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hier--soir · 6 months

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a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing?

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button. Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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dollymoon · 8 months

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🍄Mushroom Oasis - Mychael Facts Compilation🍄

A facts compilation of Mychael from Mushroom Oasis by @deerspherestudios.

All of these come from what they’ve replied in their tumblr! I write these down as the creator, Cheea, has stated them with a few changes/summarizing in some for easier reading.

There may be some light minor spoilers a tiny bit here and there!

The 1st half will be general Mychael information and then the 2nd half with be more Mychael & MC information.

-------------------------🍄🍄🍄

💚Here’s a NARRATIVE PLAYLIST [by Cheea] based off Day 1 of Mushroom Oasis and a MYCHAEL PLAYLIST [also by Cheea], if you wish to listen to them while reading~💚

💛What made you want to write such an empathetic and slow burn kind of Yandere? [Source 1 & 2] initially it was gonna be a snail monsterman who steals crops out of your back garden and you go out to bonk him on the head only to invite him into your home. Maybe in the future i'll work on the snailboy dating sim </3

But I think I’ve always wanted a cryptid-like yandere for the gamejam when it all started. It was a very barebones concept about a lonely mushroom man who sets up spore traps in order to ensnare and kidnap company. It was supposed to be way creepier and invasive as a oneshot thing, and was never meant to have multiple days in the story. I’m glad I didn’t go in that direction, though. I’m having more fun fleshing out Mychael’s character.

So when I started Mushroom Oasis, I wanted to go for a strangers-to-lovers scenario, instead of starting out with the yandere already smitten with the MC. That way, he gets to know you at the same time as you getting to know him. Hence, the attempt at slow burn haha. I just thought it’d be interesting to try and express it differently. I don’t know if I’m able to execute my intentions well but I’m doing my best! it's gonna be fun writing him as he starts to spiral :-3c Laddie doesn't know what attraction/attachment feels like. Woe be upon ye

💛Was Mychael always going to be named Mychael, or did he have other names upon his initial creation? And does he have a last name? [Source 1 & 2] Always been Mychael! Lorewise he has a different name but MC wouldn’t be able to pronounce it, so he goes by Mychael. And he doesn’t have a last name :-] He’s just Mychael!

💛What species is Mychael? Is he a faerie? [Source] As much as everyone calls him faefolk, he isn't! He's more… monster-oriented I suppose? Creature or cryptid-like. I'm not sure what to categorize him tbh hahaha.

💛Is Mychael over 18? [Source 1 & 2] Oh he’s WAY over 18. He’s way older than he looks.

💛What’s Mychael’s Height? (Dolly’s note🌹): So initially, Mychael’s height was 5'8 but then Cheea said “Mychael is 5'8 (172cm) in the demo! I just wonder if I should've made him a big boi since the beginning but i held myself back 😔” But they didn’t want to make the decision just themselves; thus they made a poll to keep Mychael as is, or to make him taller, taking into account the fan’s wishes as well. The one that won was making Mychael taller. (54.5% vs 45.5%).

And thus Cheea decided his new height would be 6'2. Cheea also added “I think it’s a fair balance since taller Mychael won the majority vote, but a vocal few really liked his original height, so I decided to go in the middle <3”

So yeah his current height is 6’2 (187cm approximately).

💛His sexuality and gender Identity? [Source] He identifies as male with he/him pronouns. And I’ve decided panromantic asexual fits him best! I just don't find him being too sexual tbh. Graysexual at best. Feel free to interpret it differently.

💛Are you okay with NSFW art of Mychael? [Source] 50/50? I’m an adult and so is he as a character. I’d say I wouldn’t mind as long as it’s properly tagged and only the right people have access to it 👍I will not share it on my main blog though but tag it as ‘mushroom oasis nsfw’ or something so people can blacklist it.

💛Mychael’s Headcanon voice? [Source] Jonathan Groff! Particularly his role as Kristoff in Frozen.

💛Can he sing like how Kristoff does in frozen? [Source] I’d imagine he could! He’s not much for singing though, he’s more likely to hum random tunes throughout the day.

💛Are Mychael's scleras just black or is it like a void/empty socket? [Source] He just has black scleras!

💛Does Mychael have tear ducts in his lower eyes? [Source] They do!! The lower eyes basically work like regular eyes, just smaller below his main ones. They can blink independently of each other too.

💛How does Mychael see if he leaves only one pair of his eyes open? It forms a blind spot but depends on which pair he closes! He sees 90% out of his upper eyes and 10% out of his bottom half. His ability also relies on eye contact, so by having both sets locked onto someone else's gaze the influence is stronger. And here’s an illustrated example!

💛Can Mychael see in the dark? [Source] Yes he can see in the dark; his eyes have that tapetum lucidum layer that reflects light in the dark, so they also glow :-)

💛What's Mychael's skin texture like? [Source] Almost human but you can tell something’s different. Eerily smooth, despite his rough palms. If you pinch his cheeks or poke his sides enough times (if he doesn’t get mad at you for it) you’d be able to tell his skin’s a bit thicker than yours. Also like fungi I imagine his skin has chitin. So a bit tougher maybe.

💛Are Mychael's horns and tail soft and fragile like an actual mushroom? [Source] If you mean the shroom-like caps on his head and tip of his tail; soft but definitely not fragile. Think of those cheap squishies with some give but bounce back pretty quick! They’re susceptible to bruising too.

💛Is Mychael’s tail poisonous? If not, how would Mychael react if someone bit it? [Source 1 & 2] Nop it isn’t poisonous. And like… a straight up bite out of it?? Or a nibble??? If you bit him so hard it takes a piece of his tail it’d hurt and bleed a lot. It’s full of nerve endings but will heal over and regenerate eventually.

If it’s just a nibble you’d just taste dirt and bitterness I think haha. And depending on how close you are to him, he’d either be flustered beyond belief or just downright very uncomfortable hahaha.

💛Is Mychael’s blood blue because some irl creatures have blue blood due to their blood having copper instead of iron or was it for aesthetic reasons? [Source] It was definitely for aesthetic purposes more than anything, since I wanted him to blush a non-human color. One of the earlier concept sketches had him blushing bright magenta haha.

💛What does Mychael smell like? [Source] I’d describe it as freshly cut grass with a hint of log fires. Like camping in summer if that makes sense.

💛Does Mychael purr? [Source] Since im honestly a sucker for the purring trope i'll say hell yea tbh hahaha. His would be a really low rumble I'd imagine. He can also occasionally let out a low trill or those ‘mrrp’ sounds when he’s caught off guard or surprised but it's rare since he's real embarrassed when he does it.

💛Is Michael ticklish? [Source] Considering he’s never been tickled before,,, I think he’d go into shock if you did that to him💀 But to answer your question yeah I think he’d be the most ticklish person you’ve ever met haha. He’s either gonna accept his fate or go down fighting😔

💛Does Mychael snore in his sleep? [Source] He’d be a pretty quiet sleeper I think!

💛Does Mychael get sick? Since he’s not human, he doesn’t get sick like we do:

He’s aware we call it being sick, but his term is ‘feeling withered/wilted.’

He doesn’t have a temperature, but his skin turns pale and blemished like a diseased plant, and gets kinda slimy and cold like a frog’s. Here's a visual of how he looks like sick.

No energy, no appetite, barely talks. Very zombie-ish.

He gets real drowsy and dazed and the only thing to motivate him is seeking out warmth.

He just needs sunshine and sleep to get better so you’d find him laying out in the sun during the day and hiding away in blankets at night, sleeping it off. He only eats once a day, since his body needs rest rather than sustenance.

He gets sick like... once every few years that's how rare it is but when it happens it knocks him out for like a week </3

💛Does Mychael fear metal? What phobias does he have? [Source 1 & 2] No, he doesn’t fear metal and iron wouldn't hurt him! His phobias/fears are: snowstorms, thunder/lightning and water wells. In no particular order :-) (Oh, and trains/train whistles.)

💛Does Michael have any food that he hates? [Source] Anything spicy! He can handle some spice, but anything that gives heat on your tongue he’d definitely be put off since it makes him physically ill.

💛Mychael's life cycle: [Source] His life cycle is very different from a human’s.

💛Does Mychael have his own languge? If so, what does it sound like? [Source 1 & 2] He actually has his own language, but speaks in English (or your own language if you’d prefer!)

His language sounds very animalistic; a lot of growls, hisses and clicks. It’s like hearing a cat verbally communicate with those sounds. If you guys are familiar with Toki Pona, (here’s a video for reference.) the simplicity is very similar in terms of vocab and sentence structure. Considering the limitations of those same growls, hisses and clicks, plus how little he communicates in his own language, it’s not a complex system but he speaks it regardless. He wont be speaking it in-game hence why im okay answering the question.

💛Can Mychael read? [Source] Yep, he can read! He talks about it some more in Day 2.

💛Can Mychael swim? [Source] He’d be able to swim, yeah.

💛How much does Mychael know of human customs/cooking/inventions? And does he like/dislike some of them? [Source] He knows enough to make a living for himself. He’s really into DIY and crafting, but if anything gets more complex to the point it goes over his head- he’d just abandon it. As for human customs he knows even less; it’s kinda touch and go what he does and doesn’t know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ For example, he's seen cars and phones but doesn't understand how they work. Traditional stuff like crafting/cooking/gardening is easier for him to grasp.

💛Does Mychael have any religion/belief? [Source] I’ve played around with this concept in my head! I did want to explore a unique kind of religion/belief Mychael has but,,, eventually I kinda settled on the idea that Mychael broke off from that way of thinking? Or something like that. It can be accepted that he used to have a religion- or never had one to begin with. it's a tricky subject for me anyway </3 But feel free to have your own interpretation!

💛Does Mychael have any superstitions? [Source] His biggest superstition is respecting the forest and whatever happens in the forest, stays in the forest. (That is until you came along and made him break his own rule. Whoops.)

💛What's Mychael’s wardrobe like? [Source] He’s not much for fashion; as long as he thinks it’s practical and comfortable he’d wear it. He wouldn’t be a fan of clothes that’re less weather-resistent though, since he clearly needs stuff that could stand the wilderness.

He doesn’t accessorize much either, preferring to keep simple and be as drab as possible to attract less attention. But I think he’d love to try nail polish :-)) He has a lot of hats and scarves though.

💛Would Mychael be willing to wear a dress? [Source] I’d like to think he’s tried em before! He kinda had to scrap by when it came to clothes so he wouldn’t be picky in his early days.

Nowadays, he probably thinks they’re nice to wear but impractical for his daily chores, so he mostly sticks to tops and bottoms. But he won’t be opposed to it.

💛When did Mychael start knitting and why? [Source] He’s been knitting for a few years, so he’s kinda advanced. As for why, he finds it relaxing especially after a long day, and usually does it before bedtime. Plus he just loves being bundled up in warm things in general.

💛What is Mychael's favorite thing to knit? [Source] His favorite thing to knit are beanies!! :-D

💛What are other craftsmanship does Mychael do? [Source 1 & 2] He’s tried out woodworking, sculpting, candle-making, pottery etc. Knitting just happens to be his favorite of all the things he’s tried haha. Assume Mychaels an expert at gardening too!

💛Does Mychael ever overwork himself to the point of almost passing out? [Source] He definitely used to! It’s not easy making a living out in the wilderness; especially when he only had himself to rely on. Thankfully he doesn’t need to go through that anymore; he’s made a pretty nice home for himself since then. He's been thru a lot. Sopping wet cat energy.

💛How long has Mychael been in his home/cabin for? [Source] Previously he’d wander around like a nomad before finding himself a home. He’s only settled down into his cabin in the woods for a few years, it’s still a work in progress by his standards.

💛Does Mychael like stargazing? [Source] He’s more of a daytime person tbh! At night he’d prefer to stay cozy indoors. When you spend half your life sleeping outside in the cold. You don't miss it much despite the pretty lights in the sky.

💛What kind of music does Mychael listen to? [Source] Hm! He rarely listens to music, so he doesn’t have a preference tbh. If he had to choose- Perhaps something more upbeat and dancey since it’s a nice change from the quiet, but only for short periods. He’d probably enjoy whatever you’re listening to if you give him the chance :-)! Lyrics don't matter as much to him. He'd just enjoy it based off the sound.

💛What are some of Mychael's favorite scents? [Source] Top 3 would be the smell of old books, honey and (strangely enough) gasoline??? But the last one is soso rare for him he finds it exciting when he happens to catch a whiff, even if he has no idea what it is haha.

If you happen to be the type to wear perfumes/scents, he’d quickly associate the smell with you and have it be another one of his favorites :-)

💛How would Mychael react if he found a lost child in the woods? [Source] He’d be surprised for sure. His part of the woods is pretty untouched by humans, so to find one wandering this far is definitely a shock to him. If the kid was too scared to let him approach, he’d have to use a tiny fraction of his ability to calm them down, so as not to leave any side effects (younger minds are more vulnerable to it). If the kid wasn’t scared and asked if he was some sort of woodland fae/goblin creature, he’d go along with it and say he’s come to rescue them.

After making sure the kid is alright, he’d either try to find the parents straight away or bring them home if they needed food or rest. He wouldn’t dare adopt a child willy nilly, and if there was no other way, he’d probably drop them somewhere like a police or fire station (he can’t really differentiate between them, just that they respond to emergencies).

Overall he’s not opposed to being around children, just not used to it.

💛I see Mychael as a very docile and friendly creature- but in the 3rd ending of the game "Playing Pretend" left me with a doubt... Would he really be a bad guy? [Source] You’re not wrong! Mychael’s not the most violent, even if he is capable of it. In Ending 3 he just… panicked. Though don’t underestimate the things he’d resort to when he realizes how attached he’s getting to you :-)

He’s calm and composed… until he isn’t.

💛How many creatures/people has Mychael found "affected" by those mushrooms that the MC came across? [Source] You’re not the first, that’s for sure! He definitely knows about them, but finds it unnecessary to tell you (at least for now). He was quick to dismiss your doubts on how you lost consciousness, giving you an easy explanation even if he had to lie.

Most of the time he lets the incapacitated creatures be; “it’s the will of the forest,” after all. Although he does break that rule when he finds humans that’re still alive (in this case, you!) in his forest, but that’s very very rare.

💛How would Mychael act if MC introduced him to their friend? MC told their friend that Mychael wouldn't hurt them but the friend is still a little scared and weary of him. [Source] Definitely wary of them too. He kinda trusts you, but can he trust them? He’s met his fair share of humans; not a lot of them were as accepting as you. He can try to lower his guard but your friend would need to convince him themself.

💛Mychael & MC in Day 1 of the game. [Source] Mychael, as a person, is quite solitary in nature; he likes being alone and you’ll find out why. He does however desire company and he’s only realized just how pleasant having someone around can be (hence his reaction for the Bad Endings in Day 1 if you wish to leave/run away).

You grow closer to Mychael as you hang out with him and do little things that he appreciates. Example: The first thing that boosts you to immediate friend status is your willingness to accept his physical looks, something that’s never happened to him before. Little things like that mean a lot to him and motivates him to prolong your stay.

If Mychael met a more grouchy/mean MC on Day 1 he’d probably not be as attached. He’d just save you, feed you and send you home when you ask hahaha. Of course, this will change as he gets to know you better, at that stage he’ll be willing to overlook your flaws like any upstanding yandere.

💛How would Mychael react if the player character was already in a relationship with someone else? [Source] At his current attachment in Day 1 [Friend status], he’d be respectful about it! A little overprotective but mostly curious what dating and marriage is all about. He’s not familiar with it outside of whatever knowledge he happened to pick up.

Now if he’s grown obsessed developed feelings and found out afterwards though…

💛Can you date Mychael in this game? Or not? [Source] I mean that's the goal! ¯_(ツ)_/¯ If his responses in asks currently give off a platonic vibe, that's because they are.

As of Day 1, Mychael's feelings towards you are positive but mostly platonic [Here's a visual affection level chart]. His bad endings show his desperation for company rather than you reciprocating any romantic feelings.

As I update the game, his responses will most likely be more romantically-driven. The game is a slow burn after all :-) He's a yandere- but a yandere who hasn't fallen in love yet. Though I do plan on adding a platonic ending bc sometimes u just wanna kiss a bestie without any romantic feelings attached.

💛What made you think of the pet name ‘Firefly’ for MC? [Source] It honestly just came to me as I was concepting the game ;v;! Other pet names Mychael would’ve used were: turtledove, poppet and sweetpea. He would switch it up in the initial draft but sticking to one makes it more special I think.

💛What does Mychael think about femboys? [Source] He doesn’t really mind nor care how you present yourself :-0! In fact he’d find it strange you asked that at all after you explain what it means dhfjsjf

💛Does Mychael have a gender preference? [Source] Not at all! His favorite genre of human is you :-) Plus gender talk goes way over his head. He's too busy thinking about survival to mind that stuff. Anything you identify with he's absolutely okay with <3

💛How would Mychael feel about someone a lot shorter than him? [Source] He had to admit he forgot adult humans come in your size,,, he wouldn’t think much of it though! He’s just excited to make a friend :-)

💛What would Mychael's "ideal type" be? [Source] I think he’d be more attracted to gentleness, I think. Someone who is kind despite a harsh reality; willing to understand a creature like him and someone he trusts he can drop his guard around.

But even if you don’t fit that criteria, he’d still like you as long as you accept him for who he is! There’s no need to worry about changing yourself to fit his preference <3

💛How did the player get to Mychael’s home? [Source] I always imagined it as piggyback to be honest! But bridal carry, a fireman’s carry, over-the-shoulder, whatever you guys are comfortable with he’s definitely capable of <3 He may be shorter than most (Dolly’s note🌹: His height changed since this ask so maybe not anymore lol so let's change it to 'He may seem weak') but he's strong.

💛Is MC permanently affected by the mushroom ring they stepped in? How much power does Mychael hold against it? [Source] No, MC is not permanently affected by the mushroom ring they stepped in. In one of the bad endings, the influence of it over you is stronger than what Mychael can fight against, hence he releases you as he sees it as the forest already claiming you fully. He can do nothing else to save you.

That’s why he insists on you staying for dinner, and is surprised when you say yes, as he really thought he lost you already for a moment there :-) Past that choice, the mysterious ‘purple’ influence no longer affects you, as Mychael had successfully distracted you long enough for the mind-altering effects to wear off. He just needed the right thing to say to keep you grounded. Lest you wander off and end up in the ground </3

💛If we asked, would he talk to us in his own language? [Source] If he were to talk in it you wouldn’t be able to differentiate one word to another, they all sound the same hahaha.

💛Can we research what type of fae creature Mychael is? Will he be okay with it? [Source] He might be apprehensive at first, but if you ask the right questions he’d probably answer just enough to satiate your curiosity. Don’t be surprised if he leaves out certain things though, he doesn’t want you to think he’s a freak. 💔 He doubts you'd find anything in research though but who knows

💛Do you think Mychael would be a good teacher, when it comes to knitting? [Source] He’s never taught anyone before but he’d be happy to! (He’d probably be a very hands-on teacher cuz he’s bad at explaining–)

💛What if you knitted something for Mychael? [Source] If you knitted something for him he’d probably wear it/look at it multiple times throughout the day getting butterflies in his stomach.

💛If MC brought him to a secret river as a gift would he go? [Source] The thing I’d correct is Mychael would bring MC to a river instead of the other way around hahaha. MC is the poor meowmeow who got lost in the woods on Day 1. Their ass would not!! know any secret rivers

💛How would Mychael react if MC threw him a surprise party, to celebrate his birthday or to celebrate the day they both met? [Source] I think he’d love it a lot!! He’s not one to celebrate much if anything, but he’d be so happy if you threw a little surprise just for him :-) Especially knowing he gets to spend time with his favorite person in the world for such a special occasion <3

💛Is there any fun activities that Mychael would drag MC to? [Source] Oh for sure! He’d probably take you outdoors a lot and show you all his favorite spots in the forest :-)!! He’d probably bring you along to do his daily errands if you’d allow it haha

💛What would Mychael say if I were to take two slices of bread, put his head in between and sweetly ask: "what are you?" The answer lol

💛What would Mychael’s reaction be if MC tried giving him spicy food? [Source] If you try to give him a spicy dish, he’d definitely smell it first before he even tastes it. He’d just politely decline in that scenario.

💛What is his opinion if MC is the type to snore? [Source] He's definitely the kind of person to have the TV on in the room even if their not watching- just to have some noise around the house. So if MC were the type to snore… he’d probably find the sound strangely comforting? He’d find it jarring at first but grow used to it quickly.

It’s nice to hear you and know that someone is around after being alone for so long, especially when he’s up during late nights <3

💛How would Mychael feel about an MC who steals and wears his sweaters? [Source] He’d find it strange why you’d wanna steal when you can just ask– he’d also find it very endearing. Should he be concerned that you're a potential thief?? Or just worry about how cute you look?? a moral dilemma

💛Is there any type of clothing that Mychael likes to see on MC? [Source] I’d imagine he’d like clothes on MC that are more earth-toned perhaps, greens and browns that remind him of his forest and such. :-) Loose clothes are a bonus too cuz it makes you look comfy around him! i think he'd be a fan of animal-themed clothes too; pawprint socks or a fox cap or a rabbit hoodie- something like that.

💛What is Mychael’s love language? [Source] This is assuming MC and Mychael have been friends/lovers for a while; When you’re on the receiving end: Offering Gifts 🎁💖

He’s never had anyone be around as long as you have; he’s kinda new to the gifting thing but does so with a lot of enthusiasm!!

Whether it’s something he made or found, knowing he chose it for you is what makes it soso special.

He just loves the idea of being able to give something that was a part of himself and insert it into your life if that makes sense.

He also loves doing it because he believes you deserve to have nice things with all his heart :-)!

If he’s not sure what to gift you he’d rely on pretty little knickknacks he thinks you’d like but still be on the safe side; flowers, jewelry, decorations and accessories.

But if he does figure out your interests he’d do his best to accommodate! Books, toys, tools and clothes… he has his means of getting stuff he can’t make himself.

The idea of you keeping his gifts as a sign of friendship/love makes him really happy!!

Lowkey if he sees you using/wearing/displaying a gift he gave in the past he’d be purring non-stop.

When he’s on the receiving end; Words of Affirmation 💬💕

We know how he feels about his physical appearance so this is a no-brainer. His self-esteem isn’t the best :’-)

Being alone/isolated as he is, he might confuse physical affection but nothing is more clear to him than words straight from your mouth about how much you mean to him <3

At first he wonders if you truly mean what you say when you talk so positively about him, but then he slowly starts to believe it.

Do not underestimate the impact of one (1) compliment as simple as “You look good today, Mychael.” He’d remember it for at least a week.

It’s a bit of a guessing game to figure out what gets him the best. If you praise his skill at something his response would be, “Oh I guess I got good at it. Thanks, firefly :-)” but if you praise his looks and mannerisms you’ve hit the jackpot.

Blushing, stuttering, avoiding your gaze level of embarrassment.

If you’re really close friends or basically dating, he will absolutely ask for your opinion on how you feel about him from time to time, just to get reassurance from you.

Overall nothing gets him better than just hearing positive remarks from a loving source aka you :-) <3

💛How would Mychael react if we made him some lunch while he was knitting and feed it to him? The cute illustrated answer

💛How would he react to a very clingy MC? [Source] If you mean very clingy, he’d be pretty tense about it, to be honest. He’s not used to physical touch but doesn’t mind it; if you take it easy and ask permission (so he doesn’t get overwhelmed) he’d be more okay with it! Just respect him when he asks you for space every once in a while <3

(Dolly’s note🌹: I can only guess but I think this answer is if you're still in the friend status because if this applies even in the obsessed status, the below Q&A would so funny in comparison)

💛But is Mychael clingy? This guy? Clingy? Nahhh. Nothing to worry about, anon :-)/s Here's a visual of his clinginess, he's very clingy yes lol.

💛Is Mychael the jealous type? [Source] It’s rare for him to feel jealous, but I’d imagine when it does happen he’d feel it very intensely on the inside. But you’d probably be none the wiser 💔

💛How would Mychael react if we confess our feelings to him? [Source] Bold of you to assume he won’t be the one to confess first 🤨

💛Does Mychael like to be kissed? [Source] His kind arent accustomed to physical affection. Does he even know what kissing is??? Thats for me to decide and you to figure out 👀 BUT He’d love getting kisses! On the cheeks especially :-) But careful not to overstimulate him; he’s kinda like a cat when you pet ‘em too much and they get all frazzled. Kisses on the lips he's less inclined but doesn't mind em time to time. Maybe like a peck or two. And here's a gif of pampering Mychael's face with kisses <3

💛Does Mychael know about marriage customs in human civilization? [Source] He’s familiar with human marriage the same way a young kid would be; involves inviting people, dressing up and wearing rings for some reason?? How strange to go to such lengths when you could just be around that same person the rest of your life and still be the same??

He doesn’t put much significance on it personally. Unless…? 👀 💛What would Mychael do if MC took care of him while he was sick? [Source] He’s not used to asking someone to care for him, but in this state if MC offered to help he’d honestly just ask you to keep him warm too with zero assumption as to what you might think. He’s just a little too out of it to be embarrassed about it. Example of providing him warmth.

💛Would Mychael let us hug him when he’s sick or would he push us away? Although, would this make us sick? [Source] He would! I’d say he’s the most physically clingiest when he’s sick. He’s basically sleepy all the time and other than seeking warmth, he doesn’t communicate much.

And no, we can’t get sick from him and vice versa, since our bodies are different from his. So no worries about getting yourself sick when you’re around him!

💛What would Mychael do if the MC got ill? [Source] Oh he’d be worried beyond belief! He wouldn’t leave you alone for a second.

He’s not familiar with human sickness, but he’d do his best to provide whatever it is you need. Hot soup, warm blankets, he’d even risk going to get medicine for you if you ask.

-------------------------🍄🍄🍄

Some facts I didn’t add as Cheea didn’t give a direct answer to some questions, like Mychael’s family, since they’ll eventually be answered in the game <3

But I hope you enjoy this and that it may be useful to you all!

#mushroom oasis #visual novel #mushroom oasis vn #mychael #mushroom oasis mychael #info organizing

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oopwoop · 10 months

Text

Playing Minecraft W/ The SpiderVerse Kids

pairing(s): Miles Morales (e!1610!), Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, Gwen Stacy

warning(s): swearing! unedited.

i used this site to figure out/decide what type of player they’d be

i’ve been playing a lot of Minecraft recently and thought of what it’d be like to play with them so.. here you go!

Miles Morales (e!1610!)

He prefers Creative over Survival for sure, reasoning: he’s scared of the mobs and refuses to fight them

Plus in Creative it’s a lot easier for him to build stuff because he is definitely The Big Builder or The Decorator. He makes the most outrageous buildings but they look good

Has a whole world full of buildings and stuff. Like, complete towns filled with mansions

Playing with him is a lot of fun though! He’ll come up with build designs with you and you’d work together. If not, the two of you would totally mess around, building things just to blow them up with TNT or set it on fire

Miles is the one to put your beds next to each other. He thinks it’s cute, though he’ll do it without saying anything and if you mention it he becomes a stuttering mess and says he knows nothing and didn’t do it.

If you do end up playing Survival with him he will make you kill all the mobs, no doubt about it. He’ll make the base, probably trade with villagers, farm and kill the animals for food but not much else. He’s too afraid of dying

“Miles, did you put the beds next to each other? Because I know I didn’t.” You snicker teasingly, your character staring at the beds then at his character. You turn yourself to glance at him and notice his eyes are wide and he’s blushing.

“What..? What, me? Nooo.. That’s stupid why would I do that? Maybe you forgot that you did it because I didn’t.” He stumbled over his words, refusing eye contact. It was cute.

“Mhm, okay. Y’know, maybe I did forget. I think it’s a cute idea, though.” You smirked, kissing his cheek before turning back to the screen and continued playing.

Gwen Stacy

I think she’d play Survival and only Survival, claims Creative is for the weak

She goes all out in Minecraft, fighting mobs, getting achievements, going to the Nether, all of that. She’s not afraid

Definitely The Pro or The Achiever. Like I said, Gwen goes all out

She’d forcefully make you go with her, but she’d give you the right equipment needed and pointers on how to fight. If you genuinely don’t want to fight with her she’d have you farm and trade, pretty much do the smaller necessities for survival.

Has finished Minecraft several times, got all the achievements and everything on different worlds, never gets old for her

If you got her to play Creative she’d go on a rampage, killing everything for fun. Or she’d fly around trying to find different biomes

“C’monnn.. it’s not that bad!” Gwen would groan, trying to convince you to go to the Nether with her. “I’ve given all the armor and tools you need! Just try not to die.”

“Try not to die?? It’s the Nether, I’ll die no matter what! I’m not a pro like you. I’m not the one who’s finished this game multiple times.” You gave her an incredulous look, gaping at her words. It’s one thing to not die on the main world, that was usually easy, but the Nether? Yeah right, she’s insane.

“You’re overreacting.. Plus, if I’m a pro, wouldn’t that make you feel better that you’d be with me? Not by yourself.” She chuckled, arguing her point. You just scoffed and told her to go, following in after her.

Pavitr Prabhakar

I see him playing both Creative and Survival. Just really depends on his mood. Either way he’s having fun

He’d be The Zookeeper, collecting animals like Pokémon cards for real. Within the first 30 minutes of playing he already has a house full of cats and dogs, probably three parrots flying around him and is starting an animal farm. How? No idea, he just does

In Creative mode he’d spawn them all, naming all the animals with name tags one by one, even coloring the dog collars too

In Survival he’s taming every animal he sees, using a lead to bring the animal to a fenced in area. There’s one full of cows, pigs, horses, all the usual ones. But he even has them for pandas, camels, and turtles.

He’s also one to place his bed next to you, though unlike Miles, he’s not embarrassed by it, actually stating out loud he’s doing it. No shame at all.

When he’s not collecting animals, he’s following you around. He has no idea where you’re going or what you’re doing but he doesn’t care. He’s following and collecting every flower he sees, claiming he’s gonna make a bouquet for you.

“Hey, Pav? Where’s the- woah what the hell? How do you already have a whole army of pandas? Where’d you even get those from? We’re no where near a jungle..” You questioned, beyond surprise by the sight of around a dozen pandas in a fenced up area. It was even decorated to what a panda would need, looking like a small jungle.

“Hm? You say that likes it’s hard to find them! What’s so bad about it? I think they’re cute!” He smiled brightly, his character jumping around in the area full of pandas. “I have more than just pandas!”

“How?? We haven’t even played for more than an hour! When did you do all this?” While it was probably better not to question him, you needed to know how he did it, and seeing him more than happy to explain made it all the more better.

Hobie Brown (sorry it’s shorter than the rest)

He genuinely does not care if y’all play Creative or Survival, doesn’t matter to him, he’s gonna be a complete menace either way

He’s not any of the type of players listed in the site I used, he doesn’t believe in consistency. He can go from killing mobs to farming. His main goal is to fuck with you though

He never gets you killed in Survival but he will mess around. He’ll hit your character (without a sword or anything) when you’re fighting a mob and run away. It’s like playing with a child

I can see him setting a village on fire and saying something along the lines of “they’re capitalist pigs and deserve to die” or something

All in all, he’s not much of a fan of Minecraft but he’ll play it with you if you ask.

“Hobie, why is there a village on fire? What did you do?” You raised a brow at him, staring at the slight smirk on his face. It was a telltale sign he did it, but you knew it was him either way. There’s no way a village randomly caught on fire.

“What ya mean, luv? Oh, tha’. Yeah I did tha’. Bunch a capitalist pigs, I tell ya. Jus’ doin’ my job gettin rid of ‘em.” He chuckled while setting another village on fire. You didn’t wanna know how many he’d set on fire at this point.

“It’s a game, B. And I need to trade with them, they have good stuff sometimes.” You whined, huffing at him. You know he doesn’t care and will do it anyways.

“Find another one then, luv.”

All of them!

My god is it a nightmare.. first it starts out as an argument, trying to decide whether or not y’all are playing Survival or Creative. Mainly Gwen and Miles though, Pavitr and Hobie don’t care.

After about ten minutes of arguing they decided to ask you, so whatever one you prefer is what y’all played on. Either way one of them is whining.

If you picked Survival it leads to a pouty Miles, complaining how he’s gonna die a lot, and a smiley Gwen.

Within the first day Miles has already made a small base for you guys, Pav has gathered a few animals (he pouted when it was stated the cows and such would be used for food eventually, Gwen was mining for ores, and Hobie was.. being Hobie.

It was surprising to see how smooth everyone seemed to work together for a while, considering before y’all even started playing an argument broke out. Though if y’all could work well together while on mission, why couldn’t you in a game, yeah?

Give it an hour or so.. bickering over stupid stuff is bound to happen.

If you picked Creative, Gwen is whining how it’s for losers, which causes Miles to flip her off and thank you for picking it.

With Creative there’s a lot less arguing and bickering. Though there is much more chaos. Y’all are blowing up everything or settlor on fire for fun.

It started with you all just doing your own thing until randomly Hobie brings up the idea.

“I ‘ave an idea..” Hobie says out of the blue, causing everyone to pause. You all look at him with a face of confusion or hesitation. Whenever he had an idea, it was wild or something went wrong in some way.

“Great.. you have an idea.. does it have to do with the game or real life? Because I don’t feel like blowing up a building in your universe again..” Gwen scoffed, the others nodding in agreement.

“Yeah.. I agree with Gwen.. last time you had an idea we almost got killed..” You chuckled dryly, still traumatized from that.

“Damn, no faith in me at all, huh?” He rolled his eyes. “Yea, in the game.. Don’t worry, don’t plan on killin’ y’all. Woulda done so already if I wanted to.”

That caused another pause in the room, silence too loud. Thank god for Miles for breaking it. “Okayyy… what’s your plan?”

“Well, Gwendy got blowin’ up a buildin’ correc’. Though, I meant in the game. Why not have some fun an’ blow up some shit, or set it on fire, yea?” It was a smart idea, surprisingly. Everyone agreed, just with some terms, mainly Pav and Miles.

“Sounds fun! As long as my animals are safe and out of it, I’m in!” Pavitr stated, Miles nodding in agreement, but for his builds.

“Woah, a surprisingly good idea.. Let’s do it! Let’s blow some shit up!” You poked fun at Hobie, before smiling widely. It concerned the others at how widely you smiled but brushed it off. They agreed with the idea so they must be just as crazy then. With that, buildings were blown up, forests were burnt down. It was so chaotic to the point that the game started to lag and eventually crashed, causing you all to burst out in laughter. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

I apologize for not posting yesterday, but hopefully this makes up for it! It’s longer than my normal posts. I hope you enjoy!

Send requests! Love you!

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #gwen stacy x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #fanfic #Spotify

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willalove75 · 8 months

Text

Alcina's New Maid Pt. 17 Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

Summary: You have your final few days of training and the morning of the meeting finally arrives.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI. Very brief mention of suicide (while talking about Donna's past and her parents). No details mentioned, just mentioning the act itself. If you want to skip that part, skip to the dialogue after the paragraph starting with **.

Tags: fluff, light angst

Notes: Part 17! Sorry for the teeny tiny cliffhanger but we were reaching 5k words so I had to cut it off. Next chapter will dive straight into the meeting! Also, I re-read most of this the other day but I'm sick and don't have the mental capacity to go over it again so apologies for any errors!

Click here for the rest of the series

Gif source

The following morning Cassandra woke you up before sunrise again for your last full day of training. Once you were warmed up she started sparring with you again and showing you different ways to get out of different kinds of grapples.

After breakfast she brought out one of her old daggers and handed it to you and taught you how to use it properly now that Karl was making you one of your own. Cassandra showed you how to wield it, and the different ways you can use it for defense and the occasional attack. Once she was satisfied with your movements she ran inside and grabbed a wooden dagger and used that to spar with you.

The first hour of the sparring session ended with her poking you with her wooden dagger in at least eight different places that would kill you. She grabbed Dani and used her as a model to point out where the main arteries in the body were and how to hit them to either kill your opponent or cause massive damage.

She continued sparring with you and teaching you how to block the most important parts of your body to avoid death or severe injury. After a few hours you were finally getting the hang of it and you decided to take a quick break for lunch. Zina brought out your lunches again and Bela and Daniela joined the two of you, all of you eating in the courtyard.

When you finished eating Cassandra quizzed you on the locations of the major arteries again and had you practice sheathing and unsheathing your dagger while you digested. After about an hour it was back to sparring. Once more you sparred with Bela and Daniela but this time they had the wooden dagger. Bela was hard to hit due to her defensive nature and you were able to get a few hits on Daniela because her moves were so erratic and chaotic. None of the hits you landed would have done much damage - no less kill someone - but the fact that you were able to hit her at all meant you were progressing well.

"Okay, now you'll have mother, Aunt Donna and Uncle Karl there to help you if shit goes sideways so you won't have to fight Miranda alone." Cassandra says.

"Which is a good thing because if you fought her alone you would definitely die." Daniela adds in.

"Oh yeah, without a doubt. You'd be super fucked. But even with the three of them Miranda is still stupid strong so it'll still be a really hard fight. Lets team up, you and Dani and me and Bela and we'll do a team match. This will encompass everything, grapples, defense, the daggers, you gotta be on your toes."

The match started and Daniela immediately went after Bela and Cassandra headed directly for you. You were able to fight her off for a decent amount of time before she grappled you. When you realized her grip on you was too strong you were able to grab your dagger and stab her in the leg and get out of it. Even though you missed the artery it was still enough damage to knock her off her game for a moment and get out of her grip.

It felt wrong attacking the girls. Even though you knew a stab like that was the equivalent of a papercut to them. Attacking them wasn't something you enjoyed. Although if you were being honest, attacking anyone wasn't something you enjoyed so at least when you go to stab someone else when they attack you you won't feel as bad as you do when you stab one of the girls.

Bela was able to knock Daniela down and headed over to you to assist Cassandra. Two on one was tough and you didn't last long at all. Although you lasted longer than you thought you would - meaning you were able to fight them off for about a minute instead of immediately being subdued. Bela managed to pin you down and when Daniela finally got over to you, Cassandra was quick to pin her, winning them the match.

The sound of applause rang through the air as Alcina walked over.

"Well done girls. Cassandra, your swordsmanship with the dagger was fantastic, Bela, wonderful defense, Daniela, I don't know how you always manage to keep your sisters on their toes, even after all of these years. And draga, you did a fantastic job, you held your own well. I'm very proud of all of you." She says with a smile. "Now girls, go get washed up, dinner will be soon."

The girls swarm up to give their mother kisses on her cheek and head inside. Alcina walks over to one of the benches and sits down. She pulls you into her lap and holds you close.

"I am very impressed draga mea, truly."

"You are?"

"Yes, I saw you stab Cassandra in the leg to get out of her grasp. Your quick thinking was impressive my love."

"Thanks. I really hope a fight doesn't break out at the meeting. It's one thing sparring with the girls, but with Miranda? I don't know, it makes me nervous."

"It makes me nervous too draga mea. But I'll be there with you and I won't let anything happen to you. Donna and Karl also swore to help protect you so you will be okay." She says.

"I'd hate to be the reason anyone got hurt."

Alcina kisses you on the head and you look up into her golden eyes. She smiles down at you and places a knuckle under your chin and leans down, capturing you lips with hers.

"I won't let anything happen to you, draga mea. I promise." She whispers against your lips.

"I know." You reply before kissing her again.

Alcina nuzzles you and the dinner bell rings.

The two of you walk into the dining room and the girls swarm in. Hunger hits you the moment you smell the delicious food and as soon as your plate it piled you dig in.

Alcina lets you sleep in a little the next morning and just as you're getting dressed the breakfast bell rings. After breakfast Cassandra reviews some of the things she's taught you over the last few days and the two of you finish up right before lunch.

The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. Cassandra does another quick review with you after dinner and once the two of you are finished you head into your room and find Alcina drawing herself a bath.

"Ah, draga, there you are. How was it?"

"It was good, I was able to retain almost everything she taught me."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Would you like to join me?" She asks as she finishes taking off the rest of her clothes and steps into the tub.

You nod and pull off your clothes and toss them in the hamper. Alcina lifts you into the tub and sits you down in her lap with your back against her chest. Once you're comfortable you let out a sigh and lean into her. Alcina wraps her arms around you and kisses your neck.

You're completely enveloped by her, by her scent, by the feeling of her skin against yours, her warm breath skating across your neck. As stressed as you are over tomorrow's meeting you can't help but feel relaxed in her arms. When you're with her like this you feel more safe than you ever have in your life. Even after everything - all of the pain, the hurt, the heartbreak, she's still the one that brings you more comfort than anyone else ever has. If you tried making sense of it you'd surely get a migraine. But right here, in her arms, you're safe. And that's all that matters.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow?" You ask her.

"It's difficult to know how to feel when I don't know what her intentions are, draga. If it were solely about the hunters I would say I am prepared and looking forward to coming up with a plan to deal with them. Although yes, the hunters will certainly be discussed because they are a topic of concern, I know Miranda and I know she's not asking you to be there to solely take notes."

"Are you afraid of her?"

Alcina pauses for a moment to contemplate your question as her fingers mindlessly trace patterns across your skin.

"Yes and no."

"How so?"

"I am not afraid of her for myself. She is incredibly powerful and even though it would not be easy, she could certainly kill me. But I know she won't. She needs myself and the rest of the lords to keep the village under her thumb as she searches for her perfect vessel. And since I do most of the work she knows that killing me would be a mistake. But I fear for the day that she deems us unnecessary because when that day comes, she won't hesitate killing all of us. Her power is nearly limitless and I have no doubt that she will do anything and everything to succeed in finding a suitable vessel for Eva. Even if it means destroying everything around her to do so. Until then she will do whatever she feels is necessary to keep us, the lords, in line. I'm also worried that she is going to try and hurt you to hurt me. I wouldn't put it past her to do something like that again and that scares me, draga mea."

She sighs and holds you tight, nuzzling her nose into your hair. As you take in her words, the word "again" sticks out.

"What do you mean 'again?'"

"Lets finish up in here and I'll tell you in bed."

You nod and you both finish bathing. After drying off and putting on pajamas you crawl into bed and curl under Alcina's chin. Alcina holds you close and continues.

"Many years ago, decades ago at this point, Karl had a paramour. It wasn't someone he truly loved but he did care for them. They were a worker at his factory and the two of them began spending time together. Karl began slacking off to spend more time with them; Mother Miranda got wind of it and she was less than pleased. One day they went missing. Mother Miranda called a meeting and none of us knew why until we arrived and saw Karl's paramour chained down at her feet. She said they were nothing but a nuisance and they were only causing trouble, distracting Karl from her goal of finding a perfect vessel. She ordered Karl to kill them and he refused. Mother Miranda was going to kill them but instead I offered. Karl was furious but I knew that whatever Miranda was going to do, she was going to make them suffer horrifically because Karl refused her. She relented and I was the one who killed them. It was the only time I ever apologized to someone before I killed them. They knew that this was a mercy kill and that Miranda would have done much worse so it was also the only time someone had thanked me for doing it. Miranda was pleased and allowed me to take their body back to the castle to do what I pleased with it. Karl came over the next day and he was so angry, he thought I drained their blood and turned them into one of the vineyards scarecrows. But I didn't, instead I cleared a small spot on the edge of the woods and had them buried. Karl was grateful and after we had a conversation he understood why I did what I did. Karl was still relatively new and hadn't seen Miranda's wrath like I had. He knew refusing her would anger her but he didn't realize she would have taken it out on their paramour instead of himself."

"Is that why he hates Miranda?"

"One of the reasons. He hated her well before that incident. She had kidnapped him and infected him with the cadou when she found out that he was one of the descendants of the four founders of the village. He never got a say in the matter like I did. She just took him and forced it upon him."

"That's so horrible. Why didn't he just leave after he got the cadou?"

"It's difficult to explain but in the end he wasn't able to. Miranda would have hunted him down. Once we were given the cadou, whether or not we had a choice in the matter, we were forced to stay. She was also able to influence him to stay."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone takes to the cadou differently. I have a theory that those with a higher affinity to the cadou are less affected by Miranda's control. To a certain extent, Miranda controls the mold because her powers were given to her by the Black God, which is where the mold comes from. Since the cadou contains the mold, by extension Miranda has a certain amount of control over it."

"So can she control you?"

"Not necessarily. I believe she has a certain amount of influence over me, but no, she cannot control me because I have a higher affinity to it. For example, the moroaicǎ and lycans have almost no affinity to the cadou so Miranda can control them if she wanted to. In the past she has, but she generally she views them as a waste of time so she gave Karl the job of overseeing the lycans and myself the moroaicǎ."

"So how can you tell who does and doesn't have a higher affinity to it?"

"My theory is that the more mutated the subject, the less affinity they have towards it. The moroaicǎ and lycans are at the bottom, they are the most mutated and most easily controllable therefore have the lowest affinity. Next comes Salvatore, whom you haven't met yet. He is severely mutated and will do anything to please Miranda. Next I believe is Donna. Although her only mutation is on her face, she is very mentally unstable which leads me to believe that Miranda can more easily influence her."

"How is she mentally unstable?"

Alcina lets out a sigh as her fingers dance across your skin.

**"It is quite a tragic story. Many years ago, before she received the cadou, her sister, Claudia, died. Donna was very young when it happened and her parents were unable to deal with the death of their child so they committed suicide together leaving Donna all alone."

"Oh my god, that's horrible."

"It was horrific. After they died she isolated herself and developed severe depression and anxiety. When she received the cadou, she took part of hers and put it into Angie and now primarily uses Angie to speak when she's around mixed company."

"Wait, so Donna is that chaotic?"

Alcina laughs and shakes her head.

"Gods no, Donna uses Angie to speak but the cadou granted Angie her own personality. Part of me believes some of the things Angie says are the thoughts Donna would never say out loud but that is just mere speculation."

"So how do you know when it's Donna talking or Angie?"

"Donna's voice comes through Angie."

"Oh, got it."

"Yes. So because of Donna's mental illness, she is more easily influenced by Miranda but since her and I have formed and alliance that influence has been fading."

"How about you and Karl?"

"Based on my mutation theory, I would be next given," Alcina gestures to her body. "and Miranda does have some influence over me, but not much. I have retained enough of my own cognitive abilities to not fall completely under her influence. There are times where I can feel her influence and if I so chose to I can ignore it. But the pull is there."

"Is it hard to ignore?"

"In the beginning it was, but now not so much."

"Can she tell when you ignore it?"

"Yes, but only because when I do, I am not doing what she wants so she knows her influence on me has failed. Whether she knows I consciously ignore her or not is still a mystery."

"So Karl has the highest affinity to the cadou?"

"As much as I loathe to admit it, yes. Which is also why I refuse to relay this theory to him because I would never hear the end of it. But he has no visible physical mutations, at least that I am aware of. And he hates Miranda more than any of us. He refuses to do anything she asks unless it directly benefits him and he has no desire for her acceptance or approval."

"Do you have any desire for her acceptance or approval?"

Alcina pauses for a moment and you look up at her. She has a faraway look in her eyes before she looks down at you and sighs.

"Truthfully? Yes." You feel the hairs on your arms raise at her answer. Not that you're completely surprised, but hearing her say it out loud makes it real, too real. "It's complicated. There is a part of me that yearns for her acceptance. There's a part of me that's willing to do nearly anything for her. I understand how ridiculous that may sound but after so many years of being under her rule, it's difficult to not want acceptance from the person who essentially created you. And since she rarely shows her approval of anyone the thought of being one of the few becomes almost addicting. She has done a lot for me. She saved my life, although it was under false pretenses. Still, I am still alive because of her. She gifted me the girls, gave me the castle, the vineyard, and the business so I had a way of supporting myself. She has done a lot for me, for my family. In a way in feel indebted to her for those things. But at the same time I hate her. I can't stand what she's done to me, how she's manipulated me and used me over the years." She tightens her grip around you as she thinks back on her past history with Miranda. "I despise how she treats my daughters poorly. I hate that after everything I do for her, after everything I've done, she still views me the same as the rest of them. It aggravates me to no end."

"So you hate her, but at the same time you want to be her favorite? You know that sounds crazy, right?"

Alcina chuckles and rolls her eyes at you.

"I said is was complex, draga."

"Complex is an understatement." You say with a laugh.

Alcina shakes her head and runs her fingers through your hair. An unsettling energy fills the room as the two of you think about tomorrow's meeting.

"Even though I feel that pull of her influence, even though I crave her acceptance, I will never let her hurt you. I don't want you to think for a moment that I won't do everything I possibly can to protect you, draga."

"I know." You say, cuddling into her more.

"Good. Now try and get some sleep draga mea. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

Her fingers comb through your hair and you feel her nails scratching at your scalp. She holds you a little closer after pulling the duvet over the both of you.

Even though you're tired you can't seem to fall asleep. Anxiety begins to creep its was into your chest and you cling to Alcina a little tighter.

"Rest, draga. I can hear your heartbeat from a mile away."

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous."

"So am I, but you need to sleep."

"I can't."

Alcina lays you on top of her, resting your head on her chest. One of her large hands scratches at your scalp as the other traces patterns across your back.

"Close your eyes, draga mea. I have you. I will protect you, I promise."

"I know you will. And I love you so much for that."

"I love you too."

Alcina starts singing, her fingers moving perfectly in time with the song and your eyes start to flutter shut. Even though you don't know what song it is since it's in Romanian, whatever she's singing is soothing and begins to lull you to sleep.

Alcina hears your breathing and heartrate settle and knows you finally drifted off. She finds herself having a hard time falling asleep - she's too anxious about tomorrow's meeting. But the soft sounds of your snores help her to relax and a little while later she dozes off into a restful sleep.

The following morning you wake up in the same exact position you fell asleep in; laying on top of Alcina with her arms wrapped tightly around you. Alcina feels you stir in her arms and brushes the hair away from your eyes.

"Good morning, draga mea." She says with a kiss to your head.

"Good morning." You say with a yawn as you stretch out on top of her and curl back up in her arms. "Did you stay here all night or did you get up to work and pull me back on top of you when you came back to bed?"

"No, draga." She says with a chuckle. "I stayed here all night with you."

You didn't say anything in response, just a light chuckle and then you nuzzled your face into her neck. Here in bed, in her arms, it was safe. You were safe. There wasn't a single part of either of you that wanted to get out of bed this morning. Neither of you wanting to leave the comfort and safety of each others embrace. The thought of starting the day made you a little anxious but after taking a deep breath and filling you nose with the scent of Alcina's skin and shampoo, your anxiety melted away and you relaxed into her.

"Can we stay here forever?" You asked as your lips brushed against her skin while your face was buried into her neck.

"I wish, draga mea. I wish." She sighed.

Reluctantly, the two of you finally got out of bed. The meeting was taking place in the chapel at the castle shortly after breakfast so both you and Alcina started getting yourselves ready for the day.

Alcina put on her usual floor-length cream dress, leather gloves, pearls, and her hat. The two of you decided that it was best that you wore the uniform that her handmaidens normally wear. She was sure that Miranda knew the relationship between the two of you was past the point of you just being her handmaid but in order to keep appearances up you both decided wearing the uniform was the way to go.

Once Alcina was finished fixing her hair and makeup the two of you headed down to the dining room for breakfast. Just as you were walking in the girls swarmed in and appeared in their seats.

"Good morning mother!" The girls said in unison.

"Good morning daughters." She said.

You could tell the girls wanted to ask how you and Alcina were feeling about the meeting but none of them dared to. They could tell Alcina was already on edge and they didn't want to make her worse. The nerves in your belly slowly but surely began to build as the time to leave creeped closer. Even though you weren't hungry you forced yourself to eat a decent meal because you knew you were going to need the energy.

Breakfast was quiet and the tension in the air steadily built as the time passed. Every so often you would look over at Alcina and every time you did you noticed she was further and further away mentally. You could tell that her mind was heavily focused on the meeting and that the newspaper in her hand was just a front. The only reason you knew that was because she stayed on the same page throughout the entire meal yet burned through at least four cigarettes. She looked as if she was rereading the same sentence over and over again as her mind wandered. By the time breakfast was over her eyebrows were so closely knit together they nearly became one.

When the girls finished eating they all kissed their mother on the cheek and wished her luck at the meeting. Daniela and Bela gave you a hug before they left and Cassandra punched you on the shoulder and mumbled "don't die." before swarming away.

As the girls left Zina entered the dining room.

"Pardon me, my Lady." She said to Alcina, whose eyes were back on the newspaper. "Lady Beneviento and Lord Moreau have arrived."

Alcina looked up and nodded before taking a sharp inhale and putting the paper down. She took one final drag of her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray and downed the rest of her wine in one large gulp. Removing the napkin sitting on her lap, she carefully dabbed the corners of her lips and looked towards you and back to Zina.

"I made sure the chapel was stocked with extra wine. One bottle of sanguis virginis and the rest of your finest vintage, my Lady."

"Thank you Zina, your fine attention to detail never goes unnoticed."

"My pleasure, my Lady."

"Ready, draga?" Alcina asks you. You nod in response and she stands up. "We shall be off then."

As Alcina walks past Zina, Zina hands her her cigarette holder with a lit cigarette already sitting at the end. Alcina nods at Zina with a small smile and leaves. As you walk past Zina she stops you by putting her hand on your shoulder.

"Be careful." She whispers with a small squeeze before removing her hand and heading back towards the kitchen.

Alcina expertly guides you through the castle halls. Once you leave the main part of the castle you notice that the halls are less ornate. The smooth stone walls slowly turn more jagged and unkept and the cracks in the floor grow until the stones beneath your feet are uneven. You've never seen any part of the castle in such a state of despair before. Alcina doesn't say a word the entire time. The juxtaposition of her and your current surroundings is a fascinating one. Her steps are purposeful and she's as elegant as ever as she strides through her domain. Alcina is a woman of elegance, of nobility, she's a queen roaming the halls of her castle. Yet the current surroundings show evidence of disarray. The further down the hall you walk the worse it gets. Alcina would never let the main areas of the castle look like this. If a spec of dust is left behind she throws a fit. You wonder why she's allowed this area to fall apart so much, seemingly without care.

She leads you to a large door and turns towards you. As you finish taking in your surroundings you look up at her. There must have been a look of confusion on your face as you took in the crumbling walls around you because you hear Alcina sigh.

"As you know, I take pride in keeping my castle in top shape so I am sure the passageway has been rather out of the ordinary." You nod your head in response. "This side of the castle sustained extensive damage during the war and I was never able to properly conduct the repairs. The dilapidated state ended up keeping wandering maids away and it warded off unwanted visitors. It was far too much trouble to repair it and since it provided almost guaranteed privacy for these meetings I allowed it to remain in such a despicable state."

"Got it. That makes sense." You say with a small smile. Alcina returns the gesture but her smile doesn't reach her eyes.

She takes a deep breath and exhales. Her eyes stay on the floor and she looks like she is having trouble saying something.

"Are you okay?" You ask.

"Yes. I have something to ask of you, and I hate that I have to ask this of you."

"What is it?"

"In order to attempt to keep appearances up, I don't think it would be wise for you to," she pauses for a moment. "for you to call me Alcina during the meeting." She says quietly. Her eyes flick up to yours and they're filled with concern. "I know we are well past formalities but I'm worried about Miranda as it is and if she hears you call me by my given name, I fear it will make things worse."

Alcina starts to ramble a little and you take a step forward and reach out to grab her hand.

"Hey," you say, looking into her eyes. "I get it, it's okay. I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, my Lady." You say with a smirk.

Alcina releases a breath that sounds like a sigh of relief and she cups your face with her hand.

"I truly don't know what I ever did in my life to deserve you, draga mea." She whispers.

The two of you share a moment as you gaze into each others eyes. Angie's cackle rings out on the other side of the door, effectively ruining the moment the two of you were having. Alcina closes her eyes and takes a grounding breath before adjusting her posture and putting her "countess" mask back on.

"Stay by my side and do not do anything unless I give you the okay. Understand?"

"Yes, my Lady."

She nods in approval and looks at the door and back to you.

"Shall we?" She asks.

You nod in response and she pulls a key out of the band around her hat. The door unlocks with a soft "click" and swings open. Alcina returns the key and she ducks under the doorframe, making her way into the chapel.

"Here goes nothing." You think to yourself before following behind her.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu fanfic #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #re8 alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 village

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loaksky · 1 year

Text

— 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴

the lowdown — the one where neteyam acknowledges his change of heart.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 696

the tags & warnings — no warnings that i can think of!

the notes — this is a deleted scene from the hearts that bind us that i scrapped, but decided to build off of. i think it gives a little look into te'feyra as a character and her relationship to neteyam. will probably need to read the initial fic to make sense of what's happening here. more drabbles & deleted scenes to come while i finish my lo'ak x reader!

part one | masterlist | main fic

“Neteyam!”

The eldest goes rigid, wooden plate suddenly heavy in his hands as he turns slightly, seeing Te’feyra jog to catch up with him.

He takes in a deep breath, the slightest twang of annoyance niggling at the pit of his stomach as he shifts on his feet.

You’re in the tent with a healer at the moment and he’s eager to return, having been nudged out of the way as the elder pricked you with sharpened tools to draw blood and chanted over your peacefully unconscious form.

“How is she?” she asks, feline eyes wide as she peers up him.

He shifts again.

“She’s still out,” he scratches, clearing his throat, then holds up the bowl of warm soup. “Want to bring this for when she wakes up.”

Te’feyra nods, face softening as she bows her head and looks down at her wiggling toes.

“Everything alright?” he asks hesitantly, momentarily gazing over his shoulder at the entrance of the tent where Kiri comforts Tuk who seems visibly shaken by the whole ordeal.

“I just want her to be okay,” she whispers.

Neteyam swallows.

“Yeah…yeah. Me too,” he agrees.

Te’feyra looks up at that, her eyes almost glowing under the faint luminescence of the forest, stars reflected and gleaming in the gold of her irises.

“This is your sign,” she says suddenly, quietly.

“My sign?” Neteyam repeats.

“I hear you when you pray, Neteyam,” Te’feyra says, giving him a sympathetic smile. “You ask for signs, for clarity, for courage. She is your courage.”

The annoyance begins to lick in the pit of his stomach again, knowing where this conversation could be going. It’s the second one he’ll be having, the first having come after he’d confronted Lo’ak about eavesdropping in the forest the night that Te’feyra had kissed him.

To say that the younger Sully had been angry was an understatement, not only because he was being accused, but because Neteyam was digging himself deeper and deeper into a hole.

“I ask for courage to take on the responsibility of one day being the leader of this clan,” Neteyam says, trying to keep the edge from his voice, especially when she looks at him like that. “________ has little to do with that.”

Te’feyra’s browbone twitches.

“If I can be candid with you, Neteyam, I think that you are courageous about many things,” she says. “Your heart is not one of them.”

He closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath.

“Te’feyra—“

“Your parents wish for us to be together,” she says. “You may have my affections, but my feelings for you do not jade me from reality. Your heart does not belong to me and while I value my potential duty to this clan, I refuse to devote my life to a fruitless union.”

Neteyam’s blood is running hot under his skin, the bowl now lukewarm in his hold.

“When I kissed you, last night in the forest,” she starts. “What did you feel?”

Neteyam swallows around nothing, mouth pursing as he fidgets uncomfortably under the girl’s inquisitive gaze.

She smiles knowingly.

“At the end of the day, you are my dear friend, Neteyam. It doesn’t have to be this way,” she says, hand coming up to brush a braid behind his ear. “Don’t make this hurt more than it has to.”

“Everyone is so convinced that my affections for ________ run far deeper than they do,” Neteyam says, annoyed, deflecting. “Does my say have no weight?”

“No,” Te’feyra says with finality. “The yearning in your eyes do.”

Neteyam opens his mouth to protest, but Te’feyra is quick to cut him off.

“She will be your downfall if you don’t wake up, Neteyam,” she warns. “You have a strong, pure heart. Listen to it.”

He watches her, dumbfounded, as a gentle smile curls on her lips and she takes a step away from him like she hadn’t just lectured him about another woman.

“Te’feyra—“

“See you soon, Neteyam,” she bids, and she’s off before he can even argue.

When he turns, anguish evident on his face, Kiri passes him a knowing look.

He ducks into the tent, soup now cold in his hands.

an — will probably do three or four more of these over the course of the next few days! as always, requests are open so please feel welcome :)

#neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam fic #neteyam sully #neteyam drabble #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #atwow

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kit-williams · 2 months

Text

IKEA bookshelf

Male Lead(s): Your Iron Warrior & Your parents Imperial Fist Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Space Marine Husbandry Sentience Canon Status: ???

Note: Sorry for being late I'm a mom first then a writer second

I had finally moved out on my own. Finally getting a place of my own and also a tag along of my own... a Iron Warrior whom wasn't giving me a name. Was unsure if this was a bond or just a small curiosity... but either way he just helped moved me in and took some food as payment like most astartes.

"Ferrox you better not be eating the cookies!" I say as Ferrox was like a cat sometimes when it was quiet it meant he was getting up to something. I've had to scold him as since he was being very non committal with me I wasn't going to let him tinker in my house. And besides I had to get everything ready for my parents to visit.

"Ferrox no you can't thinker with that." I say as I see him pull the boxes of Ikea furniture into the main room. He says something I don't understand... I'm not bothering with learning Gothic until he decides to stay with me or not. But I can see his frown as if he is asking why he can't help with that. "My parents are visiting." You say and he just responds back not wanting to listen.

Before I can try to get him out the doorbell rings and I head over opening the door. "Mom, Dad, Kester!"

Ferrox paused as he could hear the unmistakable gait of another space marine.

I could hear Ferrox walk up behind me as I was giving Kester a hug and then I could hear Ferrox growling... like legitimately growling. "No No no!" I say as Kester moves between my parents and me and Ferrox. Kester was out of armor while Ferrox was in armor so if a fight went down Kester would be at a disadvantage.

"You should have told us you got an Iron Warrior." My dad says a little disappointedly.

"Yeah well he comes and goes as he pleases I don't even know if we're bonded and I just happened to be the current person who has been taking care of the local feral Iron Warrior." I say as I jostle to get around the wall that is Kester.

"BOYS!" I shout causing both of them to look at me. "Okay either you have to leave Ferrox or you both have to get along. So stop growling at Kestor... now." I say glaring up at the Iron Warrior who to my surprise acquiesces. I move inside as he is frowning at the furniture now knowing why I got it.

Lucky for me I bring the piece of furniture to the spare room which has several boxes. I give Ferrox some of those cookies he was eying as he broods. I'm far too busy to notice how he slips away into the room Kestor is in... I'm too busy drinking wine with my mom and dad to notice the two spaces marines slip out of the apartment to only return with spare lumber and paint... and a lot of other items that should have all been found inside of the Ikea boxes.

I pause coming out of the bathroom as I hear both Kestor and Ferrox in the room and go to open the door before Ferrox pushes the door closed.

"What is it little one?" Kestor says slowly through the door.

"Was just making sure you two are getting along... are you enjoying building the furniture?"

"Yes little one we have come to a truce. We are fo- um we are working together." Kestor says switching his words after a mysterious thump. I was worried about what they were getting up to.

"You're not building like a bug out shelter or something are you?" I feel the need to ask.

"No." I hear two voices rumble and I just nod to myself.

"So what are the boys up to." My dad asks.

"Building. Seems they formed a truce and are working together... which means I have no idea what the room is going to look like afterwards." I say with a sigh as I don't hear any powertools or anything so maybe they are just building the furniture.

Eventually the two come out of the room and seem a bit more friendly with each other but Ferrox is keeping me out from looking as Kestor allows my parents to look but not me.

"Alright sweetheart we're going to go back to the hotel." My dad says before kissing my cheek as I give them both a hug and kiss and doing the same for Kestor.

Once they are all gone I look at Ferrox whom this is the first time he's stayed so long. "Alright show me what you two did."

I open up the guest room door holding my breath as I look at the room. The furniture looks wildly different from what I had gotten... I don't think a single piece was built in the way it was suppose to be but it was all laid out so very nicely... I don't remember buying a book self... I'm pretty sure there were dressers... I raise an eyebrow as I realize they brought in outside wood and pieces. I chuckle softly.

I lean against him and do my best to wrap an arm around his waist, "Thank you Ferrox. What you and Kestor did means a lot to me." Of course Ferrox preens under my praise. And does more preening as I walk around the room looking at each piece of furniture.

Fluffuary Tag list: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

#warhammer 40k #fluffuary #fluffuary2024 #iron warrior #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #imperial fist

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spirit-lanterns · 6 months

Note

YES EMBRACE THE BRAINROT THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES

I feel like we would find out about the whole shipping thing because we would see our name trending on twt and be like 😯... which then results in a bit more digging

Reader would then probably either:

1.) Be oblivious ("wow, our fans must really like our friendship! 😊" we say while watching a very obviously romantic edit in which it has one of our costars literally gazing at us with the most adoring eyes)

Or 2.) Be very amused, and decide to fuel the shipping wars even more (ex. Liking/reposting a ship edit of one costar on purpose but then on the same day openly flirting with another costar online 💀💀 I like to think that whenever we're bored we like to search up "team [insert ship]" and giggle to ourselves watching both sides fight to the death while knowing full well that we caused this 😭😭)

.. also not to even mention the hsr woman's reaction to all of this.. I feel like some would be too embarrassed about the situation to interact with that side of the fandom and end up blocking every single tag about it, and then we have others who have an entire folder of every single edit (of the ship or of just us 🤭🤭) and have a secret account where they like to engage in shipping arguments (tho I feel like kafka just uses her main account no shame at all 💀💀)

OUGHHHH THESE ARE ALL SUPER GOOD IDEAS ANON 💕

I’d like to think that the Reader is a bit of a tease and is very aware that her fans go crazy with the amount of tension she has with so many female colleagues. After seeing all these romantic and cheesy edits with various costars from films or red carpet events, she decides to fuel the fire by like, subtly grasping the hand of Serval, or making a kissy face towards Himeko in an attempt to fluster her.

Your fan base would go wild over these scenes, and any footage of you with any of your costars goes viral in a matter of minutes. Not to mention if any of your costars retweets/comments under these videos like “Wish Reader was holding my hand instead 👀” Ough, your fandom goes nuts! :O

And of course, like you said with Kafka, she seems like the type to openly like and comment under your #TeamKafka edits and act all nonchalant like “oh yeah, Reader and I had a blast on this set. Can’t wait to work with her again 💕” and the use of heart emojis has everyone screaming…

#🕯️spirit box #celebrity au

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avanatural · 1 year

Text

That Simple

Part 9

Series summary: Beau goes to Y/N, a new friend of his, for some dating advice. Is the charming new Sheriff gonna get the date that he’s hoping for?

Pairing: Beau Arlen x female Reader

Category: Fluff, angst, smut, 18+

Word count: 4k

Chapter warnings: Mentions of blood and stab wounds, mentions of kidnapping and homicide, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (Wrap it up!), hurt!sex, cursing

A/N: This chapter contains smut! Do not proceed if you’re under the age of 18! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Beau tag list? Send me an ask! ❤️

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Beau Arlen Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Oh, fuck,” Y/N cussed to herself, pinning some fabric between her fingers. She straightened out her dress and assessed the damage. There was a huge stain of bleach on the black-and-white checkered material. Great. She hadn’t heard from Beau all day, and everything else was going to hell, too.

Ever since she’d left her bed that morning with puffy eyelids and an exhausted mind, Y/N had sent multiple texts to the Sheriff. But he hadn’t responded to a single one of her messages. It wasn’t like Beau, not getting back to her. It wasn’t like him at all, even after their… Argument? Disagreement? Falling out? She didn’t even know what to call it. She’d been acting distracted, inattentive, and clumsy all day. As soon as she closed up her salon that night, she was going to drive up to his trailer, that was for sure.

“Hey, you okay?”, Charlotte, one of her employees, asked, coming up behind her.

Y/N jumped, muscles tightening in surprise. As soon as she caught sight of Charlotte’s signature pink hair, she recognized whose palm had landed on her back. She relaxed visibly and leaned against the front desk. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” Charlotte took a look around, discreetly making sure that none of the customers were listening to them. “You seem pretty shaken up,” she continued more quietly.

Y/N shook her head and smiled at her fellow hairdresser as reassuringly as she could. “I’m fine.”

Charlotte briefly narrowed her eyes at Y/N, but ultimately decided not to push it. “I think your cellphone just rang,” she said, pointing her thumb in the break room’s direction.

Before Y/N could get out a single word in response, the telephone on the front desk started to ring. As soon as the shrill sound traveled through her ears, a sense of dread settled deep in her gut. She knew instantly that something was wrong. After the second ring, she abruptly picked up the speaker, beating Charlotte to it. She even forwent any introductions, instead going straight for a “Hello?”

Charlotte could hardly make out the hushed mumbling coming from the other end of the line. But she could clearly see the perplexed twitch of Y/N’s brow, and the tearful frown that followed.

“Yeah. What? What happened?”, Y/N asked, gaze nervously jumping back and forth between the computer and the day planner on the front desk. “I’ll be right there. Give me ten minutes, tops.” With fright in her chest, she hung up the phone and hurried through the salon to the break room, her hair bouncing with each of her steps.

Charlotte’s forehead crinkled with bewilderment as she followed her boss. When she entered the break room, Y/N was tossing her belongings into her bag. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Instead of giving any details, Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder. “Could you cancel my last appointments for the day?”

“What?”

“I gotta go. Now.”

“Emergency?”

“Yeah.” Y/N was already headed for the back door, in the greatest hurry of her life. Looking back, she threw one last glance Charlotte’s way. “It’s Beau.”

“Hi,” Y/N huffed, out of breath after climbing up the hospital stairs to the fifth floor. The elevator had been too packed with people and she couldn’t get to Beau fast enough. Her concern was spiraling from the tips of her jumpy feet up to her throbbing head. Her stomach turned like she was going to be sick all over the dirty white tiles.

The young man at the front desk looked up from the computer and met Y/N’s gaze. “Hello. How can I help you?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here to pick up-“

“Sheriff Arlen,” the young man responded, eyes twinkling with recognition. “He’s a talker, that one. He, uh, he’s really sorry he messed up.”

“What- I-“ She paused and subtly shook her head, unable to put her thoughts into order. “Where is he?”

“If you round that corner, you’ll find him waiting in the corridor.”

“Thank you.” After sending a grateful nod his way, Y/N turned her back and followed the young man’s instructions. As soon as she rounded the corner, she spotted a row of chairs against the wall.

The Sheriff was sitting on one of the chairs in the back of the empty corridor. He was wearing the denim button-down that Y/N loved so much. Crimson blood stains were scattered across the blue fabric, and part of the material that was supposed to cover his left shoulder was missing. A thick layer of bandages peeked through the hole.

When her footsteps echoed through the hallway, Beau lifted his head. Their gazes met, prompting him to get up on his feet. He didn’t move beyond that, didn’t move a muscle. All he could do was observe her. He felt guilty, ashamed, and so damn thankful, too. He didn’t know what to do. How would she react?

Y/N gave Beau a once-over. Aside from the messy stab wound in his shoulder, he seemed to be fine. Relief seeped into her aching heart and her face contorted, eyes prickling with salty tears. Before she knew it, her boots where speeding along the colorless corridor. When her body met his, everything else around her faded into a big black hole of nothing, losing all its meaning. All that mattered was the injured man before her.

When her front bumped into Beau’s torso, he remained still, startled by the sudden hug. If he hadn’t been given painkillers, the impact surely would have hurt worse than it did. After a second of processing her reaction, an immense flood of comfort kicked in, breaking down his walls and making him slump forward. His unscathed arm wound around her, pressing her into his chest. What the corridor lacked in color and warmth, Y/N breathed right back into him. “Thank you,” he rumbled into her hair, “For comin’. I didn’t know if you’d-“

“Of course, I came,” she spoke firmly and pulled back just far enough to look up into his shiny candy green eyes. “I dropped everything the second they reached me. I got so scared that I just-“

Before another word could escape her, her lips were occupied by Beau’s plump ones. He cupped her jaw with his right palm and caressed her mouth with his own. As they broke apart, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you’re ‘ere.”

Her body leaned forward, making her forehead press harder against Beau’s, her soul melting right into his. “Me, too.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry, too.” A few moments passed, filled with utter silence, until Y/N found it in herself to break their little bubble of reunion bliss. “What happened?”

“Some asshole thought he could take me out.” Tenderly, Beau let his thumb swipe across her cheek. He gave her a somber, heart-stopping smile, conveying his stream of emotions with a single curl of his lips. “He was damn wrong about that.”

”He was,” Y/N agreed. As soon as his touch slipped from her face, she took hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The Helena sun had set, and it was getting breezy outside.

“Thank you. For takin’ me home.” Beau’s brown boots hit the wooden porch that led up to his homey trailer.

“Thank you for letting them call me,” Y/N replied as the two of them came to a natural halt.

“It was, uh…” Beau scratched the arch of his eyebrow. “It was actually Hoyt who made ‘em call you. I didn’t have the damn guts.“ He sighed, his eyes haunted by regret. “I wanted to text you all day, you know? I was gonna swing by the salon during your break. I had this… Whole apology thing planned out. Then a homicide got called in. We tried to solve the case…. And I got stabbed and had to be sewed up.“ He proceeded to roll his eyes, mentally cursing himself for not doing a better job, both at being the Sheriff and Y/N’s partner. “Instead of makin’ it up to you, I get in contact with you because I need something? That’s a dick move.”

“Beau, if you need me, I’m there, no matter what happened between us.” When he attempted to avert his gaze, she crossed the invisible threshold into his personal space. She took his scruffy jaw between her palms and made him look at her. “You hear me? You’re stuck with me, handsome.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, subconsciously leaning into her touch.

“I don’t deserve you,” she retorted, her tone shuddering with remorse as her hands fell from his jaw, “God, I was being such an idiot.”

“So was I.” Beau’s lips morphed into the gentlest of smiles, his fingers reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m so glad you’re okay, sweetheart. That’s all I should’ve said to you last night.”

“It’s alright.” Her hand landed on top of his, keeping his affection glued to her cheek, “You were just worried.”

“You stopped that robber, which should be all that matters, but…” His jaw clenched as he tried to keep his emotions at bay. “When I close my eyes, all I can see is you, trapped in his hold, and I just…” He stopped, incapable of finding words that could do justice to just how gut-wrenching his fear of losing Y/N was. Angry droplets of salt welled up in his eyes as he recalled the way she’d been held hostage. “I woulda done anything to get you outta there safely. Anything.”

Her eyebrows drew together shakily. Her mouth delivered a pained smile. “I know.”

When his tears threatened to cross the edge, he cleared his throat in defense and stepped away. He tilted his head toward his trailer and proceeded to change the topic. “You wanna come in? We could, uh, Netflix and chill.” With all his heart, he prayed that she was going to say yes. That she was not going to leave him just yet.

“I don’t think that means what you think it means,” she said, her smile turning from pained to amused. All Beau did in response was squint at her in the cutest, most confused way. “I’d love to,” she added sincerely.

“That simple, huh?”

“That simple.” With her spirits a dancing a little higher, she followed her partner into his trailer. Right away, she was hit with a feeling of comfort and ease. They were safe. And they were together.

“Let’s see…,” Beau said as he bent down and opened the small fridge in the kitchen area. “Can I, uh, interest you in some… Cheap Beer? Water? Expired yogurt?”

Y/N’s chin almost met her chest as she looked down and grinned to herself. “Maybe we should’ve gone to my place instead.”

Twirling on his feet, he turned back around. “What are you sayin’?”

“I’m saying that I don’t wanna go separate ways tonight. Or tomorrow. I wanna spend as much time with you as I can.” She searched his eyes, trying to gauge his reaction. “If that’s okay.”

“Hell, yes.” Beau’s instant approval struck Y/N like a love spell. “After last night…,” he trailed off and cleared his throat again. “It’s, uh, it’s more than okay.” A charming smirk grew on his ample mouth, bringing the light back to his face. “But we gotta go grocery shopping first thing tomorrow. My girl deserves better than cheap beer and expired yogurt.”

Y/N was in the safest place in the world. Dressed in one of his t-shirts, she melted into Beau’s grasp, straight into the love he radiated.

His arm was folded loosely around her middle, mindful of the deep wound in his shoulder. He was her big spoon, keeping her tucked against his chest, fearing that her presence was only a dream. Fearing that she would disappear into thin air if he didn’t hold on.

“I missed you,” she breathed into the darkness of his trailer.

“Missed you, too.” The tip of Beau’s nose snaked along her shoulder and up behind her ear.

The pads of Y/N’s fingers drew random patterns on his forearm. The previous night, which had been cold and lonely, made her value their exchange of warm touches all the more. “You haven’t told me what happened today.” When her partner didn’t respond right away, she waited patiently for him to take his time.

Silently, Beau relived the bloodcurdling case he’d solved alongside Jenny that day. After releasing a sigh from the depths of his lungs, he spoke up. “A teenager was kidnapped. The guy was plannin’ to abduct her since she was just a kid. He killed her mom, drugged the girl, and took her to a room that was hidden in the walls of his house.”

The little hairs on the back of Y/N’s neck stood up in shock. “Oh my God, that’s horrifying. Is she okay?”

“We got to her in time,” was all he said. Inching forward, he pressed himself more tightly against her back, intensifying their embrace. He didn’t want Y/N to ruminate about the viciousness of humanity. Beau had done nothing but that all day, and it had exhausted him. That night, all he wanted was to get away from the horrors that made up his daily life. Lucky for him, the woman in his arms was his antidote.

“The guy stabbed you.”

“Don’t think about what could’ve happened. All that matters is that we’re ‘ere together.” He planted a kiss in her hair. A kiss on her shoulder. A kiss on her neck. “Two idiots in love, right?”

A sudden, honest chuckle broke free from Y/N’s lungs. It felt foreign, leaving her body like that. She suddenly realized she hadn’t laughed all day. “Exactly right.” Craning her neck backwards, she eagerly connected her mouth to his. The touch of his lips on hers was a breath of fresh air after being confined in searing uncertainty all day.

“Hmm,” he hummed. His calloused palm spread across her cheek, keeping her head in place to return her feverish kiss. He loved it when she took the lead kissing him. She was like a lioness pouncing on her bait, which was his ultimate kryptonite. Beau felt himself grow hard, soon straining against his boxers.

Y/N noticed his undeniable arousal and ground herself back into him. His grunt vibrated into her mouth, making her head spin. She needed to touch him, feel him, be connected with him in every way imaginable. Overcome with mischief, she reached back to rub the bulge in his boxers.

The Sheriff had to break away from her to drag some air into his lungs. “You’re drivin’ me crazy,” he confessed, breath fanning her face.

Her blossoming need for intimacy set her insides ablaze. Her arousal flourished so fast that she felt like she was going to implode if her partner didn’t fill her up soon. “I want you,” she whispered to him.

Her whisper resembled a sweet symphony – music to Beau’s ears. “Want you, too.” Despite the stinging sensation in his shoulder, he strengthened his grip on her cheek, hooking his fingers into some of her hair to pull her close for another heated kiss.

As his tongue claimed hers, Y/N giggled, stomach fluttering wildly at his enthusiasm. “What about your injury?”, she husked, voice hushed by his fierce lips on hers.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

Then, after Y/N had wriggled out of her t-shirt and underwear, she helped Beau do the same.

“Come ‘ere, beautiful.” His arm reclaimed its place around Y/N’s torso, tugging her back against his front. His aching arm was bent across her side, his forearm pressed between her breasts, his hand spread across her heart.

When he entered her from behind, he was careful. Gentle. When his devoted lips attached to her neck and distracted her through the burn, he was patient. Calm. When he began to thrust, it was slow. Loving. But when he tightened his arm around her to drag her back into his thrusts, he flinched.

His wince landed right in her ear, alerting her. “Beau… Take it slow, alright? I don’t want you to hurt.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed a sweet peck to her cheek and picked his lazy thrusts back up. Anything to please her.

But Y/N couldn’t relax. She couldn’t enjoy their connection knowing he was in pain. There was no way she could ignore his discomfort. “Beau, stop.” Her fingers dug into his forearm, making him cease his thrusts.

“You okay?”, he whispered into her ear.

It was so characteristic of Beau to ignore his own needs and focus on his loved ones instead. This time though, Y/N wouldn’t let him. She pushed her hips forward and rolled over, causing him to slip out of her. As she faced him, she could faintly see the beautiful outline of his finely chiseled features, illuminated by the moonlight. He truly was a work of art. “Lie on your back,” she said.

Staring back at her in the dark, he admired the faded view of her angelic face for another lasting second. Once his back was resting against the mattress, his arms sprawled out by his sides, she climbed onto him, straddling his toned thighs.

“What are you doin’?”, he wondered.

“I’m gonna do the work.” Her palm met the patch of skin that covered his heart. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he replied even before she’d completely finished her question.

His instant response made Y/N smile to herself. She sat up on her knees and positioned herself above his erection. When she slowly sank down on him, taking him in inch by inch, the couple hissed in unison.

Beau’s left arm remained by his side, granting his injured shoulder some rest. His right arm bent at the elbow, his hand clawing at Y/N’s hip.

“Better?”, she asked.

“So much better,” he grunted openly. His head sank further into the pillow as he surrendered to his arousal, to the feeling of raw bliss. To Y/N.

Once she’d adjusted to his size, she began rotating her hips. His shallow breaths became hers, and her quiet moans became his. His carnal sounds served as a manual on how to please him. A deep sigh? Keep circling those hips in a drawn-out forever symbol. A low groan? Slide down harder when rolling them forward. An unfiltered curse word? Jackpot. Repeat whatever it was that made him lose his grip on himself.

Slow sex had never felt as satisfying to Y/N. Maybe it was the fact that her heart was overflowing with love for Beau. Or maybe it was the fact his voice alone was sexy enough to send her tumbling to the edge. Maybe it was the fact that he was so deep inside of her that she lost every last rational bit of herself.

Beau’s long fingers kept clenching and unclenching around Y/N’s hip. With each roll of her hips, the arrow whose tip was coated with his release got closer and closer to hitting the bullseye. But he wasn’t ready to shoot just yet.

The Sheriff placed the soles of his feet on the mattress, causing his legs to bent, knees pointing at the ceiling. Y/N was propelled forward in the process and pushed a surprised gasp from her lungs. She chuckled and propped her hands against the trailer’s wall for stability.

Beau circled his unscathed arm around her waist and used his new-found leverage to thrust up into Y/N while she shoved herself down on him. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed through the trailer, and the windows started to fog up.

“Fuck…” The muscles in his thighs tensed, and so did his arm that was gripping Y/N. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna-“

“Go ahead”, she panted, “I’m right behind you.”

“I’m gonna-“ He dropped his right arm from around her, letting go. “Fuck, I’m gonna come inside you if you don’t move.”

She scooped up his hand, guided it to her lips and kissed the back. “Do you wanna come inside me?”

“Is the sky blue?”, he retorted, baring his teeth with a grin.

Y/N laughed freely and pinned Beau’s wrist to the pillow, next to his head. She bent down and grazed his mouth with her own. “Alright, then.”

“You sure?”, he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She skimmed her feathery lips along his bearded cheek until she was met with his earlobe. “I wanna feel all of you,” she muttered into his ear and felt his thighs tremble against her ass.

When she started to move up and down his manhood again, the swollen tip was trapped between her inner walls so tightly that it took Beau’s breath away. The thought of coming inside her drove him wild, making his hips rock into her of their own accord. A layer of sweat gathered between them as they slid against each other’s skin.

Y/N’s grip wandered from Beau’s wrist to his palm. She interlaced their fingers and pressed the back of his hand into the pillow. She let the jerks of his hips guide her and slammed herself down on his lap, lust shooting through her veins. Her upper body remained in a hunched position, giving her the freedom to adorn his lips with kisses.

Beau was so close to spilling his seed that he could barely hold back. And he could tell that Y/N was just as close when she buried her face against his neck, panting into the crook. She was shaking above him, her thighs quivering, her pussy gripping him hard.

The Sheriff wriggled his hand out of her grasp and thumbed her clit, rubbing it in circular motions. “God, you feel so good,” he all but grunted, voice strained and muffled by her hair.

“Come with me, baby,” Y/N moaned, “Come with me. Want you to fill me up.”

Her sultry words served his green light on a platter. When he shot his load into her, the pleasure was so intense that he checked out for a second, his vision resembling a grey, flickering tv screen. Static. Y/N’s cries sounded far-away for a while, overshadowed by the exceptional sensation of his swollen member pulsating inside of her.

Y/N, too, felt like she was drowning in arousal. All she could do was hold on while the current swept her away and took her straight to pleasure island. The fact that Beau was emptying himself into her, the feel of his warm release entering her body, it fulfilled her more than she could have ever imagined.

Then, once Beau had given her all the had to give, the sounds came back to him, returning back to normal, and he got to enjoy the hoarseness of her crying out his name once more.

Y/N’s muscles clenched excitedly a few more times before she stopped moving her hips. Her torso went limp on top of Beau’s, completely spent. Her pussy throbbed with the aftermath of what had to be one of the most powerful orgasms she’d ever had.

Gently, the Sheriff brushed back her hair, so he could have a proper look at her face. “You okay there?”, he inquired, a tinge of amusement coloring his voice as he studied her tired expression.

“If I get down, I’m gonna make a mess,” she chuckled.

“Mhh, that’s okay.” His smiling lips puckered and met the crown of her head.

“Are you alright?”

“Awesome.”

“Your shoulder?”

“It’s okay, darlin’. I’ve had worse.”

The two of them remained cuddled up in their own shared universe for a few more minutes. They passed breaths and kisses back and forth until Y/N’s limbs cooled down and began to shiver.

“I’ll be right back.” On wobbly legs, she climbed off and stood up to retrieve a washcloth. She could feel his release trickle down her inner thighs, and was unable to wipe the grin off her face.

Beau wore a toothy smirk of his own, watching in awe as the moon shone a light on her nude body. She looked like a statue of a Goddess, like a beautiful painting that was brought to life with precise, divine strokes of a magical paintbrush. He whistled at her, causing her to peek over her shoulder with a bright, lighthearted smile.

It was then that it hit him – together, they could conquer anything.

Tag list: @spnwoman @waynes-multiverse @akshi8278 @aria725 @deansbbyx @mrsjenniferwinchester @waywardnerd67 @promiscuousbarnes @may85 @mimi-luvzyu @ginabaker1666 @daisythekitty @sarahgracej @j-worlds-blog @maggiegirl17 @bellarkeselection @nerdyreaderpapi @lacilou @queensgirl718 @leigh70 @deanswaywardgirl @tmb510 @roseblue373 @iamsapphine @ghostofjoharvelle @winchester-girl67 @raisinggray @caribbeangal

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen #beau arlen imagine #big sky imagine #beau x reader #beau x you #beau arlen fluff #beau arlen smut

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magicshopaholic · 1 year

Text

Voice Of An Angel (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: Namjoon can't stop thinking about the girl that let him have the last copy of his favourite Murakami novel.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 3.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, references to alcohol, dirty talk, references to kissing, fingering, nipple play, sex, phone sex, masturbation, intoxication

A/N: It's been inexcusably long since a Namjoon x Kaya fic came out and I take full blame for it. But since a few readers have requested a flashback fic, here it is! This takes place a few days after Namjoon and Kaya meet for the first time in Seoul and can be read standalone.

Tagging: @bbl32, @meirkive, @quarter-life-crisis2, @dreaming-with-happiness, @whoisbts, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: “clouds” by BØRNS

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

“Play the track again.”

Yoongi wordlessly hits the spacebar and the music plays, the deep bass thrumming through the floor. Namjoon taps his foot to the rhythm from where he’s sitting on the edge of the sofa. The home studio doesn’t have the expanse of equipment that the Big Hit studio does, but after a tiring month, all seven of them seem to be content not stepping out of the dorm for anything work-related.

He pushes his tongue into his chin, frowning as he tries to listen for it, but it never comes. “Okay, stop.”

“It’s sounding flat,” states Yoongi, leaning back in the chair. “The bass isn’t strong enough.”

Namjoon nods, knowing he’s right, but also at a loss for what to do to make it stronger. He goes through three different options in his mind, picturing how each of them would sound, wanting to get a mental read of it before suggesting anything. Just then the door opens and Taehyung saunters in, slippers scraping against the carpeted floor.

“What’s going on?”

“Oi, listen to this and tell me what you think,” says Yoongi suddenly, playing the track from the beginning. Namjoon watches Taehyung carefully for his reaction, albeit getting none as the younger member listens with a straight face. His hair is messy, the blue dye already fading away at the roots where his natural dark is beginning to show. Once the track ends, Taehyung looks between him and Yoongi.

“Is this track for me?” he asks, tone betraying nothing.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and turns back to the laptop while Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “Does that mean it’s good?” he asks, slightly wary.

Taehyung considers this. “It sounds…” He frowns, eyes glazing over as he looks for an appropriate word. “... contemplative,” he decides finally.

“Contemplative,” repeats Namjoon.

“I told you Hobi’s the right person to ask,” says Yoongi dryly, continuing to modify the settings of the track.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taehyung asks, sounding affronted.

“Contemplative doesn’t help.”

“Then what kind of opinion were you looking for?”

“Something we can actually work with.”

“How can you not work with -”

“What do you need?” Namjoon interrupts, seeing that this discussion is going nowhere.

Taehyung’s head whips to look at him, as though just remembering his original purpose. “Oh. Uh… Jungkook told me he had ramen and pork belly for lunch.”

When he offers nothing more, Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “So did we.”

“There’s none left, though.”

“No, there isn’t. You slept through lunch.”

Taehyung nods, deep in thought. Then -

“Is there any pork belly left? In the fridge?”

Yoongi nods, not looking up from the screen. “Yeah, one packet.” When no one speaks, he turns around, apparently finally working out why Taehyung is here. “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Yes,” he answers, unashamed. “Will you?”

Shaking his head slightly, Yoongi stands up and stretches. “It might be good to take a break, Namjoon,” he suggests, before turning to walk out the door, Taehyung hanging onto his back, a satisfied smile on his handsome face.

Namjoon waves his hand as they leave, knowing Yoongi will probably cook, eat, take a walk and possibly have a smoke before he returns. Taking his vacated seat at the desktop, he clicks on the track again. He can’t hear a single new thing, inspiration evading him, and he groans in frustration before pausing it. He leans back in the chair, rubbing his eyes before picking up his phone to check his notifications. One name catches his eye and he perks up slightly, swiping to open it.

Kaya [16:34]

Apparently there are some vacation spots without pictures of famous people but Jeju Island is not one of them.

Along with the message is a picture of a Polaroid, showing him and an older gentleman smiling into the camera. He recognises his own signature scrawled at the bottom, with a thumb tack at the top of the photo.

Smiling after what feels like hours, Namjoon types out a reply.

Namjoon [17:25]

Haha, I remember this place. They had the best lamb skewers.

He waits for the blue tick, but nothing happens. He sees then that she’d messaged him nearly an hour ago and he deflates, disappointed. He places his phone to the side and continues staring at his laptop, willing for something, anything to strike him.

His eyes roam around aimlessly, falling on the bonsai on his table. Kaya had taken it in her hand when she’d come over a couple of days ago; she’d brought it over to the table but in the midst of what had transpired next, both of them had forgotten to put it back on the shelf.

Namjoon bites his lip at the memory, his mind landing on the one thing he’d thought about more than he’d like to admit. He hadn’t quite believed she would come over when he’d asked - although inviting her had been quite unusual on his part as well. His only rationale was that she wasn’t going to be a permanent fixture in his life so it didn’t matter. Plus, even though she knew by then who he was, it was clear she hadn’t quite grasped just what it meant, which he was glad for.

He wonders for the first time if that’s the reason she chose to come, that it was just a temporary thing. A summer fling, she’d said, and he had to agree.

His stomach flips unexpectedly at the thought, for she’s objectively a great summer fling to have. A foreigner, intelligent, pretty, with good conversational skills. Dating for him is hard enough as it is, even keeping aside the fame angle. But every time he’s met her so far - at the bookstore, the park, the dorm - time has flown by faster than he would like. She’s managed to give him the distinct feeling of being surprised yet relieved at the fact that she exists at all - even if it is halfway across the world from him.

“Just a summer fling, Namjoon,” he mutters to himself, stretching again, just as his phone pings. His heart leaps when he sees a reply from the aforementioned summer fling.

Kaya [17:33]

I don’t know about lamb skewers but Jieun and I did try every cocktail they had to offer.

Namjoon [17:34]

You went out for drinks with your aunt?

Kaya [17:35]

I did. And it’s a lot easier now that I’m legal, instead of when she used to come home from college and sneak me sips of her beer.

Namjoon [17:36]

Interesting. How much did the legality help today?

Kaya [17:37]

Well, it’s almost six pm and I’m in bed trying to sober up. Oh and I can’t be bothered to turn on the light so it’s also dark.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, not expecting this. He begins typing out a response before pausing. Hesitating momentarily, he calls her.

Kaya answers on the second ring. “I know I didn’t ask, but thank you for calling,” is the first thing she says.

He grins, her voice sounding familiar and exciting at once. “I figured it might hurt to look at the screen,” he explains.

She groans softly. “It does. God, I knew I shouldn’t have had that last mojito,” she complains, and he pictures her massaging her temple as she lies in bed.

“How drunk are you on a scale of one to ten?” he asks, surprised at the genuine concern in his own voice, but glad to hear the amusement in it, too.

“Um, a solid five,” she answers carefully. “So it’s not that bad but I can’t sleep it off either because I have to go to dinner soon…” She sighs. “Jack didn’t think it would be appropriate for Jae-lin to see her mother and sister drunk off their asses so we’ve been sent to sober up before we meet up again. Separately.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Good dad,” he remarks.

“Yeah. Irresponsible aunt, though. But I’m almost twenty-five so I don’t think I can blame her for decisions like this anymore.” She giggles unexpectedly before groaning again, softly, and his stomach flips. “What are you doing?” she asks after a moment.

He sighs inwardly and looks at the laptop screen again, now with his photo gallery screensaver appearing and bouncing around the screen. “Trying to work on this one song…” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Not making a lot of headway, though.”

“No?” She’s quiet for a moment. “Music producers have off days, too?”

“Yeah, we have our off days,” he confirms, rolling his eyes but smiling anyway. “It’s the same song I was working on when you came over.”

“You mean when I distracted you?”

Namjoon bites back a grin. “Yeah. Guess I have you to blame for this. Every time I try to remember what I was doing, I get distracted.”

“Have you tried to remember it a lot?” she teases, voice slightly quieter now. “Because I have.”

His throat feels dry. “Yeah?”

“M-hm. Don’t tell Jungkook, but I kind of really hate him a bit. Hey, tell me something,” she says abruptly. “Why’s it called a bias?”

Namjoon frowns, thrown. “Uh - why is what called a bias?”

“Like, your favourite k-pop member in a band. Apparently it’s called a bias,” she explains. “Jae-lin told me.”

“Oh.” He understands now. “I’m not sure. I think it’s because you’re biased towards one person?”

“No, I think it stands for something,” she disagrees, sounding rather invested. “Although your thing sounds more correct, though.”

He nods. “Why were you and Jae-lin talking about biases anyway?”

“Oh, it was nothing. I mentioned your friend Jungkook and she - well, she kind of lost it at first,” she amends, and he can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “But then she said he was really cute but her bias is someone else.”

“Oh? Who?” Namjoon asks, mildly curious.

“It was… okay, I don’t remember his name,” she says sheepishly. “But she did say he has a great voice. Very deep, apparently.”

“Ah, okay. Taehyung, I’m guessing.”

“Probably. She said he looked ethereal. And I remember this specifically because I swear she used this word, like, eight times in two minutes.”

Namjoon laughs, not finding it worth mentioning that the ethereal member is currently loitering around the kitchen, unshowered and hungry, as he enlists an older member to provide him sustenance. “She’s a kid,” is all he says. “Who’s your bias, by the way?”

Kaya laughs and his stomach does a backflip again. “I know exactly three names from your band right now.”

“But you’ve hooked up with only one.”

“M-hm. Doesn’t that give you an unfair advantage?”

“Is it my fault we met first?” he questions, leaning back in his chair, suddenly missing her greatly. “I think I’ve earned the advantage.”

“Well…” She pretends to think it over and he pictures it again: her, lying alone on a hotel bed, possibly in a dress she wore to lunch, shoes still on, wavy hair spread out over a creamy pillow in the twilight. He wonders if her hair still smells of that same scent, like an unsweetened dessert. “Jungkook doesn’t seem like he’s older than twenty, and I can’t compete with my cousin for the ethereal one,” she lists, “which leaves me with… you.”

Namjoon bites his lip, realising for the first time just how much he was waiting for her to say that. “Just me,” he agrees quietly.

“You…” She’s quiet for a few seconds and he wonders if she’s feeling the same anticipation he is. “Did it annoy you?” she asks eventually. “Thursday?”

He frowns slightly. “You coming over? Of course not.”

“No. Us getting interrupted.”

Namjoon exhales. “Come on, you know it did,” he murmurs. “I kind of hate Jungkook a little bit, too.”

She giggles again, softly, and he swallows. “Did you, um…” She trails off. “No, I can’t ask you this,” she mutters after a moment.

“What?”

He imagines her shaking her head. “No, it’s too… I mean, you don’t really know me that well and… forget it.”

“Kaya.” Namjoon says nothing more, just her name as gently as possible, as deeply as possible. He isn’t oblivious to the sound of his own voice, just like he knows he isn’t imagining her sharp intake of breath. “Tell me.”

“Okay. Let it be on the record that I’m only saying this because I’m intoxicated…” She hesitates, and his heart races in anticipation. “... but I definitely needed a cold shower when I got home that day.”

Silence. Namjoon slowly closes his eyes before letting his free hand crawl to his crotch to check - yep, he’s already sporting a semi. “You and me both,” he confesses after a moment, sighing.

“Yeah?” She sounds surprised at his admittance.

“Yeah. Right after you left, actually.”

“Oh.” There’s another pause. Namjoon thinks he can guess where this is heading, and his cock twitches at the prospect, but he doesn’t want to jump the gun. He waits for her to continue. “What did you think about?”

He’s prepared for this. “Everything I wanted to do before we got interrupted.”

She takes a deep breath that makes his toes curl. “Which was what?”

“You want me to tell you?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Every detail,” she confirms quietly.

If this goes to shit, you can just never see her again. “How drunk are you?” he asks after a moment.

“Not so drunk that I won’t be able to picture it.” Her boldness is enough of an indicator of some inebriation, but he guesses if she’s sober enough to give her consent, he’s good to go.

“You want me to tell you what I would’ve done if Jungkook hadn’t shown up?” He waits for her to murmur a yes before continuing. “I wanted to feel how wet you were. I could, already. I could feel it when my hand was pressed up against you,” he tells her, voice low and deep. He doesn’t want to think about it right now, but he knows he’s good at this. “I wanted to push one finger to your clit through your underwear… wanted you to ask me to take it off.”

“Fuck,” she whispers. “And if I asked?”

“I’d do it… after I got you soaking through it.” He has to pause for a moment here to steady his voice. “I’d wait until you begged me to take it off.” There’s a soft whimper on the other side of the phone and he freezes. “Fuck, Kaya, are you touching yourself?” he asks softly.

Kaya doesn’t answer for a moment. “Is that okay?” she asks finally, sounding wary. “I… your voice is making me feel…” She trails off, and Namjoon instantly hardens.

“You’re touching yourself… to what I’m saying?” he clarifies, his hand reaching his own hardened member as though of its own accord.

“You can do it, too,” she offers, a bit coyly, almost as though she can see him. “And, um…” She takes a shaky breath “... please don’t stop.”

“Fuck…” Suddenly remembering something, Namjoon springs up from his seat and darts to the door, locking it lest one of his six band members barges in on him. He resumes his seat and switches his phone to his left hand, tugging down his joggers with the other and grasping himself through his plain white underwear. “Put me on speaker.”

He hears a shuffle to indicate she’s obeyed him. “Done. Now… you were telling me how you wanted to make me beg for your fingers?”

“M-hm…” Namjoon palms himself, sighing quietly before continuing. “I wanted to make you beg before I took off your jeans, and your pretty black underwear. I wanted to enter you, first with one finger and then a second… while my palm rubbed against your clit… and you whispered my name.”

“Yeah, I’d say your name,” she agrees breathily, its absence conspicuous.

“Your bra was off… and your nipples looked so hard and sexy…” The image floats into his mind, her back arched as she lay on the sofa underneath him. “Fuck, I wanted to suck them so bad, Kaya…”

Her breathing is faster now, soft moans audible. Namjoon takes the phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker, placing it on the table before lowering his boxer briefs and freeing himself, properly grasping his erection now. His thumb brushes the glistening pre-cum on the tip, smearing it down his shaft before he begins stroking himself.

“Namjoon…” Her voice out loud in the room makes him jump slightly but he moves his hand faster, feeling himself closer than he’d thought. “I wanted you to… God, I wanted you to kiss me…”

“I wanted to kiss you… I wanted to swallow every sound you made while I fucked you with my fingers… I wanted to kiss your neck, suck on your skin -” He stops himself in time, hoping she doesn’t pick up on it. “I wanted to rub your little clit, slowly, until you asked me to go faster… until you were coming all over my fingers…”

Kaya’s moans are louder now, more frantic. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m…” She breaks off and the sound she makes, loud and breathy, brings him on the verge.

Namjoon continues working himself, stroking his cock faster and unable to keep quiet any longer. A few more quick, frustrated strokes and he feels himself explode all over his hand. He gives himself a few seconds to recover from his orgasm, groaning quietly, before leaning over and pulling out a few tissues from the box behind the laptop, cleaning himself up and pulling his clothes back up. He takes the phone off speaker and brings it back to his ear.

“Are you still there?” he asks after a moment. He can hear rustling so he knows she hasn’t hung up, but he has a moment of panic when he wonders if she regrets it.

“Yeah,” she says after a moment, still sounding slightly breathless. “Thanks for, um…” She laughs quietly, sounding a bit self-conscious. “It felt really good,” she finishes.

“Me, too,” he agrees, smiling to himself. “Did that help at all… with your headache?”

She scoffs in humour. “God, I hope so,” she says, and he hears her shift. “Sitting up is definitely easier. Did it help with your… I don’t know, musician’s block?”

“I really hope so,” he says dryly, leaning back in his chair. “Might have helped more in person, but, hey.” Glad to hear her chuckle at that, he continues. “Listen, uh… I know you’re leaving next week but can I take you out to dinner before you do? When you’re back from Jeju?”

“Yeah, that would be nice. Tuesday? I’m having dinner with the family on Wednesday. Last night and all,” she adds, sounding a bit wistful.

“Tuesday sounds good.” Namjoon nods, not wanting the call to end but knowing it’s coming to a natural close. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah. I should go, I guess…”

“M-hm.” He scrambles for something to prolong the conversation. “Call me if you - if you need - I mean, not this, but if you want to -” He breaks off, cringing with his head in his hands.

Kaya laughs, to his great relief. “I’m not sober enough to be too embarrassed about that but I’m sure I’ll get there,” she half-groans. “I’ll, uh… I’ll text you?”

“Yes, please,” he says, voice muffled where his hand is still covering his face. “And… don’t be embarrassed,” he adds earnestly. “You were… forgive me, but you were really hot.”

When she doesn’t respond for a few seconds, he’s afraid he’s said something wrong. But then he hears her stifle a chuckle. “I’ll see you in a few days, music producer.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#namjoon x oc #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #bangtanbathhouse #houseofddaeng #k-vanity #wkcnet #hyunglinenetwork #bts rm fanfic #bts rm smut #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff

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roadkill-raccoons · 1 year

Note

just found out about your peachblood au but can't quite figure out what the story is or what it's about. it looks like some kind of apocalypse AU, but other than that I don't know anything ;-;

By the way, your art is beautiful!

AHH im sorry 😭, im not good at writing down my thoughts into ways that are understandable

I wouldnt say theres much of a story other than the beginning.

This au is heavily inspired by adventure time, a little bit of steven universe, the last of us and some story me and a friend where making but completely forgot about, plus the weird shit that goes on in a my dreams.

Yes its an apocalyptic story, i made it as a massive excuse to draw some weird ass shit when i felt like it.

It mainly starts with Mk traveling alone just trying to live and eventually find peachy (that pink monkey) scrambling around in a peaches box in a old corner store.

Mk and and the monkey travel for a bit before they run into macaque and bai he, where macaque decides to fuck with Mk nearly getting him and peachy killed multiple times.

After they escape macaque they run into a forest that they stay in for a couple weeks, going deeper into the forest where they find monkey kings staff, laid in front of an empty grave for the undead monkey, the six eared macaroni macaque.

Mk did not remember who the monkey king was since he spent most of his life trying to live after tang and pigsy passed, so despite being in a very magical looking place he takes the staff as a form of protection, somehow assuming its just a regular staff that someone lost, he does learn a bit from a comic he found.

Mk and peachy travel for couple months in different cities where each were filled with strange creatures (i have so many failed sketches for these creatures) most of these creature use to be people or animals that were affected by a man made virus that a demon (lbd) took advantage of.

Mk and peachy eventually find boat while running from something and use to it to escape, where they float around in the ocean surviving on backpack food and fish for about a month before washing up on flower fruit mountain, yeah mk somehow slept through sailing through those big ole fiery mountains, peachy didn’t tho.

Once mk woke up he saw the villages at the top of the mountains and wanted to go up the tallest one to ask for help.

He finds monkey kings little hut but not monkey king, since it was empty he fell asleep, where he woke up to wukong poking at him non stop

After that mk spends a month learning who wukong really is and what he did and can do (he learns through the monkey villagers, not wukong hes basically become a lazy dad after being alone for so long) after a few attempts wukong agrees to travel with mk for a while. Peachy didnt totally try to fist fight three baby monkeys

That where the main story ends and rest is just mk and wukong doing whatever. Not much of a story afterwards since then its just kinda open for interpretation, dilly little ideas n shit

Hopefully this is all understandable, im used to describing shit in very strange ways. I actually also keep forgetting about it too :,3

If none of this makes sense you can also go thru the #peachblood au tag

And lastly 🥺🥺thnk you!!!!

#peachblood au #god i suck at english despite it being my first and only language

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remuswriting · 7 months

Text

depends, who's asking; m. osamu

Summary: As far as first meetings go, fighting over udon noodles is not one you thought you'd ever have.

Pairing: Miya Osamu/Male! Reader

Tags: Pre-Relationship; First Meetings; Meet-Cute; Canon Compliant; Second Person POV

Word Count: 1,002 words

Notes: Writing in second person is really not my thing, so hopefully it's good. I think this may be the only reader fic I've ever written where Y/N or L/N isn't used. This is just a silly little thing I wrote over a year ago. I hope you enjoy.

It’s been a long day since the soccer team practiced later than usual. Interhigh Qualifiers are coming up, and your coach wants to make sure everyone is ready. You’re only a first year, so you aren’t on first string, which you don’t really mind. You have two more years, after all.

Practice being grueling and running late leaves you absolutely exhausted, but thankfully, you don’t have to worry about your parents being upset since they work late on Wednesday. This means you cook dinner for yourself, which you like doing. Trying out new recipes is something you tend to do on Wednesday, but you’re not sure if it’ll be a new recipe night. You’re not sure what you have to eat at home, so you decide you’ll just stop by the store on the way home. There’s a simple recipe you like to make whenever you’re tired, but you know you need a couple things.

Your phone vibrates in your bag, so you pull your bag up to have easier access to it, but moving your bag results in your phone falling deeper and deeper into it. So, you’re shoving your hand past your school supplies and bento box until you finally have a hold of it. You see a couple of people looking at you, and you wonder if it might have been easier if you had stopped to take it out instead of walking at the same time. It doesn’t matter now, especially since the store is already in view.

“Oh,” you say, seeing that it was your mom who texted you. Apparently, she left money on the counter for takeout. You look up at the store and decide you might as well get some groceries while you’re here.

To: Mom

From: You

>>At the store. Do we need anything?

A long list of things is the next thing she sends. You sigh as you walk into the store and grab a basket. This is the main store your family goes to, so you know where everything is without needing to think too much about it.

“Alright, all that’s left is udon noodles,” you mumble as you look over your mother’s text again. As you make your way to where those are, hoping they have them, since the store’s popularity has grown due to a store nearby being remodeled.

There’s someone else on the aisle, a guy also wearing an Inarizaki uniform. The dyed gray hair gives away who it is; Miya Osamu. You’ve never met Osamu since he’s a year older, and most sports clubs don��t talk to each other. The boys’ volleyball club has several annoying members, so your soccer teammates say it’s better just not talking to them.

You walk down the aisle and find he’s standing in front of what you need. After a minute of standing there, you gently tap his arm. He looks at you. “Can I help you?” he asks, annoyed, which understandably so. You’d be annoyed too.

“Uh, I was wonderin’ if ya could hand me some udon noodles,” you say, and he doesn’t say anything as he stares at you. You try not to fidget, but you’re so uncomfortable. People always said that Atsumu is the “scary” twin while Osamu is laid back. You’re disagreeing right now.

“No,” he says, and you furrow your brows.

“No?”

“No,” he says, and he holds up two packages of udon noodles. “They’re mine.”

You move your head to see that there aren’t any more udon noodles on the shelf. You look back at him and bite your lip as you let out a deep breath. “Do ya really need two?”

“Yeah,” he says as he puts them in his basket. “Even if I didn’t, I’d take ‘em anyway.”

“Are ya new to this store?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“No, I’ve been comin’ here since I was a kid.”

You point at the noodles in his hand. “Then ya know that’s all they’ve got right now.” He just stares at you. “They won’t have any more until Tuesday.”

“That ain’t my problem,” he says, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Why’re ya bein’ an ass?” you ask, and you don’t know why you kept going. Maybe it’s because practice had been awful. Or maybe because your mom stressed wanting udon noodles. “Ya don’t need both of ‘em.”

“How do ya know that?” he asks, and you clench your jaw. “Maybe I need more than two and I’m settlin’ cause there’s no more.”

You roll your eyes. “I doubt that’s it.” It’s quiet as you two stare at each other. At this point, you can’t just back down. “I’ll pay you for it.”

Osamu blinks. “What?”

“I’ll pay you for the noodles.” You pull your wallet out of you bag far easier than you had pulled your phone out. “I’ve got the cash.”

“I’m not doin’ that,” he says, and you huff.

“Why not?”

“Cause I got here first.”

“Doesn’t mean ya’ve gotta be greedy!”

Osamu looks you over before shaking his head a little. “Ya know what? I’m just goin’ go. I hope ya get noodles next time.”

He turns and starts walking away. You clench your wallet in your hand. “I won’t forget this, Miya-senpai!”

He looks back at you with wide eyes. “You know who I am?”

You nod. “I also go to Inarizaki, and I’m not gonna forget this.”

“What’re ya gonna do?” he asks with an amused smirk, and you straighten your posture completely.

“I’m gonna buy all the udon noodles whenever I come here so you can’t have any of them!”

Osamu stares at you, shocking and not knowing how to respond, before chuckling slightly. You hate that he has a nice smile and laugh. “Good luck with that.”

He hurries down the aisle before you can say anything else. You throw your wallet on the ground as you grumble a little. Your teammates are right. Inarizaki boys’ volleyball club does have some annoying members.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x male reader

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quickhacked · 24 days

Text

// oc in 15.

tagged by; @devilbrakers, thank you so much!! tagging; @reaperkiller, @vvanessaives, @hibernationsuit, @katsigian, @adelaidedrubman, @dickytwister, @rindemption, @noirapocalypto and YOU!

rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an oc, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the oc. bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

decided to do this for vincent since he is the main character of my cyberpunk universe and it's been a hot sec since i talked about him! these bits are all from various fics including the broker which is a long fic that i'll never shut up about. sorry. i've included more than just the dialogue since a lot of vincent's manner of speech is also in his body language and internal monologue :^) his voice claim is basically masc v from in-game but with very distinct southern flair

from chapter 7 of the broker:

‘Here we are,’ Vincent repeated, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket and flinching lightly when he heard an explosion in the distance. ‘Just another fuckin’ day in Night City.’

from an unreleased fic i still need to finish and post:

‘The Deckhead?' Vincent asked. 'Fried to a crisp. Found ‘im hooked up to the Net high off his tits- he had an intruder alarm set up but it caused him to panic, ‘n he disconnected himself too soon. Lights went out before I could do anything.’

paraphrased from this fic, showing that vincent can and will talk to johnny out loud whenever he wants:

‘What the fuck,’ Vincent blurted out, voice shaky as he took another step back. […] Johnny raised a hand and gestured vaguely at Vincent, and himself, and the space between them. ‘You don’t have to speak out loud when you- I feel like I’ve said this before.’

from an unreleased fic:

‘Maelstrom wasn’t too happy I was running off with their toys,’ Vincent answered, eyes lingering on the bruise on Vitali’s face. ‘Had to flatline half of ‘em before I could get out.’

from chapter 11 of the broker:

‘Peachy,’ Vincent said and gave him a thumbs up. His mantis blade was still deployed and he nearly cut himself with it.

from chapter 16 of the broker:

‘Right.’ He stepped back, visibly biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes wandered off into the rest of the living room and he did a mocking salute in Vitali’s direction. ‘Yessir.’

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘Pleased to make your acquaintance?’ Vincent said, the sentence more a question than a statement, and he frowned slightly as he watched Dupoint walk around the desk and sit down opposite of him while unbuttoning the jacket of his slightly too big suit.

from an unreleased fic:

‘Yep, that was me,’ Vincent said in response, his voice suddenly a couple of octaves higher. Smooth talkin’, you fucking airhead. You sound like a damn high schooler.

from this fic, talking to johnny out loud again:

‘Right, ‘cuz apologizing means everything is instantly forgiven and forgotten,’ Vincent snapped, accidentally startling an old lady he passed by; he quickly raised his hand to her as an apology and fastened his pace.

from an unreleased fic:

‘Born ‘n raised in the Glen, yeah,’ Vincent answered, flinching when he noticed the edge of someone��s umbrella get dangerously close to his face. ‘Won’t find the nicest people there but at least they generally know they’re not the only gonk on the fucking road.’

from this fic:

‘Headache that comes and goes-’ Vincent paused and glared at Johnny. ‘- but yeah, peachy. And you’re right. Worrying doesn’t help anyone.’

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘V has had a lot of things on his mind, as of late,’ Vincent dryly said. ‘Please do enlighten me.’

from this fic, talking to johnny out loud again:

‘Alright, speaking rights fucking revoked,’ Vincent cut him off, visibly startling Vitali who had just slightly leaned in to Vincent’s touch. ‘Piss off, Johnny. Jesus.’

from chapter 15 of the broker:

Grant Armitage. Some seemingly random Arasaka exec with “his greasy little fingers stuck right up Yorinobu’s golden ass”, as Vincent had described him a few days prior.

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘A fully opened center.’ Dupoint paused, raised an eyebrow, and glanced back at Vincent. ‘Do you know what that move is called, V?’ Vincent shrugged, and swallowed his laughter. ‘Dunno. The American Nutcracker?’

#tag games #ask:vincent #yes i keep mentioning that he talks to johnny out loud most of the time but it's important for his character i need you to understand #it's funny to watch him startle everyone around him by suddenly starting to speak to johnny out loud. boy you could pretend you're on a cal #also i didn't really know who to tag for this because i'm out of the loop with who writes etc etc so i just grabbed some regulars #but as always feel free to kill me with hammers for whatever reason honestly i won't take it personally

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zmediaoutlet · 1 year

Note

What's your opinion on the fandom rhetoric about how Sam lacks bodily autonomy but Dean has it? I personally think it's weird that it's such a widespread idea when it's just blatantly untrue. A big theme for Dean's character is that his body is seen as a weapon or tool for others to use, so it's strange that people claim that he has full bodily autonomy.

(...okay, that the gif is by 'unfuckablebogtroll' is somehow very fitting.)

I think my main opinion of the fandom rhetoric is that there are a lot of batshit bitter sam girls who screech that dean is a meanie meanerton who doesn't respect sammy's presh 'tonomy and there are a lot of batshit extreme dean girls who wail about how sam is a meanie meanerton who, idk, waterboards dean in his spare time or whatever they're complaining about this week (I've unfollowed as many as I can of both camps), so for the most part both groups can be completely flushed down into the sewers of 'jesus christ, do you guys ever actually watch the show rather than circlejerk the same four arguments about it? ...no? oh. well, at least you're honest.'

So, with that said.

Yeah, obviously Dean lacks autonomy. But there's a difference between autonomy and agency, and I'm not going to pretend to have a super solid grasp on either (since a lot of philosophical debate [especially by fangirls] makes me want to jump into the aforementioned sewer just not to hear it anymore), but I can at least kind of make a stab, since you asked.

At least in the way I understand it (do you see all the caveats), bodily autonomy is literally getting to decide what happens to your body, including where it goes and who's inside it and what's done with it, and agency is general decision-making of like the brain sort -- what decisions will I make, who will I be, and so on. Both Sam and Dean are assailed on both fronts alllllll the time. Fandom folks tend to exaggerate those assaults on their preferred brother (because, for some reason, egregious victimhood is the only way you get to be a cool character?? what is that about.), but as with a lot of things in CW's Supernatural, the actual facts are a lot more balanced than fandom weirdos will admit.

Sure, Sam's got a bunch of autonomy assaults. Torture, possession, etc. Most of the time, though, I see his agency as pretty intact. He may not necessarily want to do some of the things he does (childhood hunting comes in here), but he chooses to do them. Is he manipulated sometimes? Sure. Lied to? Obv. But there's an essential steel pillar at the center of Sam and whether they're good choices or whether they're bad choices, he is the one who makes them, and he lives with those consequences. This is part of why the s9 thing with Gadreel is troubling: yeah, it's about bodily autonomy on one (more boring) level, but the much bigger problem is that Dean overrode his agency -- part of why I tend to believe that Sam's biggest objection is that Dean lied and then couldn't apologize for it, when Sam's agency is the most precious thing he owns. Now, he's a smart guy, and there are times his agency does take a blow because of some canon circumstance -- he doesn't want to do X but the world will end if Y, so X it is -- but for the most part Sam's solid and he can live with what he has to do. Though he won't pointlessly die of blue balls about it. What a silly stand on agency that would be.

Dean, meanwhile, doesn't actually have his bodily autonomy violated too much. By which I mean: of course, Dean-as-object is one of my favorite tags, of COURSE he's used as a meatsack and a weapon and a fuckdoll and all those lovely things. But he's very rarely literally possessed; he's holding the blade or the gun or what-have-you. That said, his agency is in the fuckin' gutter, haha, and that's more often what I mean by Dean-as-object. From childhood he's fully expecting to be told what to do, to be used as a pawn, to be used in other ways, to take on someone else's responsibility and make it his own and subsume his actual desires and wants for the good of... whoever. Usually John, but not always. This is something Sam doesn't really... do, that often. Sam might hate that he's making a choice but he does seem to understand that he is the one making it, whereas on Dean's part it so often feels like the choice is automatic -- of course he'll do what John says, of course he'll sell his soul, of course he'll... kiss some lady so the Qareen chases him instead. Now, are all those things tied to autonomy, too? Of course. But with Dean I feel like it's a bigger issue that his agency has been taken out at the knees ever since he was ~5 years old -- the autonomy problem is very much secondary.

Agency and autonomy are tied together and assaults on both happen relatively equally to both characters. What matters more is their attitudes about it, and their natures (whether they're essential or if they've been nurtured into acting a particular way). And, of course, there are different times in canon where these tendencies shift or even flip, e.g. in late s8 where Sam's certainty wobbles, or in s10 where Dean's autonomy w/r/t the Mark of Cain is really dicey.

Violated vs violable, victimized vs victim. A ton of it is in the eye of the beholder and OBVIOUSLY fandom will just sail off in its own directions any ol' way, depending on what shipping mood someone is in, how much projection is going on, what the phase of the moon is, etc. But generally speaking I find that Sam has a lot of agency in his life but often his autonomy is imperilled; Dean has a lot of autonomy but his agency is practically nil. At least for a while. What's nice is that Sam does have agency and he uses that agency to choose his own path in life, decide what he wants, and what he wants is -- a life with Dean. Dean maybe never really had a choice in the matter, but so what? He can stay in his bunker, and fight the monsters he needs to fight, and -- lucky for him, there's a strong hand covering his left side. What more could a cat ask for.

#answers #spn meta #i imagine people will hate on this but fuck it #people who don't respect sam's agency: miss me #or whatever it is the kids say #people who think dean can make up his own mind: lol #where were you when uhh all of the backstory happened #now obv it's all very nuanced and complicated but like #why are you doing the trauma olympics #it all sucks. they choose to deal with it and live.#hallelujah

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estrellami-1 · 11 months

Note

Steddie #80 😘😘😘

If you can, please tag @steddieas-shegoes so I’m more likely to see it ❤️

#80: “Teach me?”

@steddieas-shegoes as requested 😉 I hope you like it!

“I’m bored,” Steve mumbles, upside-down on Eddie’s bed, head hanging off the edge.

Eddie snorts. “You’re the one who came over here, Stevie-boy. Pretty sure that one’s on you.”

Steve groans, throwing his hands above his head. It exposes a strip of skin between his shirt and his shorts. His bellybutton is right smack-dab in the middle, and really, what else is Eddie meant to do?

He pokes it.

Steve yelps, flails, then glares at Eddie, who is silently dying of laughter. This is it, this is how he goes. Goodbye, cruel world, he sees the light.

Steve pushes him off the bed.

He chokes on an inhale, coughing. This is really how he goes. Much more likely, in any case.

He eventually gets ahold of himself and stops trying to hack up a lung. Or a kidney. It felt more like a kidney, he decides.

During his brush with death, Steve was looking around his room, unconcerned with the boyfriend he’d almost murdered. “Teach me,” he says suddenly, turning startling hazel eyes on Eddie.

Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve points at his guitar excitedly. “Will you teach me?”

“You… want to learn how to play guitar?”

“Yeah.”

“…huh.” He considers it for a few moments, then nods and stands, looking around his room. “Where-” he mutters to himself for a moment, then gasps, snaps, and runs out of the room, throwing, “Don’t move!” Over his shoulder.

He returns shortly with an acoustic. Boyfriend or not, nobody is touching his precious.

Heh. Precious. He vaguely wonders how long it’ll take Steve to get annoyed at him for using a Gollum voice, then realizes he’s dating a reformed mean girl who can still out-bitch him, and that he would probably get bored of the voice before Steve would get annoyed by it.

Then he realizes he’s been standing in the middle of his room staring at Steve. Oops. “Here,” he grins, handing over the guitar before moving to grab his ring. Err, guitar. Honest mistake.

He sits across from Steve on his bed, grinning. “Okay. First things first, learning the parts. The three main parts are the head, the neck, and the body.” He touches each part as he says it. “On the head are the tuning pegs, which connect to strings, which connects to the bridge, all the way down here on the body. The vertical lines on the neck are called frets. Those are how you know where to put your fingers. You want to put them directly behind the next fret, which we’ll get to in a minute. Let’s go over the strings, okay?” He strums each of them, one at a time. “E, A, D, G, B, and E again.” He grins. “Guess how my Momma taught me to remember the names.” Steve raises an unsure eyebrow, which is a fair reaction. “Eddie ate dynamite, good-bye Eddie.”

“Eddie!” Steve splutters, laughing.

Eddie laughs back. “What? It’s what she taught me!”

Eventually they calm back down, and Eddie plays a chord. “Here. Copy my fingers.” Steve does, and Eddie has him strum, one string at a time. He nods. “That’s a D chord.”

Steve snickers. Eddie furrows his brows. “A dick-ord?” Steve asks, laughing loudly at Eddie’s entirely unamused face.

Really it’s an act. He’s trying his hardest to keep it together, to stay collected, the teacher.

He fails very quickly, joining Steve in laughter.

“That was terrible,” he informs his boyfriend, who really just looks proud at his terrible joke.

“You laughed too,” Steve reminds him.

Eddie considers this, then shrugs. “I’m terrible. We all knew that.”

Steve squawks in mock outrage. “Hey, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about!”

Eddie collapses in giggles. “Babe,” he says, trying to school his features. He finally succeeds and looks, wide-eyed, at Steve. “You’re ridiculous.”

They both collapse in laughter again. Finally they calm down and Eddie does his best to teach Steve a few more chords.

Steve sighs at the end of their impromptu lesson. “I guess we’ll see how much of this sticks.”

“You’ll get it,” Eddie promises him. “It just takes practice, that’s all. And I’ll always be here for help if you want it.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

Steve keeps at it whenever he can, practicing until his callouses resemble those of his boyfriend, until he’s able to play any chord, until he’s able to pull Robin aside one day and ask her for a favor.

It takes time—a lot longer than it took Eddie, Steve’s sure—but eventually, he and Robin figure out a song. Chord by chord, note by note, they write it out in a way Steve can remember it. And chord by chord, note by note, Steve plays it until he is sure he gets it right.

It’s just in time, too; Eddie’s birthday is coming up. Steve practices every day leading up to it. At least once a day, more if he can manage it, until finally, the day arrives.

He drives over to Eddie’s house as soon as he’s sure he’s awake. “Happy birthday,” he tells his boyfriend, who beams and hugs him in thanks.

“So I do have a present for you,” Steve starts, “but it’s not something I can wrap. And I’m going to ask a huge favor of you.” He leads Eddie back to his bedroom, chuckling when he sees the look in his boyfriend’s eyes. “I know where your brain’s headed,” Steve chides. “That’s not it.” Eddie looks confused as Steve stops by his electric guitar. “I know no one touches your sweetheart,” Steve starts. “But I’m asking to. Just for four minutes, baby. I can do it without, but you know how different it’ll sound.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve. “What are you planning?”

Steve just smiles and mimes zipping his lips. Eddie smiles like he can’t help it, first just a little quirk of his lips, then all at once, shaking his head as he chuckles. “Alright. Four minutes,” Eddie teases.

Steve nods, suddenly nervous. He’s glad the song starts out slower; there��s no way he could rip out Master of Puppets right now.

Eddie must see his nerves, because he grasps Steve’s hands. “Hey,” he says, looking Steve in the eye. “Whatever it is, I’m gonna love it. Okay? Doesn’t matter what it is, how long it takes, if you mess up. I’m gonna love it. Okay?”

Steve takes a breath, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “Okay.” He nods, takes another deep breath, and begins.

The Last in Line starts off pretty easy, and the way Eddie’s eyes light up makes every second learning the song worth it, even with the minute amount of picking he’s doing.

“No fuckin’ way,” Eddie breathes, grinning at Steve. Steve grins back.

He has no idea.

Steve continues playing, starts to sing when he’s supposed to, and Eddie jumps off the bed, dancing around his room. “No fuckin’ way!” He exclaims, and still Steve just smiles.

He has no idea.

Finally, at around three minutes in, the part he was most excited to show Eddie begins. It requires all his concentration, so he only notices after the guitar solo that Eddie had crept closer to the bed and was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, looking up at Steve with what can only be described as a besotted expression. He’s got the end of his sleeve in his mouth, and Steve knows him by now, knows he’s trying to keep calm, knows he doesn’t know what to do with his emotions and feelings. Steve isn’t sure he’s ever loved Eddie more.

Finally he finishes the song. Eddie doesn’t move, not until the guitar’s put away and Steve’s grabbing his hands. “I think you broke me, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, looking up at him with a wondering sort of expression. “You… you learned that? For me?”

Steve smiles and nods. “Robin helped a bunch. Like, it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t helped.” He bites his lip. He’s sure he knows Eddie’s tells, but still, anxiety creeps up. “You- did. Did you like it?”

“Like it?” Eddie huffs an incredulous laugh. “I’m restraining myself because I think I might fuckin’ propose if I don’t. I- baby,” he says, so full of love that Steve tears up a little. “I’ve never had anyone put this much effort into me before. Well, besides Wayne. But I- you-” he shakes his head, lets out a wet chuckle. “Fuck. I love you. Fuckin’ hell, babe, I really think you broke me.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Steve’s shoulder, then lifts his head to bite gently at Steve’s shoulder.

Steve, who knows his boyfriend, who knows he bites when he gets overwhelmed, promptly falls even deeper in love with him. “I love you,” he offers softly. “And hey, don’t feel like you have to restrain yourself on my account.” He gently lifts Eddie’s chin, grinning wildly. “Proposal aside, I want to know how much you liked it.”

Eddie nips at his nose. “I can’t tell you,” he says honestly. “I don’t have the words.” An impish grin begins to grow. “But I might be able to show you.”

Steve grins back, wide and in love. “Show me.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme

#writing prompt #prompt 80 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #guitar #boys in love #idiots in love #side note ‘Eddie ate dynamite good-bye Eddie’ is how I learned the names of the strings #it’s been actually 14 years and I still remember #starambles

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