn the heat all the way up and he tilts the vents to face you. With him this close, you pick up the faint smell of coffee and spearmint gum. As he backs away, his eyes catch yours, and you don’t miss the way they flicker to your lips for a brief moment.

“Stay here,” he commands, before he’s rounding around to his trunk to grab something.

He returns with an oversized black sweater, a badge embroidered onto the breast of it. It’s a little damp from the short walk from the trunk back to your door, but certainly drier than any part of you. He also has a small towel in hand.

“Here, this should help you warm up a bit,” he says, and you greedily accept them. “I’ll see what I can do about that tire of yours” he offers, “can I have your keys, please?” he asks, and you reach into your pocket and hand them over to him. Before you can get in a word of thanks, the corner his lip lifts in a small smile and he’s nods before he shuts the passenger door and walks over to your car.

You hastily swap out your jacket and your damp blouse for the sweater and melt into the thick wool fibers of it, grateful for even the little bit of reprieve, even if the fabric is a little scratchy. You use the small towel to scrunch some of the water from your hair, dry your face, and clear the mud from your legs. Your bottom half is still drenched, but it’s considerably better than before.

With the hot air of the heater blasting on high, your skin slowly starts to warm and the goosebumps that once littered your body begin to recede. Now able to focus, you take in your surroundings.

There’s a thermos of what you can assume is coffee given the aroma in the car in the drivers side door. A blinking radio, mounted to the center of the dash, sits adjacent to the microphone next to it. To your back, the middle of the car is split with a cage, the back of the car looks cold and hard. There’s a series of switches next to the gear shift, the lights and sirens you assume. A lone chocolate Hostess cupcake sits in the center console cup holder, next to a pack of spearmint gum. Called it.

You bring your attention back to the windshield, watching the officer engage in the same battle you did with the wrench. You haven’t seen his arms, but given the general size of him, you wager he’s probably pretty fit, and yet – he struggles.

You’re not trying to stare, not really, but there’s something endearing about watching a man at work, not at all bothered by the fuss or annoyance around him, and if he is, he doesn’t show it. As he’s working with it, there’s another crack of thunder that causes you to jump, and the night sky illuminates with the strong strike of lightening for a brief moment.

You watch as he works at it for a few moments longer, before he himself eventually decides to give up. He makes quick work of putting everything back into the trunk of your car, and locks your doors before he does a little sprint back to the drivers side of his cruiser.

Once inside the car, he cards his fingers through his now soaking hair. He’s nearly as wet as you were, but he certainly wears it better than you, you think. You hand him the damp hand towel and he uses it to wipe off his hands.

“Sorry Darlin’, the bolts are on there pretty good. Couldn’t even get it to budge. Think you’re gonna have to call for a tow,” he says, his voice thick like honey.

“Ugh, I thought so. Thank you so much for trying, Officer –” you trail off, granting him the space to give you his name.

“Miller,” he adds, “at your service, ma’am” he concludes with a smile. He extends his large palm to you for the second time tonight. You return his kindness by extending yours and offering him your name. He holds it for a beat second longer than etiquette would say to, only breaking the grip once his attention navigates to the sight of you in his sweater.

He thinks about flirting with you, saying something along the lines of him having to cite you for looking too cute like this, but he thinks twice about it. He’s good at a lot of things, but his flirting is well out of practice. Instead, he says –

“You hungry? There’s this little cafe not too far from here – Jo, JoJo somethin’ or other,” he asks. You look at him and can’t help the little smile that curls on your lips.

“Joe’s Cafe,” you say, helping him out. He must be new here.

“That’s the one,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Hear they have the best cherry pie in the whole state, I’ve been meaning to check it out since I moved here. Beats waiting here in the rain for the tow,” he adds, trying to play it cool, but he thinks you might notice the eagerness in his voice anyway.

“Officer Miller, you’re really kind, but I’m sure you have better things to do than sit in a diner and keep me company while I wait for a tow,” you add. Your words don’t reflect it, but deep down you secretly hope he pushes further.

“Who said anything about me keeping you company? I gotta date with that pie, baby. Was on my way there when I ran into you. You’re just along for the ride,” he says with a confident wink. Okay, maybe he’s not totally out of practice.

“Oh great, a third wheel to a slice of a pie. Talk about a cherry on top of my night,” you say, a teasing tone behind your voice, a little too proud of your terrible joke, a little flustered by the fact that he called you baby.

He looks at you with a wide smile and shakes his head as he pulls out from behind your car, the wet gravel crunching under the tires as he does. You watch it disappear in the passenger side mirror.

“Names Joel,” by the way, he says, shifting his eyes from the road to glance at you.

“Joel,” you whisper, and the way his name rolls off your tongue is easy.

A little too easy. Warm and sweet, like the last bite of a cinnamon roll.

++++

On your way to the diner, you ask Joel to borrow his cell phone so you can call for a tow. The man on the other line sounds half awake when he answers, “Yeah? Ray’s Towing,” he says, a curt tone behind his voice. You tell him you need a tow, and Joel confidently tells you the mile marker your vehicle is parked closest to, and you relay it over the line to who you can only assume is Ray himself.

“You’re clear across town, not gonna be able to make it out to you tonight. Can swing by to pick it up in the morning, though,” he says. You try to protest, but it’s a pointless fight, you can already tell he’s not going to budge.

In the middle of your negotiation, Joel pulls up to the cafe and kills the engine as he waits for you to finish up. You notice the small crease in between his brows, now clearly visible under the illumination of the 24/7 red neon sign that hangs in the window. You don’t notice it right away, but the rain has eased up, now only coming down in a light mist. “Okay. Tomorrow then. Mile Marker 181, it’s a Silver Sedan – you can’t miss it. Tow it to Tess’ place, and I’ll meet you there,” you tell him. The man gives a gruff grunt of agreement, “8am,” he says, hanging up before you can get another word in.

You drop the phone from your ear, staring at it, slightly in disbelief. You look back at Joel, and hand the heavy brick back to him.

“He’s not gonna pick it up tonight, won’t come till tomorrow morning,” you say, and Joel senses the hint of concern behind your voice. “I don’t know how i’m gonna get to work tomorrow,” he says.

“I can take you,” he offers, a sincerity behind his voice.

“Joel, I can’t – that’s too much, no,” you respond, shaking your head side to side as you do.

“No really, it’s not a problem. My shift starts at 9, I can take you there on my way to the station,” he offers casually, reassuring; like this isn’t the second time he’s saved your ass and you’ve only known him for less than an hour.

You stare back at him, and you can tell from the way he looks at you, that he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“If you’re sure, then,” you say, a questioning tone behind your voice.

“‘M sure,” he responds confidently. “Now c’mon, don’t want my date to think I’m late,” he jokes and you let out a genuine laugh for what feels like the first time in a long time.

“Can’t have that,” you retort. You go to pull the handle on your door, but Joel stops you. “I got it,” he says, opening his and quickly maneuvering around the front of the car to your door, pulling it open for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you tell him. You attempt to compose yourself – trying not to think too hard about the fact that you must look like a hot mess right now – as you follow Joel to the entrance. He opens the door for you, because of course, he does.

“After you, darlin’,” he says.

++++

The soft hum of the cafe’s neon lights casts a warm glow on the worn checkered tablecloth as you sit in the booth across from one another. The waitress doesn’t even bother to ask, she can tell from one look that you’re both in desperate need of something warm to drink.

“Decaf or regular” she says, setting the mugs down on the table. “Decaf,” you and Joel both say at the same time. She fills filling them both with a long stream of hot black liquid from the carafe with the orange handle before she turns around to place the pot on the table behind her.

“You ready to order,” she asks, pulling the pen from behind her ear, steadying it over pad.

“Well I think we’re still waiting on one more,” you start to joke, your eyes locked on Joels as you lift the ceramic mug to your lips in an attempt to hide your smile. A warmth creeps up on your face as he gives you a stern look.

“Don’t listen to her,” he tells the waitress, “we’ll take a piece of cherry pie, please.”

“Mhmm,” the waitress nods, annoyed that she even took out her pen in the first place for such a small order. “That all?”

“And a side of vanilla ice cream,” you pipe up.

“Got it,” she says, before walking away, leaving you and Joel alone in the booth. Given the hour, you’re the only ones in the restaurant apart from the waitress and the chef in the back.

“Ice cream?” he asks, one of his eyebrows raised. “You were just freezing like 20 minutes ago,” he says, confused. He fidgets with the spoon that rests on the white paper napkin as he waits for you to respond. You wonder if you make him nervous.

“Yeah, vanilla ice cream. It’s a must with this pie,” you say, reaching across the table for the sugar. You rip it open and pour in the contents of the pink packet into the mug and stir, “especially for your first time…trust me,” you conclude, letting out a satisfied hum at the sweet black liquid that warms your insides.

“I trust you,” he says with a smile, his eyes trained on your face. Finally seeing him under normal lighting conditions permits you to notice the flecks of amber around his irises, but that’s not the only thing you notice. A heat swirls in your belly, and not just from the coffee, once you see the single dimple on his right cheek.

“So tell me, Joel, where are you from? Cuz you’re certainly not from around here,” you ask.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, leaning into your playful tone, nursing his own coffee.

“Well, for starters, you didn’t know the name of this place, and it’s like an institution in these parts. And to top it off, I’ve lived here my whole life. You can’t have been here long or I’m sure we would have met,” you say, a confident tone behind your voice, like it’s a matter of fact.

“That so? Why’s that?” he asks, not denying any of your initial assessment.

“I’m a reporter for the Tribune. It’s my job to know things, to know people, especially hot mystery cops who like to fix tires in the rain for random women on the side of the road,” you say.

“You think I’m hot?” He asks, a blush to his cheeks. And shit. Freudian slip.

“No, that’s no – that’s not, I mean, you are hot, but that’s not what I,” but before you can continue, you’re interrupted by the waitress placing a rather large piece of cherry pie in the middle of the table.

“‘S alright, Darlin.’ You think I’m hot, you can admit it,” he says, grabbing the spoon, dipping it into the thick red mess of cherry and crust, the colors diluting to pink with the melt of the vanilla ice cream.

He takes a big bite, and groans in delight, letting his eyes close as he savors the taste. “‘Sides, you’re not wrong. I haven’t been here for long. Just got here last month, moved here from Austin,” he says, already digging in for a second bite by the time you’re going for your first.

You look at him intently, patiently, waiting for him to continue in between bites, “My daughter, Sarah, got accepted into a young artists program here. ‘S all she talks about. And well, I was able to make a lateral transfer to this station from Austin, so it was a no-brainer, really,” he says.

“How old’s your daughter?” you ask, your spoon dancing with his for the sweet goodness for a second as you do.

“14 going on 25,” he jokes, “keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. Keep hoping she won’t start bringing boys around for another, oh I don’t know, 15 years or so, but I feel like that’s a battle ‘m set to lose,” he sighs, as he takes the second to last bite of pie, pushing the plate to you, his eyes telling you that the last bite is all yours.

You can’t help but smile at the thought of Joel, a man who faces more frightening things daily, nervous for his teenage daughter to go on a date. You scoop up the final bite of pie and swallow it. You keep the spoon in your mouth, running the cool metal of it over your tongue, relishing in the way Joel can't seem to look at anything but the way it moves over your plush lips.

“What about you then? Did you always want to be a reporter?” he asks, finishing off the rest of his coffee.

“Since I was a little girl,” you admit. "I used to eavesdrop on conversations at family gatherings, sneakily flip through my parents' old photo albums, imagining the tales behind each photo" you continue, your eyes flickering with a spark of that same childlike curiosity you had then. "And I had this little notepad where I'd jot down my observations, like a tiny detective with a pen and paper."

Joel Chuckles, "Sounds like you were a reporter-in-training from the start."

You nod, a soft laughter escaping you. "I suppose you could say that. I loved the idea of bringing untold stories to light, giving voices to the unheard. It felt like a calling even before I fully understood what it meant,” you conclude, running the pad of your finger over your now empty coffee cup. Transfixed, Joel watches the simple movement. And once again, the waitress with her impeccably terrible timing, interrupts once again, stopping Joel before he can continue with his questions. You immediately dart your hand out to grab the bill, and he does the same, but you are faster. His heavy palm lands on top of yours, and your eyes lock in charged silence. "Officer Miller, you've been a real help. Seriously, let me cover this one. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me tonight," you insist, your gratitude evident in your voice.

"It's just Joel, darlin'," he replies, releasing your hand to allow you to grab the bill. "And thank you," he adds, a sincerity laced behind his words.

With a decisive motion, you throw a twenty on the table, checking the time. "Getting late -- I should probably head home," you say, and Joel nods in agreement. However, inexplicably, you both linger, anchored to your seats. It's as if the sensible part of your brain urges departure, yet your bodies resist the inevitable parting. The cafe's ambiance seems to cocoon you both in a lingering warmth, the afterglow of the moment refusing to dissipate.

Joel stands up first, and you follow suit. His large hand finds the small of your back, and he guides you back to his cruiser. He opens the passenger for you again, but this time he doesn’t tell you to watch your head, you already know. You give him your address, and you both ride in comfortable silence.

Joel pulls up into your driveway, the engine purrs softly before falling silent. You both pause in silence. He turns to you, a smirk on his lips “We’re here,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of I don’t want to say goodbye yet behind it.

He walks you to your front door. The tension in the air is palpable as you both stand there, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a simple white business card, and hands it to you. You look down and see the words Officer Joel Miller printed on it in dull black ink, his badge number and phone number under it. There's an emboss of a police badge to the right of the text, giving your thumbs something pleasant to glide over.

“You know, I’m not sure driving reporters around is part of the oath to protect and serve,” you say.

“Means a lot more than you might think, Darlin’,” he responds.

You fiddle with the paper card in your hand, before offering him a kind smile.

“See you tomorrow, then,” you say sweetly, before pressing the door open.

“Tomorrow,” he nods before heading back down your porch.

Closing the door behind you, you lean your back against it, feeling the solid support. A smile, blooms on your face, radiating a joy that mirrors the first buds of spring. It’s been so long since you’ve felt an excitement about something that wasn’t work.

As Joel walks back to his cruiser, he too, can’t help the cheesy grin that washes across his face.

He likes to think of himself as an intuitive man. It’s part of what makes him a good cop, and part of what he thinks will make him an excellent detective one day.

And if there’s one thing he can tell for certain right now is that you’re going to be trouble – lots and lots of trouble.

And fuck, he hopes you are.

TO BE CONTINUED

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nicestgirlonline · 1 year

Text

sneaky

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Summary: You and Bucky decide to keep your new relationship a secret with somewhat disastrous results…

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Here’s my entry for @the-slumberparty week 2 challenge blast from the past! I don’t really have an old WIPs, I was trying to jumpstart my writing again with this sleepover. So here’s a little sequel to dumb dumb, since you guys really really seemed to like that one! Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome! <3

part 1

That Valentine's Day was possibly the best night of Bucky’s life. He had finally gotten to express everything he had been feeling for you. Friday night bled into Saturday morning, neither of you getting much sleep. The months of yearning and pining all finally erupted into passion, lust and love.

Saturday morning quickly became Saturday afternoon, with lots of pillow talk, telling each other little secrets about yourselves, sharing childhood stories. A simple Postmates order and quick text to Steve meant no one to bother you, and no reason for you to leave his bed.

Saturday night, or what Bucky was calling round two became Sunday morning and that brought about a little thing called the Sunday Scaries.

Amidst the bliss and happiness there was a lingering thought that kept bothering you. The two of you lounged in his bed, enjoying each other's quiet company, the moonlight of the early morning making the room glow blue.

You bit your lip. Time to rip the bandaid off. Real life was going to be starting too soon again.

“Bucky I’ve been thinking…about us.”

“Really? Me too.” He started to pepper your face with kisses. “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can have fun with my girlfriend.” You giggled as he started to tickle your sides. You wiggled your way out of his grasp. You propped yourself up on your forearms and did your best to put on your serious face. Which was very hard when Bucky was being so cute.

“I mean it! I’ve been thinking, maybe we should keep this private? For a while?” You tried your best to keep your voice soft, the face Bucky made broke your heart, which was what you were afraid of. He looked extremely scared.

“What’s wrong, what’d I do? Was girlfriend too soon? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, ” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close against him.

“No, no, you’re my boyfriend now.” You assured him. You took his face in your hands and he leaned into your palm in relief. “I am really excited to be with you but we do work together. And there’s HR and office gossip and I don’t want that to affect us when we are still figuring out us. I guess I’ve never really thought about the power imbalance between us.”

Bucky nodded albeit a bit reluctantly. He untangled his arms around you so you were both lying on your side looking at each other.

“I mean…I understand. You know I don’t really think of myself as a big superhero or something, but it is a ‘power imbalance’. Does it…bother you?” He asked scratching his face to avoid eye contact. You sat up, suddenly very confused.

“What are you talking about, I’m the scientist who’s studying you? I’m the one abusing my authority here. It's all very unethical!” You exclaimed.

“I don’t feel taken advantage of here, Doll. If anything, people are going to think I’m taking advantage of you.” Bucky chuckled.

“Why?”

“I’m a bit older than you. I’m sort of famous for not so great reasons. I’m also literally more powerful than you?” He held up his left arm as if to show you proof. You dismissed it with a hand wave.

“You don’t know that you’re more famous than me. I’ve been published in many academic journals.” You pointed out. Bucky shook his head. Gosh he liked you so much. He couldn’t even believe this was really happening to him half the time.

“There were weeks of press coverage for my trial.” You just rolled your eyes at that. Bucky was always so afraid that everyone saw him as a villain, but you’d never once felt any sort of danger from this sweet man.

“Well, agree to disagree. But I still think maybe for the first two months we should just keep it quiet. So we don’t have to worry about anyone but each other. Just lowkey.” He pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Yeah. You’re right, you’re totally right. We will keep things low key.”

“Hey Steve, uhhh we’ve got a problem.” Bucky rushed into the breakfast room, thankful that Steve was the only one there. Steve queried his eyebrow at his panic stricken best friend.

“What’s up Buck?” He asked. Bucky, seemingly slightly out of breath grabbed the side of the cabinets, he closed his eyes to try and get his

“So you know how I told you about…on Valentines Day…and then we…so the weekend was…” He waved his hand to emphasis his pauses and Steve nodded along.

“Of course, I’m happy for you two, Bucky!” He said brightly, of course this must be some sort of post confession bliss the two of them were in making his friend act so strange.

“Well that's just the thing. Did you…tell anybody else about it?” He asked, his voice a bit strangled and his tone grim.

“Uhhh was I not supposed to?” Steve asked, his face falling immediately.

“Can you answer my question?”

“I told Sam about it. The two of you have been dancing around it for so long that we’re all just a little excited for you.” Steve started to explain but he could practically see the fury radiating off of Bucky in waves. His signature death stare was fixed on him.

“Look, I really appreciate the um, support for my relationship. But here’s the thing, she doesn’t want anyone to know we’re dating.” He ground out, his teeth still clenched. “So we are going to be low. key.”

“Look who it is. We were about to put out a missing person alert .” Natasha had slunk her way into the breakfast room, her voice dripping with self satisfied condescension. “Getting provisions for the love nest?”

“God damn it, you told her too?” He cried out. She shrugged, innocently looking away. Bucky grabbed his head, he was going to throttle Steve.

“Oh come on, Y/N loves Nat. I figured she already knew.” Steve held his hands up in surrender, the captain certainly hadn't thought this was how his morning was going to go. Bucky turned his attention back to the super spy who was a bit too pleased with the unfolding drama.

“Nat, did you tell anyone about this?”

“Please, I’m a spy. I don’t just go around giving out important gossip with nothing to gain.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Romanoff!” He snapped back.

“I’m still a bit confused why she doesn’t want anybody to know? Is that a modern dating thing, not telling people you’re dating?” Steve asked. It didn’t make much sense to him, what exactly did she think was going to happen if people found out?

“She just doesn’t want the gossip and the pressure of everyone knowing about us to color the beginning of our relationship.” Bucky explained but his tone belated his true feelings. He absolutely did not want to keep this a secret. “So I told her I wasn’t going to tell anybody but I forgot I already told the biggest blabbermouth on the team.” He quickly turned back to anger at his teammates.

“I’m not the biggest blabbermouth…hm crap wait I forgot, Clint knows too.” Steve closed his eyes, wincing, ready for the smack upside the head he sorely deserved.

“Loose lips sink ships asshole! ” Bucky was exasperated.

“I didn’t know this was top secret information!” Steve countered.

Nat stayed at the breakfast bar watching the two super soldiers argue, it was amusing but she had her limits. She had to intervene before Bucky had an aneurysm.

“It's not so bad, we can do damage control. Tell Sam and Clint to keep quiet about it.” Nat said before taking a sip of her coffee. “And Wanda.”

“AND WANDA--” Steve looped an arm around Bucky’s waist before he could lunge at Natasha.

Bucky Barnes: Hello Sam, I am texting to inform you that Y/N and I are NOT DATING and please disbelieve the rumors to the contrary. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: please learn to text like a normal person

Sam Wilson: You know I saw you making out with her in the elevator on Friday right?

Bucky Barnes is typing…

Bucky Barnes: Sam, please disregard my previous message and meet me in the training gym on level 5 ASAP. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: You don't have to sign your name I know it's you

Sam Wilson: forget it

Sam Wilson: yeah I’ll be there

X Something wasn’t quite right. Your love life had never been better, Bucky was an amazing boyfriend, it was all you could do to not spend all of your time with him. The two of you would meet up after work hours and spend blissful hours back in Bucky’s apartment. But the rest of your work life, well it was starting to feel like people were avoiding you.

Like the other day at lunch, you were sitting across from Bucky which wasn’t too unusual, you had been friends before you were seeing each other. The very tips of your shoes were touching, a special little secret way of holding hands. The two of you were discussing movies that were coming out, a totally neutral non flirty conversation. But then Steve walked in, looked at you then immediately spun on his heel and walked away. You furrowed your brow. That was a bit weird.

Or when you had bumped into Bucky at the gym on level 5. It had actually been a happy coincidence, you decided to do some yoga as you sorely needed to stretch your body out after being hunched over a microscope all day. Bucky had been working out with Sam, Bucky lifting weights with Sam on the treadmill. You waved to the two of them and made your way over to say hi and Sam without saying a word jumped off the treadmill and started to jog out of the gym.

Even Nat, which hurt the most, flaked on the movie night you’d wanted to have in the TV room. Then it was the domino effect, Steve dropped out then Wanda and Vis dropped out too and soon it was just You and Bucky.

“Oh nooo. What are we gonna do, watch the movie by ourselves? Just the two of us?” Bucky whispered in your ear as you were pouring popcorn into a large bowl. He grabbed you by the hips and waggled his eyebrows at you. You let out a little sigh and snatched the bowl before heading to the TV room. You weren’t in the mood to flirt with him. The tv room was ready for what you had thought would be a big group. The lights were already dimmed and there were plenty of blankets and pillows around.

You and Bucky settled next to each other on the couch. He grabbed a big fuzzy blue blanket and draped it over the two of your legs. He gave your leg a little squeeze beneath the blanket and winked. You just let out a sigh and grabbed the remote to fire up the Roku. Bucky frowned, this was certainly not what he thought their movie night would be like!

“What’s wrong Bambi? You seem down.” He asked, concerned. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his body. You let him cuddle you, resting your head on his chest

“It just feels like all of our friends are avoiding me. I mean I thought we were friends. Co-workers I guess, you know I’m not great at reading people.” You sighed and buried your face in his chest. Had you grown more annoying these past few weeks ? He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking up at him.

“Honey, you’re great at reading people, don’t let your insecurity tell you otherwise. I’m not really a people person anyway so I was excited that it was going to be just us. Nobody’s avoiding you I promise. Want to just reschedule this night?” He offered.

You shook your head. Rescheduling wouldn’t make you feel any better. Besides it was nice to be able to spend time with Bucky out in the open like this. You still felt like your friends were all acting weird, but you trusted Bucky enough that you decided to let it go.

“Well since it’s just you and me, we still have to watch The Princess Bride.” You relaxed into the couch, already pulling it up on the screen.

“Sounds perfect.”

You were working away in the lab, it was a little past lunch time but you simply couldn’t stop in the middle of your project. You could push yourself just a little bit and finish this in time to actually leave at a normal time tonight. You had a date tonight. You smiled to yourself. A secret date.

You were deep in the process, so much so that you didn’t even notice the secret date, arriving hours early in the lab. He gave your sides a squeeze making you yelp. You spun around to see your smirking boyfriend.

“Bucky! Um, what are you doing here!” you asked, trying not to sound too excited.

“I'm here to help you out with those samples you had requested from me.” He projected his voice around the lab. But it was for the benefit of no one, you were the only two there. You smiled, happily playing along.

“Oh right! Those samples I requested.”

“Those spit samples.” He grabbed the back of your head and crushed his lips to yours in a sloppy wet kiss. You slapped his chest as you pulled away from him giggling.

“Ew! Bucky, that's so gross, why would you say it like that!” But you couldn’t stop giggling. He smiled, clearly feeding off the laughter.

“You’re the one who wants us to have this clandestine affair, I’m just trying to keep up appearances.”

“"Why are you even here? You’re a little early.”

“It's my lunch break and I wanted to say hi and give you a kiss.” He took one of your hands in his. You reached out and grabbed his vibranium hand as well so you were holding both. It made his heart flutter, how unperturbed by his arm you were. When he was with you it was like he was just a normal guy.

“Hi.” He murmured, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Hi.” you breathed back. This time when your lips met it was sweet and soft. He slowly moved his lips against yours, you opened your mouth just slightly enough that his tongue could slip inside and ---

“So I’m pretty sure the Erskine notes were in here.” It was Bruce! Bucky felt a sudden rush of fear. Bruce wasn’t one of the inner circle who would just pretend not to notice their closeness. They could actually get caught!

You quickly as hard as you could pushed Bucky away and he clamored backwards. You wiped your mouth, hoping somehow that would disguise yourself. Bruce poked his head in.

“Just looking for the Erskine notes. Uh, everything ok in here?” He took stock of each of you, freshly shoved apart.

“Yeah, just leaving!” Bucky cried as he raced out of the lab.

“I’m indifferent to him leaving! I’ll go grab the notes for you Dr. Banner!” You raced to the file cabinet not looking at anything but the ground.

Bruce cocked his head at the strange interaction he just encountered.

“Good morning Bucky!” You greeted cheerfully as he entered the breakfast room in the morning, Steve and Sam in tow. “Morning Steve! Morning Sam!” You quickly added as they filed in. As not to raise suspicion.

“I get a good morning? Wow. Don’t I feel special.” Sam said with a smirk.

“I say good morning to everyone. I’m just a morning person like that. How are you doing Sam? I feel like you’ve been so busy, I barely even see you these days.” You asked, trying to sound casual. You still felt like everyone was acting so weird around you.

“Oh you know, mission after mission. None of them were in Hawaii either, it's all been Nepal, Siberia, whatever frozen wasteland they can dump me in.” He sat down next to you. You nodded along as he continued talking about his missions, eager to connect with your friend again.

“Good morning troops. Ah and good morning Beaker. Didn’t think I’d see you this early on a Monday.” Tony Stark, sunglasses still on, his closes wrinkled like he’d just come in off a jet. It had been awhile since he was on at the Compound.

You hoped you weren’t blushing at the comment. Bucky had talked you into another Sunday night sleepover, you were trying to be subtle about it but you were a morning person, it didn't make sense to pretend to show up later.

‘I didn’t think I’d see you at all Mr. Stark. It's been awhile, since you’ve hunkered down with us mole people in the lab.” You always had a professional but good natured relationship with Tony. He was your boss after all, which is why you found it a little weird to call him Tony.

Tony let out a chuckle and started to make science small talk, about the lab and the projects you’d been working on.

Bucky and Tony were not great friends. They had buried the hatchet, sure, but it wasn’t like the two drank beer and watched the game together. Cordial coworkers are best.

Except Bucky didn't feel very cordial with Tony right now. Considering he had taken the only open seat next to you. He gruffly sat down at the table next to them with his coffee.

You wanted to invite Bucky to come sit with you, or go over to his table, but that would probably be a bit too much for just friends. You peered over Tony’s shoulder to your grumpy boyfriend darkly having breakfast. You tried not to make it too obvious and still listen to his anecdote about building a mini laser.

The two of your eyes would catch more often than not. Quickly turning back to whatever they were doing. Tony picked up on this immediately, he looked over his shoulder

“What do you keep looking at?” He spun around to look directly at Bucky who was frozen in place. “What’s going on here? Are you two fucking or something?”

It was like everything happened all at once.

“Tony -- out of line.” “Uh HR?” “No no no you misunderstand.” “Which one of you told Tony?”

Everyone burst into action, all speaking over each other. Wait what? You swung your head from pleading with Tony to your secret boyfriend. The three soldiers froze. Sam took a deep breath.

“I’ve had enough of this! Nobody told Tony. You two idiots are just so obvious that anyone could see it.” Sam said. As soon as he did Steve let out a huge sigh of relief, his shoulders rolling forward like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“I won’t have this, no way, not on my watch. Y/N. My beloved employee. With Mancurian Candidate? Under my nose, in my own lab?” Tony said indignantly, putting his hand over his heart as if he was scandalized.

“Tony! That’s really not very funny. You shouldn’t call him that.” You said your face a hard frown. and Bucky felt his heart burst with happiness. But then your gaze turned to him and he felt your icy stare.

“I--I can explain. You see I had actually texted Steve before we decided to be lowkey. It was before so really if you think about it. I didn’t do anything wrong. And Steve and his big mouth told a few people. But it’s just the people in this room. And Nat. And Clint. And Wanda. But that’s all.” Bucky tried to explain to you as best he could. His eyes were pleading, he felt weak in the knees. You remained silent, your arms crossed.

“Yikes, you’re in troooouble.” Tony taunted.

“So basically everyone! Everyone I see on a daily basis. I can’t believe this. So they’ve all known the whole time?” You looked at Sam and Steve who both sheepishly nodded. You turned back to Bucky, you let out a shaky breath. People knew, and nothing bad had happened. Your friends had actually gone out of their way so you two could have some privacy. “Well I guess there's no point in keeping this up then.”

“Hm?”

“I'm having breakfast with my boyfriend now, so if you don’t mind gentlemen.” You grabbed your breakfast bowl and moved your chair so you were sitting next to Bucky. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your lap.

“Ugh, I'm nauseous you two are so fucking cute. Guess that’s my cue. Come on, Commandos, take a hint.” Tony got up signaling to the other two who also rushed out of the room, more than happy to get out of the tense atmosphere. Once you were completely alone, you finally spoke.

“I can’t believe everyone knows. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Bucky let out a deep sigh.

“I mean I kept it a secret from some people. Tony being one of them. I just…I wanted to give you what you wanted. But I mean to be completely honest I did want to tell everyone. I’m all in.”

“I’m all in too!” You cried clutching his hand and kissing his knuckles. “That's why I wanted to try and slow things down so I couldn’t mess anything up. Now it just all seems so silly. I tried so hard to be sneaky too!”

He took his hand off yours and gave your thigh a squeeze.

“I mean…we can still sneak around sometimes. If you want. ” He had a playful glint in his eyes. “I mean, I had plans, Doll, a lot of plans. I was fully prepared to take you on every inch of that lab table.”

“Sergeant Barnes! ” You gasped. “I think we may be a bit too loud for that level of sneakiness.” He took your chin in his hand and rubbed his thumb down your lip.

“I’m sure we can find a way to keep you quiet.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky fanfic #navy and roo's sleepover #bucky barnes #idiots to lovers #fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #winter solider #friday night posting baby #fanfiction

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cloverdaisies · 6 months

Text

☆*:.｡. PIECE OF STRING

☆*:.｡. a kim sunwoo imagine @:cloverdaisies

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*

description: dear sunwoo, autumn nights are always better when they’re spent with you. please don’t hide yourself, you know you’re safe with me.

member: sunwoo x you

a/n: this is a request for the lovely @from-izzy ! i loved writing this and wanted it to feel like a place of safety for you ! it’s only very short but as always my limited spare time is spent doing what i love - & that’s writing, especially for such sweet people like you <3

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

There was a cute thing Kim Sunwoo did every time he got a bit shy, he’d pull the strings on his hoodie and make sure the entirety of his face had been engulfed in the fleece - just so the world couldn’t see him for a second.

You’d noticed those little things about him and wondered where he picked up that habit, he was your best friend after all so why not ask? Since every time you saw him he seemed to be drowning in the material of a hoodie no matter the season. It could be the hottest day of summer and yet still he protected himself with the comfort of a black hoodie at least 2-3 sizes above what he was.

The nights had drew in colder and darker, the trees had lost their leaves and the ground was littered in pale orange and brown leaves you kicked around with your boots as you walked up the street.

It was only 6pm and when night had taken over and it was the same time you’d go to meet sunwoo to escape the world for just a second.

“Hey.” You smiled as you heard that honey sweet voice fill your ears for the first time that day, as you saw Sunwoo wrapped in his grey hoodie, disheveled hair decorated with the prettiest grin you’d ever seen.

“Hi.” You replied as you both began to walk through the park, where sun was between setting over the horizon and the city was overlooked below, all the lights shining as ruby red and pearl white orbs in the distance.

“It’s colder than I thought it would be tonight.” You sighed as you found your classic spot between a few sparse trees laying out the blanket you both sat on every night, crossing your legs and talking about whatever you both thought put the world to right.

“That’s your fault for wearing a cardigan.” Sunwoo laughed, poking fun at your attire with that stupid smirk on his face that you just wish you could legally slap off his silly face.

“It literally was warm earlier.” You laughed and let out a relieved sigh, as your best friend’s presence just seemed to make everything bad just go away. “How are you anyway?”

“Me?” Sunwoo pointed to himself as if there was anyone else around that you could be talking to. “I’m better these days, still stressed but I guess you’re here now, so I can’t be happier.”

“That’s good, it makes me happy that you’re happy.” You smiled as he passed you an earphone, a sweet melody playing through the minuscule speakers.

The glowing moon overlooked you both through the trees, and the feelings of safety seemed to immediately wash over you - as without your acknowledgment his gaze scanned every detail of your face.

Moments like this were always the sweetest, half of the time there was no conversation, there was only a comfortable silence, where you both enjoyed the company of each other and the night. It was strange really, how the both of you just collided that way. The birds chirping in the distance, the feeling of warmth that radiated from the both of you, the safety from the nightmare of the world.

“Sunwoo?” You asked, listening to him hum in reply before you could let the curiosity get the better of you to ask. “Only reply if you feel comfortable to do so and sorry if this is a bit of an invasive question but why do you always wear hoodies? Even in the summer?”

He looked down at you for a moment, a bittersweet smile painting the features of his face, his eyes glossed like stars in a night sky, as he saw that you’d began to shiver in the cold night.

“Before I answer that, can I?” He asked opening his arms invitingly with a pinch of hesitation in his words. You smiled and nodded, leaning closer into his touch, his palm resting on your waist comfortably. Affection wasn’t peculiar between the both of you either, considering you were both single and no romance had been considered. “I wear the hoodies because I guess I don’t like the way I look without them, they make me feel like I have some sort of comfort barrier between me and the world you know?”

“What do you mean you don’t like the way you look without them? Sunwoo you’re gorgeous.” You pulled your head away from the warmth of his chest for a moment and looked at him with a puzzled look of horror.

“Uh I mean- Sorry, I’m not. I mean I would have the world in my hands if I was.” He sighed slightly, the air escaping his lips expressing some sort of disappointment with himself. His ears tinting red, as he struggled to conceal the smile that broke through his emotional defense barrier.

“What do you mean by that?” You asked residing back into the warm feeling of his chest as you felt his spine stiffen in panic.

“I guess everyone has their different version of the world, for some people their world is work, for others their world is their family and for people like me their world is the person they love.” He looked up at the sky thoughtfully, choosing his words with a careful tongue.

“I’m sure whoever it is, they’re lucky you think that.” You smiled, feeling a spear of pain impale through your lovely heart. Thoughts secretly ravaging your brain, did you love him? Are you jealous his attention lies elsewhere? Were you afraid of abandonment?

“Theoretically, imagine that person is you, what would you think? Is that too cringe, like I know I’m not the most loveab-” He began to spurt nonsense that made your brain spin in confusion or more disbelief.

“Sunwoo, if I was that person. I would think it was the most romantic, sweetest thing anyone had ever thought of me.” You pulled away from his touch, feeling slightly embarrassed you were so close to someone, who was about to break your heart.

“Okay, well it’s you.” He spoke nonchalantly, not really batting an eye to what he’d just said despite you feeling probably the most embarrassed and shy you’d ever felt.

Without anymore thoughts, you looked up to the brunette boy beside you and stared into his deep brown eyes with sincerity.

“You mean that?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in a smitten way, praying to anything above that he’d say yes.

“Of course I do.” He whispered lowly, brushing your hair behind your ear and tracing his finger across your jaw delicately.

He brought his lips closer to yours and sealed a kiss that made the night sky sway and the stars pirouette like ballerinas on a dark stage. Destiny had rewritten itself in the most blissful way, as like the world, everyone thought of destiny differently - for you both, it lied with each other.

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nmn-yty · 12 days

Text

— ๋࣭ ⭑࿐ spring basking ｡o♡⋆˚｡⋆.

pairing: park sungho x reader

summary: taking care of your needy kitty sungho

tags: 「SFW! fluff! | hybrid!sungho | park sungho literally the definition of a cat | cute cat cuddles | reader has no gender!」

word count: 0.8k

a/n: more fluff!!! might just write abt all the members at this point (im the best onedoor ever). this is rlly short bc it was just an idea that came into my mind quickly and i didn't want to make it too long. also ive been writing some smut ideas but im not sure if i will release them bc smut is a little controversial from what ive seen around. anyways i hope you enjoy! also i hope writing abt hybrids isn't weird><

+ stylized lowercase, missing punctuation (not done on purpose), and minimal to no revisions

he always ran up to the windowsill to bask in the sun when the light shined in. typical for a cat, he's been doing it a lot as the spring season approached. you always had the windows propped open slightly to let some fresh air in. the breeze would ruffle sungho's long brown fur while he dozed off to the birds chirping in the distance.

you walk downstairs to find him there by the window. today was extra sunny so the rays shined down on him vibrantly. his fur was almost a bright orange from the light.

"lazy kitty." you sat on the empty space next to him. his small cat body was moving up and down at a slow pace, he always seems to sleep in the sun.

you reached out to pet his back. his body twitched slightly but he was still fast asleep. you kept petting him and you could start to hear small purrs coming from him, he was waking up. one tiny movement from his head and he realized you were finally beside him. he stands up quickly and jumps into your lap.

you flinched in fear, in a second he turned into his hybrid form, his cat ears spawned out from his hair to twitch and touch your stomach. his head now rests in your lap while he has one leg perched up on the sill and one hanging off. his tail sways slowly, the tip curling from time to time.

"i told you not to do that!" you lightly scolded him. he couldn't help but transform in your presence. it's always better for the both of you to talk this way. you also got to feel like the cat when he transforms, as he engulfs your body whenever you two hug. you found it quite interesting that there was a little power imbalance in your relationship. whenever sungho is in his cat form, he can't fully express how he feels. he's limited to being a cute cozy cat, but any reciprocation at any form makes the both of you happy.

"sorry," he chuckled between syllables. he couldn't help but stare up at your face. he was begging to get more pets from you. he balled up his fists and moved them next to his cheeks, imitating paws. while in his hybrid form he loves to make you flustered at any moment. he wiggles his ear more closely to your stomach. his eyes are glowing, his pupils dilated. youve been down this road before, and you already knew not to resist. you pet his head gently, swiping his bangs to get a full view of his face. you start to play with his cat ears, scratching behind them making sungho start to purr again.

he shuts his eyes and flashes his contagious smile, "i really love spring when im with you."

you couldn't help but lean down and give him a quick kiss on his forehead. his tail started to sway happily. you loved when sungho could tell you how he's feeling. he sometimes hid away while being in his cat form. moments like these where you can make him happy were the ones you looked forward to the most.

"so you dont love me during the other seasons?" you felt a bit offended. spring can be a bit harsh at times, but each season has its pros and cons.

"no i do!" he sounded panicked at first, "i just love when i can feel the sun against my fur again, and when you sneak up on me while im sleeping."

"i love it too, i know spring is finally here when i catch you being lazy by our window."

that word made him narrow his eyes.

"youre mean," he said in a sulky tone. he got up from your lap and jumped off the sill, turning back into a cat in a flash. he quickly ran through the house up the stairs.

"hey, slow down! im sorry! come back i was just kidding!" chasing after a cat that was asleep just a few seconds ago seemed like it would be easy. sungho just loves to show off and take the upper hand.

you reached the top of the stairs trying to figure out which room he couldve gone into. your first thought was to check your room, and he didn't do a good job at avoiding you because he was in plain sight, laying on his back on your bed.

"meow!" he was waiting for you to give him attention all of a sudden.

"look who's the mean one now, hiding away in your cat form," you say while rubbing his belly. he shuts his eyes and purrs start to rise out of him again. you just have to wait for him to want to transform again, to know his true thoughts.

#boynextdoor #bnd #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #bnd fluff #bnd x reader #bnd imagines #park sungho #park sungho fluff #park sungho x reader #park sungho imagines #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #cat sungho ftw #hybrid #hybrid fluff

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pandoa · 1 year

Text

a twisted christmas

the first years surprise a homesick prefect with a recreation of their favorite holiday from their world. well, try to, at least. chaos ensues with the first years at ramshackle, but it’s the thought that truly counts, correct?

feat. ace trappola, deuce spade, jack howl, epel felmier, sebek zigvolt, and grim twst first years x platonic!gender neutral reader

a christmas special for you all! just first year shenanigans for this one! and very slight cursing lol merry christmas, my loves, and happy holidays <3

“Speed it up, will ya’? They’re literally almost here!”

“Oh, I’d love ta’, Captain Obvious, but I’m currently trying ta’ haul a FREAKING TREE INTO THIS DOOR—”

Amongst the chattering walls of NRC’s beloved Ramshackle dorm, shuffling and bustling sounds of a certain group of first years was heard throughout the campus’s premises. It was quite a busy day for them all, and no student was left without a task at hand. Trees were in need of decorating, cakes were in need of icing, presents were in need of wrapping—even the dorm itself required a great amount of assistance as the first years’ had only increased their workload as more chaos erupted within the antique walls of the prefect’s dorm. The young men had no ill intent, however, numerous miscommunications among them all had accumulated into the incessant shouting and bickering of the first years as the concept of teamwork within the five of them had only become a distant dream as more damages to the dorm room had been made.

“Get Sebek to help you then!” Ace’s already peeved voice pointed towards his rather petite classmate, Epel Felmier, as he watched the boy yank at a small—but still larger than him—apple tree into the dark doorway of the room’s main entrance. Where Epel managed to find a whole tree on such short notice, Ace would never know. It’s better not to question these kinds of things, you know? The playful red-head had assigned Epel this task, and to be fair, as long as they had some sort of tree in the room, Ace really couldn’t care less. Whatever gets the job done, he thought.

“He’s too busy trying to pipe icing onto the cake in the kitchen,” Epel replied as a matter-of-factly, referring to the Diasomnia student who was currently battling with confections to neatly spread the airy frosting onto a cake.

A booming voice that could send rumbles throughout the whole school was then heard from the dorm’s kitchen area, “I CAN DO THIS ON MY OWN, HUMAN—”

“See?”

“Argh.. uh, okay,” Ace sighed in defeat, “Get Jack to help once he’s done adding decorations to the stairway.”

“Gotcha.”

Shaking off his slight worry, Ace then made his way to the dark-haired Heartslabyul resident who was supposedly hanging strings of lights throughout the dorm to illuminate the rooms in an incandescent glow. Although, what he saw when he approached the clueless man left Ace struggling for air as his laughter took all of his capability to breathe at that moment. Sevens, he would surely take this opportunity to embarrass Deuce in the future.

“Deuce,” Ace began as he suppressed a robust giggle at his friend’s odd predicament, “What are you doing tangled up in the lights—?” The young boy couldn’t bring himself to hold it in anymore; this moment was just too perfect. Wires and miniature bulbs alike were draped over Deuce’s figure in an entangled mess, leaving the blue-haired boy to be entirely constrained by the rope-like lights. It seemed like they were decorating him instead of the prefect’s dorm.

“I was trying to…hang them up.”

“Hang them up on the walls or hang them up on yourself?” Ace teasingly smirked.

“Oh yeah?” Deuce retorted, questioning the efforts Ace had made in comparison to the amount of work the others had already done compared to him, “Well, what have you been doing to help out around here, Ace?”

“I got dressed,” the playful red-head smiled as he pointed towards the crimson, velvet suit he had put on earlier that day, feigning innocence. With all of the stories you had told them all about the traditions in your world, Ace and the rest of the first years had wasted no time in nonchalantly gaining information on this strange, but admittedly fun, holiday. And out of the information Ace had learned included a magical visit from an odd man wearing a red suit—a suit he attempted in recreating to “make the prefect’s dreams come true” because seriously. There was no way Ace would be stuck with the harder labor within the first years' plans. So, he decided to dress as this mysterious “jolly” man as a contribution to (Y/n)’s good spirits. Oh, and he also got to make all of his friends wear stupid outfits to match his too. It was a win-win.

“Here, when you’re out of there, put this on,” Ace tossed peculiar pieces of red and green clothes in Deuce’s way as Deuce struggled to catch it, seemingly forgetting he had been tied up by incredible knots of string lights. The fabric then dropped to the ground with a resounding thud on the creaking floors of the room as the blue-haired young man pointed an unknowing stare towards it.

Looking up to his friend in confusion, Deuce curiously asked, “What is it?”

“It’s an elf costume.”

“HUH?!” Deuce deadpanned at the cheap-looking outfit set before him, “Why an elf costume of all things?”

“Because Sebek and Jack are already wearing reindeer outfits, I am wearing this jolly old man suit, and you are wearing this elf costume. Why?” Ace asked as he continued to poke fun at the dark-haired boy in front of him, “Scared of a little outfit, Deuce?”

“What are you even talking about, Ace, of course not—”

“Good!” the red-head then hastily replied, “Because Epel’s gonna join you in wearing these super cool elf outfits too—”

“I’M WHAT???” a shrill holler coming from the dorm’s main lounge then pierced the ears of the Adeuce duo as familiar lavender locks approached the two of them in an instant. Fury radiated from the petite stature, his cheeks a slight tint of red from anger, his irritation rivaling the blazing fire of the fireplace a couple steps away from him, all while the boy’s very composure dissipated as a thick accent began to peek out of the first year’s once elegant voice. “Ah’ am nuh’ puttin’ that on—” Epel said as he gave the odd outfit a putrid glare.

“Yes, you are~” Ace began to say with mischievous intent, “C’mon~, you’ll look so ador—”

“DON’T even say it.”

“Adora—”

“Ace.”

“Adorable,” the ginger-haired boy said with incredible speed to avoid the inevitable objections of his Pomefiore friend and practically ran to make his way out of the dorm’s lounge, on his way to where their beastman companion had been. Almost out of breath, Ace jogged up to the wolf-like man who was, at the moment, entwining royal green branches around the dorm’s stairwells and extensive hallways.

“Wow,” Ace began catching his breath, gawking at the work that was surprisingly done well, “you actually did a really good job at this, Jack.”

“Well, for one, I don’t slack off and push the work onto other people, Ace,” Jack replied with a hint of bitterness towards the Heartslabyul first year, “And also, I actually work hard in the tasks people give me.”

The red-head in question then feigned sadness as he clutched the area on his chest where his heart would be, “Ouch, you wound me, Jack.”

“CHOP CHOP, SLOWPOKES! (Y/N)’S COMING—”

Suddenly, a familiar raspy holler that could only belong to none other than Grim interrupted Ace’s conversation with Jack as the feline shouted across Ramshackle, bringing all five of the first years to a tremendous panic as they scrambled throughout the creaking rooms of the dorm. Last minute decorations were added to the dancing fireplace, wrapping paper was messily flung above the first years’ heads, final touches to the cake were made, tinsel was thrown onto their tree like confetti, and the last of the lights had been hung over the lounge’s fireplace. The jittery group of friends had been skipping all over the place, with their bickering a constant throughout the time.

“What?! Grim, I thought we told you to keep them outta here—”

“I tried!” the exasperated cat whined at Ace, “but they were getting too suspicious of me when I kept on stoppin’ them from going to Ramshackle!” The group of first years then sighed at this; they would have to make do with what they had prepared now.

“Epel, come back here!” Deuce yelled from the top of the dorm’s stairs, “You still have to put this hat on!”

“I put on the outfit, but I am NOT wearing that hat—!”

“But—”

“No!”

Ace, although very amused, gaped at the havoc before him. Deuce had been running after a feral Epel, Grim had found his way towards the shining presents under the tree—aggressively rattling each one to guess what had been inside—, and Sebek had been seen still struggling to ice small little swirls onto the cake. Jack was probably somewhere away from all of the disorder, but still. This whole ordeal was absolutely uncontrollable.

“I MUST REQUIRE SOME ASSISTANCE—” Sebek shouted as he approached where Ace, Deuce, and Epel had been, with his hands, head, hair, and clothes covered in multitudes of colorful frosting, “I BELIEVE THE PIPING BAG WAS FAR TOO WEAK TO FUNCTION PROPERLY.”

Epel stopped in his tracks as he deadpanned at the Diasomnia boy, “No, I think you just squeezed the bag too hard and it exploded on you while icing the cake.”

“Same prospect!!”

The yelling then continued as they all attempted to neatly mend the mess they all had made. Epel, who had dejectedly taken the hat Deuce had been pushing him to wear, tried to help Sebek in cleaning up the disaster he caused in the kitchen, Deuce pried Grim away from the ornaments of the tree, Jack was seen picking up stray tree branches off of the ground, as Ace also tried to help everyone out with—

“Uh, guys?” a wary figure who was heard walking up to Ramshackle’s doorway spoke with confusion as they processed what had been taking place at their dorm, “What’s going on—?”

“Merry Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas!”

“An above average holiday to you, human!!”

“Merry Christmas, (Y/n).”

“Merry… Thanksgiving…?”

“Yada yada, merry Christmas, henchman!”

Various voices of your friends said in unison as they all halted in their steps and stopped to greet you in your arrival back home. You peered at the festive—although quite messy—sight before you, “Wha..what is all of this?”

Epel shot you a bright smile as you continued to venture throughout the room, “We’re celebrating Christmas! Just like in your world!”

You felt your heart soften at your friends’ gestures. So this is why Grim had insisted on taking a walk around NRC instead of going home to eat the tuna they had bought earlier that day. They were all trying to surprise me, you warmly thought.

“Wait,” an odd tree adorned with figures, ornaments, sparkles, and presents had caught your eye, “Is that an apple tree?” Jack trailed his own eyes to where you had been staring at, “Oh yeah, we couldn’t find an actual evergreen tree like the ones you told about in the stories of your world, so we just asked Epel’s grandparents if we could use a tree of theirs that hasn’t really grown yet.”

“Smart,” you replied at their improvising solutions. You never hear of anyone using an apple tree as a Christmas tree, but there was a first time for everything.

At least it’s not a shabby Charlie Brown Christmas tree, you giggled in your mind.

“Yeah!” Deuce interjected your thoughts as the bells on his elf hat had jingled with each movement he made, “And I put up all of the lights, Sebek was in charge of all of the food, and Ace made us wear these surprisingly comfortable costumes—”

“Hold up,” you hastily interrupted the dark-haired boy, “Do you guys smell that?”

Ace looked up to smell the strange scent filling the dorm’s atmosphere, “It smells like smoke.”

“And fire,” Jack scrunched up his sensitive nose in retaliation, “Who was in charge of baking the cookies, again?”

“Sebek.”

“...”

All stares were pointed towards the green-haired boy in question as he felt everyone’s worrisome glances send slight chills to his skin, “What? I prepared the pastries just like how Master Lilia would.”

“How long did you put the cookies in the oven for, Sebek?” Grim tiredly asked.

“About five hours.”

“FIRE! THERE’S FIRE IN THE KITCHEN!” a shrill scream belonging to the ghosts of Ramshackle pierced the ears of all seven of the NRC first years as they all stood in shock at Sebek’s culinary skills.

“HURRY! GET (Y/N)!”

“Oh shit—”

a/n: aww sebek baked the cookies just like how lilia likes them~ burnt, toasty, and with little flames disintegrating decorating them <3

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