#(yes this counts as part of my au... which i still need a tag for)
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coming back with really mid art of middle aged businessman yaoi </3
#alek art#lego ninjago#ninjago#acronix#cyrus borg#futureshipping#time twins#2024#(yes this counts as part of my au... which i still need a tag for)#ignore how nix technically isnt middle aged. their ages average out its close enough#i spent all this time drawing and i didnt even have any dialogue thought out oops#this looks bad i didnt reallyyy try too hard on it oops . i haven't been drawing bc i haven't felt like it 😭 oops#future fans wya . i always talk about how much i like future and then never draw them#wdym borg industries blimp was what told wu that / when acronix would return . wdym the blimp stopped appearing after s7#acronix the borg industries car guy he fucking lovesss cars
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#WIP ⟢ THE SALT UNDER THE SEA ˒˒ 심재윤 ⨾ 박종성 ▸ part two of the player’s game series⌇playlist & series tag
the death of your grandma has you returning back to your mother’s seaside hometown—the same town you left jake in a year ago—for good. now that you’re back, so are the feelings you really desperately wished to leave behind. it doesn’t help that now you’re caught in the crossfire of two guys with a rough past who want to be with you.
pairing ⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x reader, park jongseong x reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 cousin jungwon, bestfriend!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)
genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ exes to lovers, bestfriends to ???, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jake, ex player!jake, bestfriend!jay, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding inaccuracies, love triangle, slice of life, some h2o references, beach au, summer romance
warnings ⸝⸝⸝ if you didn’t like reader in the first part then you won’t like her in this one, reader’s grandma passing and mentions of reader’s dad passing, multiple unprotected sex scenes, soft dom!jake, mean dom!jay, toxicity, jayke constantly one-uping each other, arguing, semi-public sex, size training, corruption kink full smut tags in actual post . . . !
kipo’s note ⸝⸝⸝ this was a long time coming lmao i’m so so sorry to everyone who has been waiting (◞‸◟;) with my month long break and adjusting to writing again i’m finally ready to start working on this series again! this is my main priority so i will try to get it out as soon as i possibly can!! this post will be updated as i work on it! ^^ all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡
release date ⸝⸝⸝ sept 20th, 2024 ⋆ progress updates here!
∿ [ teaser wc: 0.7k ] ∿ [ current wc: 26.1k ] ⋆ [ continue to . . . wips , masterlist ]
send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!
⟢ READ HERE!
your heart beat fast as you looked out the plane window to your mother’s seaside hometown—your new home. there was no need for your mom to nudge you awake since you weren’t able to sleep for the entirety you were on the plane, the nerves were eating at you.
you never thought you’d be back here, never thought that you’d ever say goodbye to your own hometown—which was also your late father’s—but here you were.
when your mom told you that you’d be moving here permanently you didn’t know how to feel. one one hand, you understood your mom’s decision. it was just you and her out there miles away from your family and everything must’ve reminded her of your father. it reminded you of him too. on the other hand, you desperately wished she would change her mind.
it was enough seeing that one glimpse of jake nine months ago, but to see him over and over and over again? you didn’t think you could take it. he still texted you, even more now since, and you still haven’t answered. things between the two of you still remain unsaid.
but you also couldn’t help but count down the seconds until you laid your eyes on him again. it set your skin alight and you couldn’t help the small smile on your face and the giddiness you felt. was it selfish, yes, but after everything you think you’re finally ready to face him again.
to give your relationship another chance. to give him your heart again and not be fearful that he would break it, that he’d keep it guarded and safe. after all, he said he would wait for you.
and if he didn’t protect your heart, you’d pull back and it would be as if you never had anything to do with him again.
“y/n? are you listening?” you heard your mother’s voice call out. you snapped back to reality, blinking a couple of times to get your wits.
you were no longer on the plane. now you were lugging suitcases into your aunt’s house. your aunt was delighted to hear that you and your mom would be moving here. there was plenty of room in the house until the two of you got your own place.
“mhm,” you mumbled, though you definitely weren’t listening.
your mom sat the suitcase she was carrying in front of you and grabbed your shoulders. “is it that boy from last summer?” what was his name? jacob?”
“jake,” jungwon answered for you as he walked out the front door to grab more boxes.
your mom snapped her fingers. “jake! that’s it. listen, i know you had some problems moving here because of him, but use this as a way to put yourself out there more than last summer! there’s more wonderful people here than just jake.” she gave you a sympathetic smile and continued carrying stuff inside while you remained planted to the same spot in the driveway.
it wasn’t “just jake” that worried you. it was all of his friends and hana. you didn’t want another summer full of drama, especially if you and jake did start dating again.
getting all your boxes and suitcases into the house went quick and relatively easy. you decided on unpacking all of your things later, right now your mind was too clouded.
jake’s letter sat carefully in your anxious hands. you must’ve read it a million times over now and still you could barely wrap your head around it.
“two people who are meant to be will always find a way back to each other. and we are meant to be. no matter how long it takes, i’ll wait for you.”
it was now or never. you grabbed your phone and opened your messages up to your conversation with jake. his last message was from this morning, hoping that you had a good day today. he must not know that you’re back and for good. with a shaky sigh, you let your fingers move across the keyboard.
you: meet me at our spot.
⟢ READ HERE!
taglist 1﹙ OPEN! ﹚⸝⸝⸝ click here for series taglist! 🏷️ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @onlyhyunjin @un06 @nenesz @branchrkive @dreamiestay @lilyuwon @ghstzzn @kaykay11sworld @kirinaa08 @cherlv @zl-world @cloud-lyy @sunpov @samouryed @immelissaaa @y4wnjunz @who-tf-soddhi @minaateez @jajenoric @lilactangerine @chaconadine @americanojake @in-somnias-world @bobaikeu @cupidscourt @inkigayocamman @nctsshoes2 @helenngxz @jakeswifez @usnve @tasnim10 @deobitifull @won4me @zeeloveshee
send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!
∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , wips , taglist ] all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡
© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.
#﹙📝﹚jjunieworld’s ✩ wips 𓍯#tpg series#jake x reader#jake smut#jay x reader#jay smut#enhypen x reader#enhypen smut#kpop x reader#kpop smut#enhypen jake#enhypen jay#jake sim#sim jake#jay park#park jongseong#sim jaeyun#jongseong x reader#park jongseong x reader#sim jaeyun x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshot#enhypen drabble#jake sim smut#jay park smut#enhypen hard hours
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Swan song
Professor Viktor x TA Reader
[PART 1]。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆[PART 2] ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆[PART 3]
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆[AO3 link] ⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。
Summary: You’re a bright phD student who won’t shy away from a challenge. Getting the most notorious professor at the University of Piltover to hire you as his assistant is one of them.
Tags: Modern AU, SFW (for now…), DILF professor Viktor, romanticizing and eroticizing borsht, lab shenanigans, reader being filled with equal parts shame and lust
Word count: 7.8k
Notice: This fic is written with a transmasculine reader in mind, but that won’t come into play at all until the final third chapter of this mini-series.
Notes: A little something something while we await season two ;] The draft for this post deleted itself twice now. If the formatting looks wonky (especially in the texting section), NO, it doesn't. Shut up.
He didn’t lie.
Which is all the more shocking, considering you attend his 8AM lecture on the very same day, and he seems more bright and alight than you’ve ever seen him.
When did he find the time?
Though there isn’t a daunting amount to your thesis just yet, you still want to believe you’ve written something quite substantial over the past months.
You toss one glance around yourself before you follow him into his office after his lecture, and you find the stack of papers you’d left on his desk last night looking positively devoured, in the most… academic way possible. Scribbles and notes litter the margins, the edges of the papers are already somehow lightly worn.
He must have read it multiple times.
“Coffee?” He offers.
“Yes, please.”
As he gropes the machine in search of its switch again, he cocks his brow at you. “And what was that for?”
You frown. “What was what for?”
“That… glance, before you followed me into my office.” The switch clicks, the light comes on. “Looking around like you were being followed.”
“Oh,” caught in the embarrassing act, you shrug. “I don’t know. Being cautious, I guess. Students have been looking at me a little funny, lately.”
“Much too late for caution, I’m afraid.”
Uh oh.
As he retrieves two paper cups, you’re left wondering what exactly that should mean.
“Why’s that?”
“I thought you were well aware of the fact that rumors would start, um… circulating the moment I made it public that I had hired an assistant.” Coffee trickles into the cups, a soothing little melody. Viktor leans against the wall beside the machine as he watches the cups fill. “I’ve always been adamant about not needing one. It is natural for people to have questions — and to come up with, eh, answers — when I suddenly do.”
The notion of the answers students might have come up with swirls around in your brain.
You wish they were right.
You’re glad they’re not.
You look at Viktor.
“Do you mind it?”
The coffee stops pouring. Viktor does that thing again, spreading long fingers apart to grasp both cups. And he’s quiet — for a beat longer than he should be.
“No. There are more important things to worry about than… gossip.” He sets the cups on the table, then takes his seat. He hesitates for a brief second, craning his neck before he fixates on you, motionless. Waiting. “Do you?”
“Trying not to.”
The answer makes him… deflate, somehow. It’s barely visible, for just a fraction of a second his chest sinks, before his tone is back to his composed cadence.
“You will get used to it,” he assures. “Now, onto more interesting matters — your work.”
Thank god. You don’t know how much more of the awkward tiptoeing you could have handled.
“Yes.” Your heart leaps into your throat. Acting normal has never been so difficult. “What did you think?”
“Very impressive.” He slides the stack of papers towards you. “I have made some… suggestions here and there, should you wish to take them into consideration. But, I think you struck gold with your hypothesis. Should you need a conversation partner, guidance, anything at all — I would gladly be at your service.”
“Thank you, Viktor. I really appreciate this.”
At the sound of his own name coming from you, something in him shifts. Shifts with an unfamiliar near bashfulness, he stifles a little smile into the rim of his paper cup, the corners of his eyes crinkle, he settles into his seat a little further.
“But you never held up your end of the bargain,” you point out. That snaps him out of it.
“Ah, yes. I did not.” He continues to hide behind his cup, before he finally seems to decide to take a metaphorical leap, as he sets it down and stares down at it. “I fear the unfortunate truth may be that when it comes to research, I either work better with a partner, or that… Cecil is right and I need to slow down. Though I’d guess the former is more likely.”
“You used to work with, uh…” you’re not sure how to approach the topic, “Talis, didn’t you?”
“The five basic principles of applied arcanism are commonly referred to as Talis’ princies, you do not have to feign uncertainty to appease me.”
So you drop the attempt to tiptoe around the subject, and ask, plainly:
“Why wasn’t your name added on?”
Viktor scoffs. “Talis-Sidorov-Sviboda has a terrible ring to it. Or so he’d said. And admittedly… I was more of a conduit than the co-author of his idea. He said we would name the next big thing we would discover after me, but… well, you know how it is. I dedicated myself to teaching, he retired to lead a quiet life in his gaudy mansion with his sports cars and his purebred German shepherds after he married some businesswoman.”
Though his story does line up, those aren’t necessarily the rumors you’d heard. There’d been talk of more than just a mild dispute of names, and… well, there had been… something between Talis and Viktor. But that’s about all you know.
Under your gaze, Viktor grows suddenly uncomfortable — both with the subject and the fact that he might be able to tell you know more. He’s quick to redirect the conversation.
“As for my research: I have been studying the laminal hexoin cascade in stabilized hexgems in various matrices. And though bold, I have been attempting to figure out the ideal matrix — something that will allow for close to a hundred percent energy renewal and render all other sources of energy obsolete.”
”That is bold,” you say. Your other thought, you keep to yourself: it also sounds impossible. You suppose stabilizing hexgems 20 years ago was also something thought impossible — and yet, Viktor hadn’t shied away. If anyone is apt for the job, it is him. “Any luck so far?”
“Partially. They have been yielding favorable results, but not enough to be viable energetic alternatives as of now.” He takes his cup again, bringing it to his lips in a rushed movement, drinking a mouthful, rather than a sip. Once Viktor sets it down, his hand remains on the table, fingers tapping on the shiny surface once, twice— “I could use a theorist to assist me with a few things.”
The implication dizzies you. Is he…?
But then he slides another one of his drawers open, and retrieves a stack of papers. Slanted handwriting, barely legible — you’re by now intimately familiar with it: his cursive. It litters the pages, in different inks and in pencil, diagrams, sketches… just looking at it makes you hungry to read it.
He smiles as if he’s read your mind, again.
“I was thinking it could be you.”
—
You’re invited to his office for lunch break the very next day too. And though he assures you there is no pressure in having to read through his notes by then, you disregard it.
It takes you a reread to be able to make sense of all his scribbles, but… it’s brilliant. He’s brilliant.
It should stop surprising you by now — his ideas, his drive, his curiosity, his mind — but with every single time Vikror impresses you anew, he becomes something more distant.
As you’re marveling at his intricate weaving of concepts, it strikes you, unpleasantly, that this is the same man you’d wanted to devour just days ago. The man who’s made you coffee, the man whose sharp eyes fold at the corners when he smiles.
You’d have deified him, had he been your teacher. You still do, especially now, after you’ve seen more of what his mind is made of. The mere notion of him becomes terribly out of reach, and you’re plagued with guilt for that night. Guilt for having tainted such a man with your thoughts.
And yet, you still can’t help but think of his neck, the soft pink of his chapped lips, the hollow of his cheeks. You wonder what his mouth tastes like, and you want to slap yourself on the wrist for it. You should have, because minutes later, you wonder about worse things too. The scent of his skin, the coarseness of his body hair, how far up under his navel it might reach.
And when you finish reading his notes a second time and bring the paper to your nose to sniff it — hoping for a trace of him — you realize you have a problem. A serious one.
It torments you for the rest of the night, through the hours you spend writing up some suggestions and ideas, all the way to when you switch off the light, and hug whatever pillow’s within reach close.
When you get the urge to tilt your hips against it, you decide to get up and splash your face with water.
And you wish you could do the same thing the very next day on your lunch break, when you’re standing in the doorway of his office and he’s eating borscht. The sweet-tangy smell of vegetables, beef and beets makes your stomach growl, but your physical hunger is long lost on your otherwise preoccupied brain.
The beet red of the soup has pigmented his lips. They look kissed raw, puffy, ripe. A lavish speck of colour on his otherwise pale face, it draws your gaze and does not let it stay somewhere more respectful.
You want to taste them.
He does it for you, raspberry pink tip of his tongue darting over the plush of his lips before he swallows and finally greets you.
“Sorry,” you say, and it comes out tense, near horrified. You’ve caught him eating soup, for chrissakes, not being bent over his table. Oh, god. Why did you have to think about that? ”I’ll come back later.”
“No,” Viktor gestures to the empty seat across from him. He screws his thermos shut, and puts it away. “Please, I’ve been waiting for you. Sit.”
And you do, like the dog you feel like you are right now.
“Did you manage to find the time to read my notes?”
Oh, did you.
“I… followed your example and made some suggestions of my own. But on separate pages. Here.”
His reaction is more than what you’d hoped for. It’s more than the impressed raise of thick brows that had kept you fueled last night, it’s more than the smile you’d been hoping for.
“You are unbelievable,” he grins, and takes what you offer, pushing his glasses up his nose before he starts reading. You selfishly use the distraction to stare at his lips again. He mutters to himself as he reads, pink mouth molding around whispered jargon, nodding. “Yes, this… this is exactly what I’d hoped for, when I’d asked for your assistance. Your fresh set of eyes is invaluable. I hadn’t thought of approaching the modification from that angle.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off the page for even just a moment, flipping it surprisingly fast, and taking it with him as he leans back in his seat.
And decides to torture you.
Viktor traces the pad of his own thumb over the curve of his bottom lip as he takes in your handwriting. The give of the flesh under his fingertip hypnotizes, the slight drag of rough skin on soft pink one, your mind is long gone.
You think of rough fingertips on his lips, on his chest, rough fingertips on the pasty white of his gaunt lower stomach, rough fingertips in coarse hair. Rough fingertips dipping between his milky thighs, rough fingertips on where he runs just as pink as he does on his lips, rough fingertips dipping, slipping on slick skin—
You need to stop.
And you most certainly need help.
“Is something the matter?”
It feels like you’ve swallowed your own brain whole when he speaks, because your skull rings hollow when you try to come up with a reply that isn’t incoherent babble.
“Wh— me? No. Why?”
And because embarrassment loves to stick around once it has made its presence known, the stars align for the next social disaster: your stomach growls. Loudly.
“Did you not have lunch?” Viktor asks.
“I… didn’t get around to it,” you admit.
“I won’t take up too much of your time, then,” he assures. If he knew just how much of your time he’s started taking up — and the fact that you wish you could give him what is left of it to him, too. “I would like you to work alongside me on my research. But if you don’t feel like you can squeeze another project into your presumably busy schedule, I understand. I would be glad to have you merely as… a colleague to consult with, as well.”
Is that even a question? He’s offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. You would be an idiot not take it.
And an even bigger idiot to turn down more time spent with him.
“You don’t even have to ask,” you joke. “Yes. I would be thrilled, Viktor.”
This is his first smile you witness when his pretty boyishness doesn’t shine through. It’s a gentle quirk of his lips, no teeth to be seen, just tenderness. It makes your heart leap to be the cause of it.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Thank you.”
Silence.
Just as you’re about to breach it — he does it first.
“Would you be free for lunch tomorrow as well?”
He watches you from below long, dark lashes as you give a breathless yes.
—
“I brought you something.”
It’s the last thing you expect as you step into his office at noon, upon exchanging hellos.
You’re alight. With curiosity, above all else. And with worry — why would he bring you something? What will you do to reciprocate?
“Thank you,” you say, though you have no idea what for just yet. “What is it?”
“I saw you eyeing my borscht yesterday.” There’s a glint in his eye that suggests more, so much so you can’t decide between flirting or digging a hole for yourself in the hardwood floor of his office.
The middle ground is standing in his office awkwardly as he unzips his backpack.
He retrieves two thermos bottles: the one you’re already familiar with, and another that looks older, more worn, and sorely lacks the sticker you’ve so come to love and fixate on and dream about. “I, eh, I made you some. In case you wouldn’t get the chance to eat before you came here.”
Your chest swells so much it hurts.
He made you soup?
“You… Viktor, this is… thank you. You shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to. Have a seat.”
You practically jump into the seat across the table from his — a seat you’ve come to associate as yours, in spite of being well aware of the oppisite.
As he screws the bottle open and pours some steaming soup out into a paper bowl — god, he’d brought paper bowls — his eyes flick to you.
“But if you don’t care for borscht, you don’t have to—“
“I do care.”
And that rings true not just for the borscht.
It rings true for the soup he brings you the next day too, it rings true for every word that passes his lips. And it rings true for the time you start to spend in the insane coffee shop queue to surprise him with his preferred order and a slice of cake (a different one each day, until you figure out his favorite: cinnamon coffee), it rings true for the dark blue roughed up thermos he lets you take home the day you don’t finish the soup he brings you because you’re just so busy talking.
It’s November before you know it.
As the days grow colder, it’s not rare to be finding warmth by lavishing in Viktor’s attention as you ramble on about ideas — either for his research, or your thesis. All while he intently follows your thoughts with a smile, stopping just to shave another mouth-half-full’s worth off his cake of the day with his plastic spoon.
And once he savors the last bite, Viktor almost always flips it hollow side down, sliding it down the swell of his tongue within his mouth, removing it from between puckered lips. His cheeks hollow, he holds eye contact all the same, and it’s a mental image that haunts you. A mental image you project in your mind, nestled between the apex of your thighs. The thick of his tongue. The cushiony seal of his lips, the suction of his cheeks.
It never becomes any less distracting than the first time it happens.
You startle when Viktor speaks as he sets down the plastic spoon into the now empty packaging.
“I would like you to accompany me to the lab sometime soon. When would you be free?”
You’ve been before — but just a handful of times. Mainly for him to demonstrate or disprove certain guesses, or test conclusions you’d reached together.
“I’m free right now,” you suggest.
Viktor shakes his head. “I have a lecture in an hour.”
Right.
“I mean… I think we could make it in an hour.”
“I prefer to take my time.” Viktor leans back in his seat, stares thoughtfully at the clock on his wall for a moment. “Would seven PM work for you?”
“Uh…” you mentally go through your schedule for the day, “yes. It should. I might be a little late, though. How about… seven fifteen-ish?”
“Good.” The flow of the word is syrupy, yet his next sentence comes out surprisingly peppy with excitement: “See you then.”
—
Though you’re well into the final week of November, it never stops bothering you just how quickly the sun sets. By the time you get to the lab, the air’s gone cold, dry, and the darkness is heavy and thick.
Viktor waits for you just outside the university lab, under the halo of the street light — perhaps just a hint overdressed for the cold, in your opinion. It’s certainly trench coat season, though his is surprisingly long, reaching somewhere along the middle of his shins. The hand he hasn’t tucked in his pocket holds his cane and is clad in a leather glove. Around his lengthy neck, a red knitted scarf lays in chunky, impenetrable layers, reaching almost all the way to the swell of his top lip and his ears. You can hardly see his smile from underneath when he spots you — but his eyes give him away.
“Right on time,” Viktor’s tone has just as much pep to it as a few hours ago, perhaps even moreso. He rolls his shoulders, before he subtly nuzzles further down into his scarf, shying away from the biting cold. “Let’s get inside.”
He leads the way into the building, its warmth embracing you the moment you step in. The tip of your nose and your fingertips feel like they’re beginning to thaw, tingling just a hint. As you go to take off your coat, you notice Viktor isn’t in a rush. He rests his cane against the wall before he unwraps the thick, wide scarf from around his neck, folding it. He sets it on a nearby table, shucking off his trench coat, slender shoulders under a wool sweater. You watch closely as he then takes his scarf and stuffs it into the sleeve of his coat before he hangs it up.
There’s something stiff, painful, about how he moves. You wonder if it’s the cold.
“What?” He watches you with appeased amusement.
Caught red-handed, you jump, still halfway clad in your coat.
“Nothing,” you reply, scraping for a way to deflect from your obvious staring. “Not a big fan of the cold?”
“Never.” He says it like it’s a very serious matter. “I still don’t know how I made it through my first eighteen winters in St. Petersburg.”
“You grew up in Russia?”
He laughs through his nose like you’ve told him a half good joke. “What gave it away? The accent? The surname?”
“No, I just thought… Svoboda is a Czech surname.”
With how his smile turns knowing, self-satisfied, you’re suddenly back in his office again, uncertain and nervous and asking for a job as his assistant. He could taunt you with the knowledge that you’ve looked up his last name, embarrass you a little, play with you.
But he isn’t that man anymore — not to you. This time, he feeds your curiosity, albeit just with crumbs.
“My mother’s,” he clarifies. “Sidorov is Russian — my father’s.”
Oh.
“It’s nice that they used both their names. I’m assuming that wasn’t… common, back then, and back there.”
“It wasn’t, and they did not.” Viktor waits for you to hang up your coat, watchful gaze making your every movement feel loaded with static that’s about to snap. “I added hers when I changed my name.”
Changed his name?
The image of the sticker on his thermos turns up fresh in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder…
“Well? I was hoping we could discuss more in the lab, but if you prefer the coat hanger…”
Goddamn it. Focus. You need to focus.
“Sorry.”
You catch up, then slowly follow Viktor down the hallway, into the small lab he has been assigned. It’s one of the less grand ones, but it has all it needs — from a pretty new hexion accelerator to a humble whiteboard. It smells sanitized, sterile, ozonic.
You assume your usual seat by the whiteboard while he sets up. It still doesn’t feel… right to let him do all of that by himself, but he insists upon it, so, you stay out of his way. Viktor tidies up the space just a little, finding his goggles among the mess. He slips them onto his head, elastic pulling back his soft hair into a fluffy grey and brown mess. His cane thumps against the linoleum with every hurried step — though he doesn’t seem to be hurrying on account of you being there as much as excitement to show you.
Once he’s done, he sits in front of the accelerator, slipping his goggles on, and nods for you to come. Which you do — you’d be at his beck and call beyond just the academic context. For a moment, you pluck the inviting tilt of his head and the quirk of his lips out of their context, and you plant it atop your own bed, him in just a loose shirt, underwear, lax with freshly received pleasure. More comfortable than he’s ever been, all because of you. Beckoning for you. Come here. Smiling at you when your knee dips into the mattress, tucking his index under your chin as you crawl to him, reeling you in for a kiss.
“Come closer.”
God help you.
You comply with a wildly beating heart, stepping forward until you’re close behind his sitting form, watching the accelerator over his shoulder.
He smells nice. Like an indistinct, aromatic cologne, covering up the natural, gentle musk of his skin. You have to resist the urge to dip your head down and trace the tip of your nose along his spine, from where the bones of his neck show to where the scruff at the back of his head goes thicker, fuller. You wonder if he’d shiver as you let the scent of him imbue you… you wonder if he’d lean into it, if he’d tilt his head for you, let you dip your face into the slope of his shoulder, where his scent’s more potent.
The mere thought of him, vivid in your nostrils and clinging to your palate and the floor of your brain, rattles you with a shiver.
“I thought I’d rather show you than tell you,” he explains, wrapping both pale, bony hands around the handles of the accelerator. Steam hisses from the exhaust, flooding the room with more ozone, and gently, but certainly, the gem starts to spin behind the glass panel, beginning to levitate out of its socket, illuminating the room.
God, you should have put on goggles too, it’s making your eyes hurt. It’s a welcome reminder as to why you chose to spend most your days staring down a blackboard rather than the thing itself. The screen right above it is more of a familiar sight to you: numbers, reading the rotations per minute, as well as energetic output, steadily increasing.
It whirrs, magic static whirling up around the blue orb, electricity crackles.
You can see the appeal of this over a blackboard. But you’d still take the chalk. Especially considering the deafening noise.
Nevermind the damn goggles. You need to remember to bring some ear plugs.
“Watch the panel.” Viktor raises his voice over the hum of the machine, and turns to you, watching you from behind foggy lenses with a smile. You wish you could see the way his crow’s feet deepen. It rumbles harder, so much so Viktor almost has to shout the next thing he says, which is a shame, because his usually playful lilt is lost in the noise of it. “Not to… spoil the outcome of this experiment for you, but I implemented the conclusions we came to last week, and, it is safe to say…”
With a well-timed click and tug on a lever, the machine disengages, and the gem drops back into its socket under the influence of gravity. Its violating light returns to a faint, blue glow, like an artificially lit aquarium; fluctuating and undulating gently in its intensity. The potential energy indicator’s numbers climb back up, steadily, but faster than what you’ve seen before.
Much faster.
You can’t help but grin with excitement. “It’s regenerating fast.”
Viktor smirks at you over his shoulder like you’re sharing a sacred, intimate inside joke.
“It is.“
You await the verdict with a bated breath.
“How much?”
Viktor’s smile only grows, like he’s about to give you a present. And, all things considered, this is going to be one, in months’ or maybe even years’ time.
“A thirty-seven percent recovery after usage within an hour.” Viktor spins in the lab stool to face you with the theatrical self-satisfaction of a magician who just sawed his assistant in half and is waiting for the applause. You nearly forget to step back to give him the space for it, so much so your knees knock together. But there is no chance for you to apologize, Viktor is unbothered, sliding the goggles up his forehead enthusiastically, his show of complacency ditched in favor of pure excitement. “That is more than I’ve ever achieved thus far. Thanks to y—”
His voice sticks in his throat, turning into a pained hiss.
His hair’s tangled in his goggles.
“Oh, wonderful,” he grits out sarcastically.
A frustrated half-sigh half-groan rumbles in his chest as he pulls again and only makes things worse.
“Could you get me a pair of scissors? I should have some in the third drawer over there.”
“Wait. At least let me try first,” you insist. Reluctantly, you step closer, and after a moment’s hesitation, Viktor lowers his head for better access like a feral animal letting itself be pet for the first time. He sits still, the sound of both your breaths suddenly loud in the tall, quiet room as you’re forced to step even closer. “Could you…”
You nudge his ankles apart with the tip of your shoe.
He listens.
After a stuttering, fragile exhale, Viktor spreads his thighs.
You take the space offered. And you try not to think about kneeling, about making a home for yourself between his thighs.
“Do you think you can do it?”
You wish he’d asked you that about any number of things, except for the goggles tangled in his feathery, soft hair.
But yes. You think you do.
It would have been a terrible shame to cut it — though some shorter, bluntly cut hairs that sit a little further back near the top of his head tell you his suggestion was not the product of a new idea. Carefully, you pull whatever hairs are looser from between the lens and the bridge of the goggles, though a strand remains stubborn.
You try to ignore the warmth of his breath on your shirt, the intoxicating, soapy, yet distinctively human smell of his scalp, and the mesmerizing ratio of grey to dark brown, the subtle heat on the sides of your palms and wrists, resting on his head for stability.
As you separate another few hairs from the stuck strand and accidentally tug at them, Viktor has no reaction. Beyond swallowing thickly, and sitting through it dutifully.
You wonder if he’d act just the same, had you bunched his hair into the spaces between your fingers and tugged — simply biting his tongue and chewing through the pain — or if he’s leaned into the force, moaning with it, and god, you’ve hurt him, and you haven’t even apologized.
“Sorry.” You sound twice as genuine — mainly because you apologize for much worse than the inflicted pain. “Almost done.”
“The scissors would have been faster,” he half-jokes.
His voice sounds different. A hint more… strained. He shifts in the seat, wipes his hands on his slacks.
“Would have been a shame, though. You have pretty hair.” The last part of the sentence positively escapes you, and once you hear it, you freeze. Your brain scrambles itself trying to add something that will fix the inherent following awkwardness, the horrifying realization you just called your boss pretty, the fact that it’s true, the fact that—
Viktor flinches with another accidental tug of his hair, and so do his thighs — jumping with the surprise, clenching together until they squeeze around yours. But they’re gone just as fast, flinching away with horrified urgency. Before you get to savor the supple flesh pressing into your own in another new perverted way, before you get to imagine his ankles locking behind you, tilting and rubbing your hips into the hug of his thighs.
You need. To get. A grip.
“Sorry.”
You continue on in silence, and thank everything above he at the very least can’t see the way your hands shake, because he’s staring at the floor like he could drill a hole into it with just his eyes.
You should have gotten the damn scissors. As if through divine intervention, the rest of his hair comes loose not soon after.
“Okay. All done.” You smooth the slightly crinkled, but now free strand back down into the rest of his soft hair.
Viktor’s dainty features come into view from below his face framing pieces as he tilts his chin up. His lips quirk into a gentle smile, his eyes sparkle in the faint blue glow, soft shadows under the hollow of his cheeks and the swell of his lip and the tip of his nose and the bone of his brow. You wish you could immortalize him in whatever way he’d let you — a sculpture, a painting, a poem. He looks ripe for kissing, eyes half-lidded and twice as dreamy as he peers at you.
You’re going to see him like this in your mind’s eye later tonight.
Nestled between your thighs, or kissing down your stomach, molten gold under long, dark lashes, sitting atop carved marbled bone.
“Thank you.” He says it quietly — like it would break the sudden holiness of the moment to say it any other way.
He’s so warm.
You could kiss him. See what the ozone of the room tastes like in the slick of his mouth. You wonder if he’d let you, if he’d suckle your tongue into his mouth in a show of submission, or if he’d bite your lip, licking your teeth, pressing, pushing, make you earn the privilege to taste him.
You wonder if he’d hold you, or if his curious hands would roam, tracing the front of your stomach, or your spine, or press to the middle of your breastbone like he wants to see where you’d split open for him down the middle like a ripe peach. You wonder if he’d let you dip a hand down the front of his slacks, you wonder if he’d tilt his hips into it like he’d been aching for it, aching for you. Scorching your hand with want, materialized in slick or straining hardness. You wonder which it’d be.
From where you’re standing, the distance between the apex of his chin and the space where his slacks stretch between his thighs is small — and your gaze takes the leap, searching. But the material dips and curves in such a way that you’re left none the wiser, and with nothing but a disgusting realization.
You’re staring at your boss’ crotch.
You step back from the heat between his thighs, painfully awake, aware. It squeezes and wriggles in your chest like you have a parasite lodged in the chambers of your heart.
You’re disgusting.
You need to put an end to this.
“You’re welcome, professor.”
With that, you’re practically bolting from between his thighs, to stash the scissors away again.
You’re neglecting your job, you’re putting it in jeopardy. Putting yourself in jeopardy, risking all the rumors circulating becoming a shameful truth, you’re risking the first man who ever kept up with you, followed you where you wanted to go and took you further — you’re risking it all because he makes you unbelievably fucking horny.
And it’s absurd. Embarrassing. You need to get a hold of yourself.
“I was… thinking, actually,” you begin, and want to punch yourself over how Viktor perks back up from where you’d left him. “About some things regarding my thesis that I’d like your thoughts on.”
“Oh. Of course.” You have got to be imagining the subtle disappointment in his tone. The second you let yourself believe it’s more than just a figment of your make-believe, is the second you will be doomed.
Viktor, with all his years and experience, would and does know better than to fall for his assistant. You know he does.
“What’s on your mind?” He prompts after your prolonged silence.
If he knew the half of it.
—
You’re late.
And it’s a direct, shameful consequence of last night’s lusting, the time you’d spent frustratedly tossing and turning and thinking of his mouth and his eyes and his scent, before you’d given in past midnight, and humped your hand into completion.
Thinking about him under you, about pressing your face into his neck, about pressing him into the mattress and rutting into him until he gushes and his tired body sings for you and his voice cracks. Until he breaks for you, until pleasure itself oils and unscrews all the biological cogs of his body and he comes out unstrung, reborn.
Viktor’s in a wheelchair.
And he looks worse for wear than you’ve ever encountered him before, slumping in the chair and massaging his eyelids with his thumb and index, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He’s dressed even warmer than usual, in a loose but thick, dark red sweater. There’s a colorful knitted blanket folded and set over the tops of his thighs.
Viktor doesn’t acknowledge you when you come in and sit near the whiteboard, simply resumes his lecture as he regains his mental footing. And he goes on for a while, not sparing you a single glance, as he goes through powerpoint slides today, instead of his usual writing and hand drawn diagrams.
He’s at it for a while, not as fast as his usual pace, but undeniably concise, certain. Until…
“The energy output increases proportionately to the spin, and, with powerful enough matrices, some hexgems can create force fields of their own. This is a particularly common phenomenon in unstabilized gems as well, though with the activation of their force field, those tend to also create… eh…”
Viktor stops, sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. He frowns, mumbling something in another language, which, judging by the heavy consonants and squeezed vowel, you’d assume it’s Russian. The word must be slipping his mind, so you decide to help out.
“A shock wave.”
Viktor’s gaze cuts. He’s looked at you with disinterest before, sure, but this…
He doesn’t even turn his head to look at you, just eyes you from the corner of his vision like something unworthy of acknowledgment. You wish you could swallow your words back up.
“Yes,” he says. “Thank you. A shock wave.”
You don’t say anything again for the rest of the lecture.
Once the door falls shut behind the last few students who have left the room, Viktor turns to you. You wish you could shrink; and it feels like you do, when he finally speaks.
“I appreciate your intention to help — but do not interrupt me again. I know what I’m trying to say.” He sounds utterly unlike himself, both spent and angry. “I don’t need help. Especially not in the middle of a lecture.”
“Sorry.”
That alone softens him up a hint. He looks away, rubbing his thumbs against the wheels of his chair, before he speaks again. Calmer.
“Just… do not let it happen again.”
As he slumps in his seat, massaging at his temples, you understand that his anger… might not have been as directed at you as you’d initially thought. He’d been snippy when his back hurt — having switched to a wheelchair must mean he’s in a lot more pain now.
And you understand his frustration. He’d just gotten himself an assistant a few months back, and started a new project — looking like he requires help in front of his students is certainly not doing his reputation right now any favors.
“But if there’s other things I can do to make your day a little easier, I’d like to do them.”
“No, thank you.” He shakes his head, before he grabs both wheels and advances to where he’d left his bag. As he starts packing his things, he stops again, quietly groaning somewhere in the back of his throat. “Where did I put my pen…”
Viktor eventually finds it right behind his water bottle on the table, tossing the both of them into his bag, shutting it tightly. You expect him to wheel himself over to the ramp that leads to the exit, but he just hangs his head, massaging at his temples again, before he looks at you.
“Actually, I’d like it if you went to my office and got me a silver tin box in the… fourth drawer on the left side of my desk. Do you have the key with you, or should I give you mine?”
“I have it. I’ll be quick.”
“Thank you.”
And you deliver on your promise. You don’t run, but you power walk there, and you’re back with (hopefully the right) tin box in the same lecture hall before his break ends.
Viktor takes it from you gladly, popping it open. It contains two foils of painkillers, one already half empty, a small ziploc bag of… gummies, and at the very bottom, some dark chocolate.
You must have pulled a bit of a face at the contents — particularly the gummies — because Viktor cocks a brow at you, before he faintly chuckles under his breath and pops three painkillers in one go.
After depositing the foil back in the box, he fishes out the dark chocolate bar. It looks to be the expensive kind, something Belgian — Viktor breaks off a piece, putting it in his mouth, before he holds it out to you.
“Peace offering,” he clarifies when you hesitate.
You’d be a fool to turn him down. You take some — it’s rich, buttery, and melts on your tongue. It coats your mouth with its taste, dark and aromatic and unfortunately not as sweet as you thought Viktor preferred. He’d always favored the almost disgustingly sugary cakes.
“Didn’t think you’d like something so bitter,” you say.
“I do not. It sometimes helps with my migraines,” he tells you. “Sugar makes them worse. A very… devastating discovery to make, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
You wonder if right now is the right time to be curious — and you decide it might be.
“Do the migraines also affect your leg? Or the other way around?”
“No.” Viktor shakes his head, popping off another piece of dark chocolate. “This,” he gestures at himself, the wheelchair, “was just a very unfortunate… overlapping.”
“Oh.” You grimace in sympathy. “Fun.”
“A punishment for it, more like.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
“Let’s hope my migraine eases up on me throughout this lecture.” He smiles at you — and for the first time you’ve known him, he looks old doing it. Exhausted. The face of a man who’s seen enough hardship for a lifetime, but has yet to cave under it.
You wish you could hold him. You wish you could melt it away, kiss it better, love it better. Whatever he’d let you.
You surprise both him and yourself when you lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and let your thumb rub a small circle over the wool.
Though he flinches at the first contact, once something in his brilliant mind unfurls and settles, so does he. Through the cracks, tenderness shines under the fatigue. Viktor can be soft — in spite of everything im his body and his past that protests against it. “Thank you.”
You take your hand away sooner than you’d like — but at the ideal time to keep it from being anything more than a friendly touch.
“I’m glad I could help,” you say.
—
Viktor isn’t there at all next week.
You come in on Monday to find his office empty during lunch break, and when you attend his lecture, it’s another professor from his department teaching it. The students don’t seem all too excited about the change either — and you leave before it even starts.
Heimerdinger is none the wiser about Viktor’s situation when you talk to him — in spite of their shared history. He simply tells you he’d taken the week off and had arranged for substitutes.
You consider messaging him… and ultimately end up doing so, after some internal debate. You simply text him to get well soon and that you hope he’s getting some well-deserved rest. He replies with just a plain thank you.
Tuesday is quiet. You receive a stack of midterms you need to get through from the substitute, and you do, by Thursday morning. Which is when Heimerdinger messages you.
Dr. Prof. Cecil B Heimerdinger
Good morning! I’m well aware this is on very short notice — but the substitute professor has unfortunately suffered a minor car accident. Not to worry; they only sustained small njury. However, I am finding myself forced to task you with Viktor’s lectures today. Do you think you could take care of that? Thank you.
-Cecil B. Heimerdinger
9:32
Just the thing you needed — teaching two full lectures, entirely unprepared.
Alright. You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You just need to find out what’s even on the agenda for today. You could text Viktor, right? If he answers on time, that is… he’s sick, he might as well be asleep right now. You could call, but… he said only to do that in the case of an emergency when he gave you his phone number.
Would this count as an emergency?
Your phone beeps.
Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda
There should be a black flash drive in the third drawer on the left in my desk. It has all my lectures.
9:34
Today’s topic is LHC segments naturally occurring in unstabilized gems. Feel free to use my work laptop to familiarize yourself with the presentation before the lecture.
9:35
Me
Thank you so much!
9:35
His answer comes a few minutes later, just as you fish the flash drive out of his drawer, and plug it into his laptop.
Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda
Good luck 👍
9:42
It would be a lot easier to get caught up in the desire to snoop around on his laptop if you didn’t have less than 20 minutes left until the lecture. His background is disappointingly the default image, but some of his folders look undeniably tempting — not just the scientific ones, which take up most of the space. There’s some photo albums titled with the year and location: Germany 2011, Czech Republic 2009, among many others. There’s also a photo album titled Persichka.
Who is that?
You almost click it. But then you check your watch again and realize you only have 15 more minutes until the lecture, and decide against it.
—
For how utterly unprepared you are, it goes surprisingly well. You stumble, once or twice, but you’re glad to see that even by the end of the lecture, you still have most students’ attention.
After you dismiss the class, you don’t expect questions. But a good handful of them, a little under ten, approach your desk, whispering among themselves, before a hastily appointed representative emerges.
“We were just wondering,” she awkwardly begins, “if professor Sidorov-Svoboda is alright. And when he’s coming back.”
“Oh.” You hope they’re asking because they understandably prefer him, and not because you did a particularly shabby job. “He texted me just today — he’s doing alright. But I can’t give you an exact estimate for when he’s coming back just yet.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
With that, all of them turn to go. After the last student has left the room, you reach for your phone, and pray you don’t see any other day-altering messages today.
Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda
I did not mean for you to have to do this.
10:11
You unlock your phone and jump straight into the chat.
Me
Don’t worry, it’s alright. I handled it :)
12:02
Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda
I knew you could.
12:02
Thank you.
12:02
Me
Focus on resting up and getting well soon!
12:03
Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda
I have been. I actually feel well enough for company now. Coincidentally, I’ve gotten some ideas for your thesis and I would like it if we discussed them sometime. Would you be free this weekend?
12:05
He wants to meet? Outside of the university? Undoubtedly for academic purposes still, but your heart squeezes and bounces and pops with the implications.
No. You shouldn’t let yourself hope for more than just a few formal, at best friendly hours spent together.
Viktor doesn’t want you. He would never want you — he knows better. You know better.
Me
I’d like that! Saturday works for me. Where would you like to meet?
12:05
Dr. Prof. Viktor Sidorov-Svoboda
If you’d prefer somewhere on academy grounds like my office or the coffee shop, either would be fine.
12:06
My apartment is also an option.
12:06
The choice is obvious.
#viktor arcane#viktor arcane x reader#arcane viktor x reader#arcane viktor#viktor arcane x you#reader insert#my writing
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Wildflower and Barley
Pairing: Robin Hood! Hobie Brown x princess! Reader
Word count: 10.1k
Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, medieval au, Robin hood au, royalty au, R has unnamed parents and siblings, cw food mentions, mentions of arranged marriage, cw suggestive, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff. Part 2 of the Robin Hood au.
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Octobie 🎸
Part one <<<
Now dry and out of your sopping wet clothes, and now free of mud caking your skin, you look at the various trinkets and knick knacks littered around the small yet well decorated room. Aunt Janet was kind enough to lend you some clothes and let you stay in the treehouse which surprisingly had a wooden contraption that brings you up and down the tree without you even setting foot on the ladder. Aunt Janet told you that Hobie invented it and calls it a ‘lift’. You thought he was a genius for coming up with it. Just thinking about climbing up with that huge mess of a dress of yours gives you a headache.
The room they've temporarily put you in is cozy, the bed is carved with various woodland creatures on it with vines and swimming fishes etched on the headboard. The wooden bed is covered in soft quilt blankets piled up to make the bed softer. It's pretty, you thought. Janet and the others are nicer than any captors you've ever had. Well, except for your would be suitor, you find him annoying with his pretty eyes, handsome smile, scent that wakes the butterflies in your stomach and calloused hands that are warmer than the blazing sun— you're done for.
A knock wakes you up from your stupor, turning around, you clear your throat and thoughts of Hobie.
“You decent?” His voice almost makes you dizzy, it's either that or you have a looming concussion from your recent fall. You won't know until you see him for yourself.
“Yes, I'm dressed.”
Hobie opens the door, you notice his different outfit this time. He has leather bracers on with tiny spikes protruding on each of his wrists. His blue pants fit him better now than the clothes that you surmise he nicked from an unfortunate courtier. A blue tunic with jade green thread is stitched at the hems, and a thick belt helps cinch his waist as if it needed the help. You swallow down your loud beating heart, but it doesn't help when you spot the silver and gold piercings he now has on his ears and face. His hair is more gorgeous than ever with the silver accents weaved and placed around it like tiny stars dotted on his hair.
He raises a pierced brow, hand reaching up to place it atop the doorway to lean on it while the other hand is on his hip. His waist length cloak unfurls behind him, draping him in brilliant blue, revealing the spider stitched on the cloth. Unbeknownst to you, he's admiring you too. Now without the layers upon layers of fabric hiding you, he sees the real you without all the jewels shining in his eyes and the crown glaring down at him as if he's unworthy of your gaze. He tries to shake…whatever he's feeling but it keeps coming back to him whenever he meets with your pretty eyes.
So he plays it off casually even though he could only see you in front of him and his senses seem to dull within your presence. He just chalks it up to you being attractive in his eyes. Sure, that could only be it, right?
“See somethin' you fancy?”
“No, just staring at the bow and quiver of arrows on you. Have you finally decided to kill me? I know your aim is nothing to be scoffed at.” You don't show an ounce of fear.
Hobie snorts, “nah, just admirin’ you in my room, and coat.”
You scoff, not believing that Janet would place you in his room *and dress you in his clothes. So you turn your head away to avoid looking at him. You suddenly find an unassuming lute more interesting, or rather acting like it is. “You weren't lying about the lute. Do you still play?”
He follows your gaze towards the well loved instrument. “Yeah, d’you?”
“No, but I do know how to play the piano as it was required of me.”
He raises his chin, gesturing towards you as you cross your arms atop your chest. “If you could choose, what instrument would you like to learn?”
“Why?” You chuckle at the uncommon question.
“Just askin’ ‘m a curious lad.” He shrugs with a small smile.
“The flute probably.” You sit on the soft bed. “I always loved how it sounded.”
“I think a flute would suit you, princess.” Hobie crosses the small distance, he then sits on a stool adjacent to the bed. He's quite close to you, knees brushing along your own. But not close enough to feel how your breath hitches in your throat.
“Don't mock me, Hobie.”
He knits his brows together. “‘m not, that was genuine.”
“Alright, why do you think it would suit me?” You lean closer, elbows placed atop your thighs and chin resting on your palms.
He tilts his head with a quiet chuckle. “You have the lips for it.” You're taken aback, a satisfying reaction for him. “But do you have the lungs for it, love?”
Silence stills the air around you two as you try to breathe in and out while he waits for a response with his unreadable gaze towards you.
“...stop fucking with me.” You say with a loud scoff, standing up and hitting his knees when you walk away to face the window on the far end of the room. His chuckles continue as you put your arms on your chest, huffing and puffing away the warmth from your cheeks.
“You're easy to tease, princess.” He wipes a tear from his eye after recovering from his bout of laughter. “I didn't even know you have it in you to curse.”
You abruptly turn around. “I want to get out far away from here.”
“Is my joke that bad?” He says with a raised brow.
Sighing, you put your foot down, steely gaze staring right at him. “You saw how they treated me, I don't want to marry a stranger and become like my siblings.”
“You were ready to marry me.” He pretends to not understand. Or that's what you think, he's riling you up again to get a reaction from you.
“I was pretending so the courting would stop.” A half lie on your end. You're attracted to him, sure, but you thought that marrying him would be the lesser evil than marrying some pompous rich lord who would only treat you like a walking womb. Inhaling, you continue. “I don't want to be stuck.”
Hobie's gaze turns serious. “Is that why you barely fought back?”
You rub your face tiredly. “Yes. I don't want to end up like the rest of my siblings. I want to have a life, a life that doesn't end with me dying during childbirth or being killed because of my husband's mistress hired an assassin!”
“That sounds oddly specific.”
“Because that all happened to them. I'm a sister to ghosts.” You don't realize that a single tear is sliding down your cheek. Quickly wiping it away, you don't notice his eyes filled with empathy. “I'll tell you about the secret passages in the castle that would lead you to the royal jewels.” Hobie blinks and perks up in his seat. “in exchange, you bring me with you to grab my things—”
“As much as I want to see you lock pickin’ your way in your own castle, you'd be a liability, princess.” Hobie stands up with his hands placed on his hips.
“Without me you'll get lost in the passageways. It's a labyrinth in there, I once got lost in there for an entire day before my handmaiden found me.” You explain. “After the whole ordeal, you'll flag down a ship for me heading towards the northern territories.” Walking towards him, you face him fully with your finger jabbing him at his toned chest. “Then and only then, we'll be even.”
Hobie sniffs, nodding along. “That's all then?”
“You're not gonna ask why the north? Or ask me to map the passageways instead of coming with you?”
“Why should I ask when I already know the answer, hm?” He takes a step forward, closing in on you while your accusing finger gets trapped in between him and you; in turn, you put your palm on his chest as he smirks down at you. “I won't ask you to draw a map because I don't trust you, blue blood. As for the first part— Your royal pain in the arses don't have power over in the north ever since the rebellion. And you'll be safe there until you can hitch a ride out of the country. As long as they don't find out that you're the princess.”
You don't back down, challenging him with your head raised high. “That's why you'll forge documents for me.”
“Who says I will?”
“Well, you got into the palace, and the only way you did that was taking on the identity of some poor sap who might've stopped in the middle of the road to help some injured woman or…” you push him away, looking at him up and down without shame. He looks befuddled, but he recovers quickly, expression turning into amusement. Even enjoyment from the banter. “Some man screaming for help. Either way, he has been your mark ever since you planned this whole thing. And it wouldn't have worked without some legitimate looking papers.”
“Or we stole the papers from him when we took his clothes.” He dares you.
“You could've, but you were worried that he won't have it or it might rip during the scuffle.” You click your tongue. “Hence the dried up ink, stolen seal of the registry and hundreds of balled up parchment on top of your desk says otherwise.” a smile slowly spreads across his face, a sign that you're right. “Do you want me to tell you that I was your plan B or do I have to explain to you how I found that one out?”
“I have to train you in case shit gets hairy.” He flicks his eyes downwards and then without shame, he roams his eyes up to your determined eyes. “Whip you into shape and shed all that royal ego off of you.”
“You have to train me?”
“I don't trust anybody else with you. My closest crew could but I'll still be there watchin’” Hobie reaches for your hand, waiting for you to close the deal. “You might charm the trousers off ‘em. Do we have a deal, princess?”
“Do you agree with my terms?”
He shrugs, hand still in place. “As long as you don't leave us high and dry when the time comes.”
“I give you my word, take my tiara as a sign of my cooperation.”
“I already have it.” He flicks his eyes to his hand, fingers stretching out, still waiting. You raise a questioning brow, “fine, I pinky promise, princess.”
“Once more, but without your mocking tone.”
Hobie tamps down his laughter by biting his lip, with a sigh, he relents. It's not a bad deal, you get to leave and not snitch to your parents on where Doverhill is, and he gets the jewels to feed his people and lessen any unwanted encounters with your stealth approach.
“Deal,” taking your hand, he shakes it.
“Good, when do we start?” You say with determination in your eyes.
—
Your face hits the mud covered ground with a resounding smack. Your audience cheers and Mayday’s giggles egg you on to stand up despite your face full of thick mud clinging to your cheeks.
“C’mon now, princess, it was just a shove!” Yuri teases you some more as she stands behind you.
Lifting up your head, you see Hobie leaning on the fences while munching on an apple casually. “Told you to dodge.”
You lift yourself up by your elbows, muddled eyes glaring at him. “I thought you were supposed to train me!”
“I am.” He takes a juicy bite from the fruit. “I didn't want to be responsible for marring your pretty face. And Yuri volunteered.”
“And I'm so glad I did!” She jumps up and down on the mud, invigorated by the so-called fight. “C’mon and get up, I want to show you my upper cut!”
“Oh god.” You thump your head on the mud. “I thought you'd teach me how to lock pick or even archery.”
“Nah, you gotta earn that.” He says while chewing. “We've got a month until they take out the red alert on the castle, you've got plenty of time to train, love. Besides, free entertainment.” He unfurls his long arms, and cheers erupt from the children watching you get your ass beat by Yuri.
Standing up on wobbly feet, you continue to scowl at him. “I hate you.”
Hobie does something you least expect, winking and keeping his eyes glued on your own as if he's imagining that you're the apple that he's currently taking a bite out of.
Flustered, you turn away from him. The second you put your fists in front of you, you get
knocked out by Yuri and her fierce uppercut. Darkness envelops you while you fall down on the soft ground.
You've got a long month ahead of you.
—
“Fuck!” You curse after breaking what must've been your fifteenth lock pick. Throwing it away, you thump your head against the wooden door, feeling the rough material under you. “Can I at least get the better lock pick instead of using your shitty ones?” You address Hobie, who's sitting on the bed while mindlessly strumming his lute. The sound would've been lovely but with your situation, you just find it annoying.
“You know the answer to that, blue blood.” He glances briefly at you, throwing another leather pouch at you that you already know is full of badly made lock picks. “You're stuck with me until you open the door.”
“This is torture.” You narrow your eyes at him, knees aching from how long you've been kneeling down on the floor. Not even the pillow underneath you is helping. “And this one won't even work!” You show him a bent lock pick.
He mocks you by opening and closing his hand like a yammering mouth. Your supposed mouth.
You've had enough, your stomach is growling and the back of your neck is sweating. So with a precise aim, you throw the bent metal at him. It lands straight in the hole in the middle of his lute.
“What the fuck?!” His astonishment makes you guffaw.
“I told you that we should've started off with archery.” You say in a sing-song tone. His mouth opens widely, and with you having twelve siblings, you already know what he's about to do. “Don't you dare—!” Hobie screams at the top of his lungs, prompting you to cover your ears. “You're a child!” He strums his guitar loudly and without a thought. “Stop!”
He stops to catch his breath. “I'll keep screamin’ until you unlock that bloody door.”
“No—!”
He shouts again, and you immediately try to lockpick your way out of your personal hell. The metal breaks again, and you stop yourself from throwing it at him again. At least he seems to be having fun.
—
The stew is warm in your hands and the chatter reminds you of dinners back at home when your siblings still lived there. You look at the long tables placed in the town hall where they serve dinners every night to provide a sense of community within the village. They all eat together, laughing with their families and friends while you're left standing at the far end by your lonesome.
You find that there's no place for you here.
Beginning to turn around, you feel someone tugging on your shirt. Looking down, you see a hair of red and freckles staring up at you with her big blue eyes.
“Hi, Mayday.” You give her a tight-lipped smile. You can still feel how the ground met your nose.
“Aunt Janet asked me to say sorry to you.”
You wait for her to do so.
“But I don't want to.” She says defiantly.
“Alright then.” You try to walk away but she stops you by pulling at your borrowed coat. “What is it?”
“Do you want to eat with us?” She glances behind her. When you look at the table, you see Hobie's entire crew merrily chatting and eating while the man himself meets with your eyes with a glint in those hazel eyes. Pouting, she tugs at you again. “When Aunt Janet asks—”
“I'll tell her that you apologized.”
She puffs her chest out, curly hair cascading down her cheeks. “Good,” leading you towards the table, she continues to pull at you. “You have to meet Miles and Gwen!”
As you get closer to the table, Hobie smirks and tells people to make space for you to sit down. You can't help but smile at him while Mayday excitedly introduces you to Hobie's crew that you already know by name. Of course you wouldn't tell her that, lest you get on her bad side again.
Mayday talks your ears off after getting used to you. Even after dinner and when people start cleaning up, she stays with you and asks you numerous questions about your time being a princess and living in a golden castle; all the while you braid her hair out of her face which she's happy enough to stay still for you.
“Do you bathe in milk?” She asks while you brush her hair. “Do you have a dragon?” She gasps. “A pony?!”
“No, no and yes, I did have a pony.” You chuckle.
“Did? What happened to it?”
You blink, hands pausing on her hair. “I don't know actually.”
Mayday turns around, brows furrowed at your expression. “They sent it to the farm didn't they? Hobie said that Jared is at the farm too.”
“Jared?”
“My squirrel!”
You fully understand what the farm actually is. “...Sure, probably.”
While you continue to tie her hair, you don't notice Hobie's soft gaze towards you as he leans on the doorway with his hands in his pockets and with a smile that never leaves his lips with every topic you and Mayday talk about.
“Careful now, don't fall for her.” Ned suddenly appears by his side, voice whispering, sending goosebumps on the back of his neck. “‘Don’t fall for the mark,’ remember?”
Hobie cranes his neck towards Ned, who teases him with a light smirk. “I bloody know, Neddy, ‘m not daft. She's a princess.”
“And? That doesn't mean you're immune to falling for her. Hell, there's a reason why I've kept James away from her.”
Hobie snorts, arms crossed over his chest. “James fancies her?”
“I smell jealousy, Hobart.” Ned half jokes. Hobie glares at him, jaw tightening before he opens his mouth widely. “No!” Before Hobie could yell (as if he would at night) Ned is already running away with his hands cupping his ears.
With a victorious chuckle, he returns to watch you interact with Mayday only to find a gaggle of children asking you questions and requesting for you to braid their hair too. Your smile brightens up the night while you try to placate each child with patience and a childish grin. He blinks and he meets with your eyes that look at him with a tender gaze.
He's in trouble.
—
The string in your hand is taut and rough against the pads of your fingers, a stark contrast to the smooth wooden bow in your other hand. You close one eye, aiming directly at the painted target that looks awfully like your father.
Hobie stands next to you with his own bow in hand, eyes trained on your posture, making sure you don't hurt yourself by standing close to you. The sun bares down on both of you while birds chirp, and the wind blows gently at the canopies.
“Remember to inhale before lettin’ go.”
“How philosophical.” You raise a brow, and with a sharp inhale, you let go of the arrow. It soars above, curving atop the target and landing on the grass behind it. “Damnit.”
You expect Hobie to laugh at you or tease you, instead, he walks towards you. “‘ere, let me.” With a nod, he corrects your posture. The tip of his fingers push lightly at your shoulders, straightening your back. You then feel his knuckles ghost above your spine, tracing it without touching you. “Keep your shoulders aligned with your hip.” His warmth radiates off him as he gently holds your hips, pushing and twisting you to position your body to the correct position.
You stand like a marble statue in his space, you dare not breathe, afraid that he'd let you go. “What now?” You ask while he nocks an arrow in your bow with his hands briefly brushing along your own.
“Now…” with his fingers holding your chin, he moves your head. Feeling his calloused skin on your warming flesh. “You shoot.” He whispers against the shell of your ear before leaving your side. “I know you could do better than the lockpick.”
Your head is all jumbled up because of him, how could you train in this condition? More or less shoot a sharp projectile?
“C’mon, princess, I don't have all day.” You can practically hear his smirk from his tone.
“Asshole.” You curse under your breath, nocking back the arrow to release. To his surprise but not to you, it flies overhead, much higher and farther from your last shot. The arrow overshoots, soaring over the trees and out of the village. “Ah shit.”
Now he laughs, “what happened, hm?” He nudges you with his shoulder while chortling at your miserable aim.
You glare at him, chin hidden atop your shoulder to mask your flustered self. “It was the wind.”
Hobie shakes his head with a chuckle, “don't think so.” Without looking at the target, he loads an arrow, quickly nocking it back and shooting directly at the sack target. “See?” He proves his point. Smirking, he nocks three arrows at the same time, and again he doesn't look at what he's aiming. Pulling the bow string, you can see his muscles straining from under his tunic, you barely even saw the arrows fly and hit the target simultaneously and effortlessly. Breath stuck in your throat, he smirks triumphantly at you.
“Show off.” You hide your impressed expression with a well timed scoff.
Hobie's satisfied with your reaction based on his lopsided grin. “C’mon, we need to get that arrow.” He says as he places his bow on his back, quiver placed right on his hip like always.
You groan, tired from today's activities. You're more than ready for lunch. You still have a full schedule after this session. “Why? You have plenty of arrows.” Gesturing towards the bucket full of arrows, you complain.
“Because if someone sees that they'll figure out that there's a settlement nearby.” He pats your back, urging you to walk with him. You stand there, groaning at the thought of hiking. “I can't let you go alone, can I? You might run.”
“And here I thought you were concerned for me because of the bears.” You follow him.
“If we see one I'd let it get you.” He smiles, waiting for your reaction.
“No you won't.” You roll your eyes.
You two reach the vines, he orders his people to unfurl it. “Maybe I will, maybe not. You don't know that, love.”
He passes by the ‘gates’ nodding a thank you at the guards on watch. One of them seems to look at you for far too long. Too long for Hobie's liking, he snaps his head at the said guard, prompting him to return to his duties while avoiding Hobie's gaze. You saw the whole interaction unfold, giving you the right teasing ammo.
“I didn't know that you're the jealous type.” You walk with your hands behind your back while you continue to follow him. He knows the forest better than you, and you'd rather not get lost in it.
“I don't know what you mean.” He swipes away at a branch, lifting it up to let you pass through unscathed.
You nudge him, pushing him lightly as leaves crunch underfoot. “Sure you don't.”
“You always know how to rile me up. And not the good kind.” He fights back with his own teasing.
“Likewise, Hobart—!” A protruding tree root catches your foot, making you stumble and trip over it. Before you could fall and meet the ground once again, Hobie catches you in his arms. Cheek pressed on his chest, arms holding him close.
“Should I start callin’ you clumsy?” He rhetorically asks while he's still holding you in place. You don't find it in yourself to let go.
“Anything to keep you from calling me princess.” You huff, and you see goosebumps appear on his skin.
“I'll do it if you stop callin' me Hobart.” You feel his breath fan the top of your head, and his fingers splayed over your back.
Leaning away, hands still on his chest, you look at him with feigned annoyance. “Fine.”
Hobie sees himself reflected in your eyes while leaves dance in the wind. The cacophony of the forest lulls you and him into a bubble of affection, just you and him in the vast greenery of the land you call home.
His hands latch off from you, with one last look, he leads you where the arrow could've landed. You follow him wordlessly, his back facing you while he guides you.
Soon after, the silence fades away as you hear the rushing of water. Hobie pushes a thick bush away, parting it to reveal a waterfall and a clear pool hidden in the deep forest.
It takes your breath away. “Wow.” You gasp, eyes shining at the glimmering water.
Hobie watches your reaction with a fond smile, “Pretty, innit?”
“Beautiful.” You turn towards him, smiling brilliantly.
For a moment, you two share a look, just languishing in each other's presence while listening to the water cascade down the pool.
Clearing his throat, Hobie returns his attention towards the water only to see the arrow embedded at the bottom of the mirror-like pool. He chuckles when he spots the scales underneath the tip of the arrow.
“At least you hit somethin' this time, clumsy.”
You follow his gaze, walking closer until your shoes hit the cool water. “Is that?”
“Lunch.” He grins, “and I've got the perfect place to cook it.” Gesturing with his head at the waterfall, you tilt your head questioningly. “C’mon then.”
—
You're drenched from head to toe, Hobie didn't say that you had to walk into the waterfalls to reach it. And by it, he meant his secret hideout hidden behind the waterfalls. It's a sizable cave with its moist walls and camping gear that he must've left behind for himself.
You warm yourself near the fire while he rubs salt and spices onto the fish that he's preparing. “Do you take all your women here?” A half joke on your end.
“Only the fit ones that provide lunch.” He glances at you with a smirk while you hide your face in your hands, pretending to rub it and warm yourself. “Why leave?”
“Laying it on thick, Hobie?”
“Alright, do you want bread with your fish?”
“Sure—”
“Too bad, we don't have bread.” He places the fish in the hot skillet, it sizzles in place, the smell making your stomach grumble. “So why leave your cushy life? D’you really want to be a jester?” Joking and recalling your words you uttered in the throne room a few weeks ago, you roll your eyes with a small smile.
“Simple, freedom. All my life I've been told what to wear, what to eat and when to speak. For once I want to decide for myself, even if it means leaving my cushy life behind.” You squeeze out water from your sleeve. “I–it's not like I decided on a whim. I've been trying to leave ever since I heard that I'll be the next one to be married off. I know it'll be hard after, but I know it'll be worth it.” You meet with his eyes, “Your turn, why do you have this secret place of yours?”
“For debauchery, of course.”
You chortle, “I don't know if you're lying or not.”
He mirrors your smile. “I like my silence.”
You instantly know what he means. “I have twelve siblings, I like my silence too.”
“Siblings,” he repeats with a soft smile while staring at the crackling fire. “I guess Ned and the others are my siblings.”
“I guess they are.” You say delicately. “My turn to ask the heavy question, why do you do…” you gesture at him. “All of it? The risk is higher than the reward you get for stealing shit from aristocrats, so why don't you keep it for yourself?”
Hobie turns the fish around, cooking it fully until it's golden brown, letting your question simmer in his mind. “‘m content, love, I've got my place, and I've got my people. Why do I need to hoard wealth when I've got everythin' I could ever need?” He chuckles softly, “I steal from the wealthy to give back to the people they stole from. They need it the most, and I don't do it for satisfaction, I do it so that people have a bigger chance of surviving another day when their own lords fail to provide for them. Or in most cases, their king.” The fish sizzles, filling the cave with smoky air. “I failed my people once, I won't let that happen again. You'll never understand it, princess.”
You look at him through the flames, “then let me see. Let me understand. Show me all the failings my blood has done.”
Hobie gazes back with an unreadable expression. Silence replaces the smoky air, you can only hear the cackling of the fire and the rushing of waters behind you. After a while, Hobie speaks again. “What are you plannin’ to do after all this?”
“Asking me out, Hobie?” You manage a jape after the previous heavy conversation. An attempt to lighten the silence.
“Care to find out?” Your teasing backfires. His lopsided smile makes you falter, heart thudding loudly while your skin feels like the poor fish who met the end of your arrow. He always recovers faster than you.
You look at a rock in the corner, trying to play it cool but he can't be fooled by your failed attempt at hiding your sheepish self. “...probably a flower shop.” You mutter.
“What's that, love? I can't hear you.” He riles you up again, hand placed behind the shell of his ear in a mocking fashion.
You sigh, brows furrowed and cheeks aflame. “I said I might start a flower shop.”
“I didn't peg you as a horticulturist.”
“I don't know, it just sounds nice.” You play off your lack of plan casually.
Hobie laughs and shakes his head while he takes the skillet away with a cloth around the handle. The fish still sizzles, and smells mouth wateringly good. He then takes out a knife, cutting your share while smoke wafts out of the meat. Giving you a piece, you take it without a word, embarrassment still lingering in the pit of your stomach.
He reaches for a piece himself, lifting it up like a goblet towards you. “To not havin’ plans.”
You guffaw above the rushing water, “to not having plans.” ‘Clinking’ your lunch with his, you happily eat with Hobie, occasionally laughing at the banter.
—
You make your way towards the city center with your disguise billowing in the wind. Your dark cape and hood makes you blend into the cheering crowd, oblivious to your stealthy movements. You're out of Doverhill and into the city where you were born and raised, but you've never been out in the actual streets in your entire life. You can see the castle, your home looming over the cramped city. The same city you've always looked at with longing through your bedroom window. You once dreamed of stepping foot on the cobblestone, to interact with your subjects and listen to their problems so you could help in any way a princess can. And now that you're in the thick of it, you now see the truth.
The city is filled to the brim with people surviving on measly coin for the entire day. Mothers, who have barely anything to feed their children. The elderly begging for scraps. People, *your subjects, scrounging for leftovers in the streets when up in the palace, your family and the courtiers had everything they could ever eat and more. If not for Hobie giving you one final task, a test to see if you can handle the heist that you've helped plan together with him and the rest of the crew; you wouldn't have seen how bad it is in the land you love and cherish.
You grip onto your hood tighter, wandering the streets all the while avoiding Hobie and his crew. He tasked you to pick a mark within his group to steal a single coin without being noticed or caught. If you do it successfully, you get to join them and do what you need to do before leaving the country, only to never return.
Blending into the gathering crowd, you finally see Hobie and his crew that you've grown to know. Yuri helped you with your hand to hand combat patiently, and as thanks, you made her a simple embroidery of a lily because you once remembered her talking about a flower that she couldn't remember the name of but remembers what it looked like. She was ecstatic, but Ned, who taught you how to disappear in a crowd, was a bit jealous, so you made him his own embroidery of a bumblebee. After that everyone in Doverhill wanted their own exclusive embroidery from the princess herself. It's safe to say that your embroidery classes were put to good use. The only person you haven't given a piece to is Hobie, his embroidery has been hidden in your pocket for days since you've finished it. You're too nervous to give it to him, more or less show it to him.
Hobie speaks in the middle of the crowd with boxes and crates upon crates full of food and supplies to help the people. You watch as his crew hands them out to the waiting crowd. Quickly, the air fills with gratitude, smiles and even some tears. While they're busy, you head towards Hobie and Mayday, who are occupied with a gaggle of children munching on honeyed candy while vying for their attention.
“We have a new person with us!” Mayday's excited chatter makes you pause midstep. “I can't tell you who she is but she's amazing! She taught me how to sew and write poetry.” A chorus of ‘wows’ and ‘woahs’ can be heard. “And look, she even braided my hair like how a princess wears her hair!”
Hobie chuckles by her side, coin pouch almost half empty while he gives most of it out to people. “Tell ‘em the part where you tripped her.” He spots you in his peripheral whilst you stalk on the outskirts of the crowd. It's impossible not to, as if his senses have attuned itself to your presence. He doesn't say anything.
“I did!” She proudly says, and you almost laughed.
“I thought you liked her?” A child asks, nose scrunched up.
“But back then I just didn't like her very much.” Mayday says and you almost falter as you sneakily ease your hand in James' pocket. Mayday continues to tell stories about you and your old pony while Hobie pretends that he doesn't see you.
Yuri suddenly appears by his side, nudging his shoulder. “Should I tell him?” She chuckles, whispering to him. “I gotta hand it to her, she chose the most oblivious one to steal from.”
“Taught her well,” Hobie mutters back, “don't tell him or her. Let it happen.”
“Is this one of your brilliant plans?”
“Maybe.” He sees you scurry off to an alley all without James or people noticing you. Smiling fondly, he returns his attention to the task at hand. “We need to hurry up and distribute these before the guards get ‘ere.”
“Aye, aye.” Yuri turns away with a knowing look that Hobie has a feeling he knows the reason what it pertains to.
—
You watch as the sun gets smaller and smaller on the horizon. The sea is calm while the salty breeze flutters your lashes. The hustle and bustle of the dock has calmed down ever since you made yourself comfortable on a crate. Munching on a loaf of bread, you watch a ship leave the dock, its anchor slowly emerging from the waters.
“You're late, Hobie.” You felt him before you saw him. Looking over your shoulder, you see him in a similar cloak and hood, bow and arrow hidden behind him. “I got the coin from James, but…” you show him the half eaten bread in your hand. “I used it already.”
Hobie admires you in the orange and pink hues, your eyes seem to glow in the light, while your lips curl into a gentle smile. He inhales, making his way towards you, leaning on the dock bannister, and watching the ship sail away into the fading horizon.
“Can I have some?” He asks, head turning towards you.
You grin with a chuckle, breaking the loaf apart to give the biggest side to him. “Here, you look like you need it more than I do.” You poke at his cheek, feeling his tired muscle underneath it.
“Runnin' away from your guards is hard work.” He takes a bite, “do I look that bad?”
Without thinking, you reach for the corner of his lip to wipe away a crumb stuck on it. “Nothing like a good nap couldn't fix.” Realization hits you, flinching away, you play your behaviour off by returning your attention towards the sea. “Sorry.” You clear your throat.
Hobie stands there, frozen and in the middle of chewing. Swallowing down the bread and his sudden nerves, he brushes his knuckle over your cheek where dirt clings onto your skin unbeknownst to you.
“Now we're even.” He says gently, and you gaze at him through glassy eyes and warm cheeks. With a sigh, he moves away, casually finishing off the bread. “D’you need anythin’ else for tomorrow?”
You take a deep breath, eyes glancing over to the castle. “Guts?”
“Don't think we can get that from the shops, love.”
You chortle, fingers playing with the hem of your cloak. “You didn't exactly give me this test to see if I can successfully pickpocket someone right?”
Hobie turns sideways to look at you fully, still leaning on the handrail. “No.”
“You wanted me to see this.” You gesture around the city. “And how bad the situation here is.” He nods, eyes trained on you. “If I had known…” you ball your fists around the fabric of your trousers. “...I could've done something. Anything.”
“Could've, would've, should've. The important thing is that you're ‘ere now.” He tentatively takes your hand, you're cold under his palm as he feels you slowly warm up from his touch alone. He gives you enough space to let go. But you don't. “You're doin' somethin' now. You're better than them.” He points at the palace behind you. “And if all goes well tomorrow, you've helped more than they have ever since they've taken the throne.” Squeezing your hand, he lets you fall atop him, your face hidden on his shoulder. “You’re good, Y/N, I know you are.”
You let go of his hand, arms embracing him fully. “You're good too, Hobie.” While you hold him, you sneak the embroidery of a bow and arrow you made inside his pocket.
With his arms around you, the moon slowly appearing in the sky, and face on the crook of your neck, he lets you cry while his palm rests on your shoulder blades, gently caressing. Your words have sparked something in him, and your touch ignited it within him, warming him up from the inside out. It doesn't engulf him nor burn him, it soothes him at his core, and he sense that you can feel it too through his chest.
—
Your hands are sweaty while gripping the dessert cart. The sweet confections wobble while you make your way towards the kitchens. Dressed in the cook's attire, you blend in with the rest of the busy staff walking briskly on the marble floors.
The plan was to split up, to dress like the staff and infiltrate the castle with only your disguises. You all plan to meet up at the library where the main tunnel leads towards the royal apartments where the crown jewels are located. If everything goes to plan, they'll have the jewels in their satchels without ever being noticed.
Your eyes dart around the halls, trying incredibly hard not to stick out like a sore thumb. *So far so good. You think to yourself, attempting to calm your nerves. Some staff glance at you but they thankfully let you go without questioning you and why you're pushing a cart full of cakes towards the library. The courtiers don't even pay you any heed.
Out of danger for now, you walk faster when you see the double doors leading to the library you've spent most of your days in.
“Halt!” A deep voice calls after you, and you stop in your tracks, hands already shaking.
“Yes?” You fake your voice, eyes downturned to hide your face.
“Where are you heading?” He asks, head gesturing towards the tea and cakes.
“The library, s–sir.”
“I've been patrolling this hallway for hours and not a single person has entered the library.” He narrows at you suspiciously.
You clear your thoughts, determination surpassing over your anxiety. “Lady Caroline has asked me to deliver them in advance. Says she has some sort of meeting with the other court ladies.” It's a long stretch, but the said lady is known for her gossiping circles.
“Hmm,” he straightens up, thankfully not recognising you and believing your bold lie. “Go ahead, just don't make a mess.”
“Understood.” You don't look back as you make your way towards the doors. Shutting it close, you can finally breathe on your own. “We made it.” You shakily walk towards the long table at the center of the large room, chest heaving, and pupils fully dilated. “I— fuck.”
A sudden hand grasps your bicep gently which almost made you yelp in surprise. “Just breathe, it's over.” Hobie has come out from under the cart to soothe you by rubbing his palm up and down your trembling arms. “Y/N, can you look at me?” With his fingertips, he moves your head to face him. “There you are,” he smiles, “breathe with me, yeah?”
You nod, hand upon his clavicle, eyes watching his chest go up and down while you mirror him. “I—I thought I fucked it up.”
“Nah, you did brilliantly. I thought I had to shoot an arrow at his eye.” He pats your cheek, thumb tracing under your eye. “You alright?”
“I think I am now,” you whisper, eyes darting over to his lips, and breathing normalized. “Are you?”
“Nothin' gets the heart pumpin’ than almost gettin' caught.” Hobie says softly as he gazes at your own lips. He says your name as if he's tasting it on his tongue. “Can I—?”
He aches for you.
“Yes.”
And you yearn for him.
The doors open with a squeak, and out comes Yuri in her handmaiden dress with her eyes wide and blinking at the two of you. You and Hobie freeze on the spot.
Her surprise turns into amusement. “Am I interrupting something?”
You're the first one to move away, acting casually as if she didn't catch you in the act. Meanwhile, Hobie finds the rows of books more interesting than Yuri smirking at him.
“No, you're just in time, Yuri.”
She hums with a knowing gaze at the two of you. “Bet you two wished I was late, huh?”
“No.” You and Hobie manage to say simultaneously. Hobie clears his throat while you grab a discarded book to hide your face under. You can practically hear all the future teasing that you'll face after this.
“Where are the others?” Hobie recovers much faster than you could. “They should be ‘ere by now.”
“Don't know, I didn't see them in the halls.”
Their words concern you as minutes tick past. While the three of you wait, you find the hidden passage hidden behind one of the bookshelves. After a quick scan, you see the book you've been looking for. The cover is in a deep shade of blue, the title worn down from the years, but you can briefly read the words ‘between’ and ‘sea’ on the fading paint. You've read it dozens of times, but so far you still don't know the title.
Before you could reach for it, the doors opened once again, much louder this time. Instead of just Ned, James and the rest of Hobie's crew, they're joined by someone. They dragged the guard that was patrolling outside. His body is limp but still clearly breathing while Ned and the crew drags him further inside the library.
“Can we get some help here?” James huffs, hands occupied with the guard's legs.
“What the bloody hell happened?” Hobie rushes towards them, helping get the man inside the room.
“Shit happened.” Ned pants, “we don't have time so we'll explain later. For now we need to tie him down.”
“My specialty.” Yuri reveals a thick rope from under her apron, “help me with his arms.”
Hobie glances towards you, shrugging his shoulders with a ghost of a smile. “Open it, love.”
You nod, giving him a smile. With a yank on the book, the secret passage opens with a wooden groan. It opens a smidge, so Hobie helps you with pushing it further open.
“Love, huh?” James mutters under his breath. Ned snickers by his side.
The tunnel is dark and dank, air stale and moist. The walls are lined with thick cobwebs upon cobblestones. There's not a single light in place as the breeze drifts inside.
“A bit creepy innit?” Hobie glances at you, “can't believe you slept in a castle with jester tunnels behind your bedroom walls.”
“When you put it that way, yes, that's fucking creepy, Hobie.” You chuckle as he chortles back.
“Move over, love birds.” Yuri pushes the two of you away from the door with a flaming torch in hand. “We have to steal some shit remember?” She says over her shoulders, and the rest follows her with a teasing grin on their lips except for James who has a deep frown. “And you have a ship to catch, princess.”
“Oh,” you almost forgot about you leaving for a second. Hobie glances at you, smile faltering. “Y–yes, I remember, of course.” Stepping inside the passageway, you make your way towards the front of the group as Yuri passes you the torch. Hobie stays a few ways behind the group, eyes trained on your back. “Let's go.”
—
Your hand glides along the wall, feeling every indent and curve of the rocks. You know the tunnels well enough to know about the secret markings etched on the walls. Every two feet you walk, there's a subtle ‘x’ carved on the stone. If you pass by a wall that doesn't have that mark after the last two feet, then you could get lost if you don't retrace your steps. So with measured steps, you carefully guide the group through the tunnel, making sure that they're holding onto each other and to you. You've learned this trick after your older brother taught you how to sneak into the library at night without being noticed. You have no idea how he is now.
Hobie's hand upon your shoulder is gentle, you can feel his reassuring squeeze every time you shakily breathe in the dusty air.
You pass by a door on your right, remembering that it's your father's study. You almost ignored it but with your name being uttered by his advisor, you stop your movements while the others follow suit. Moving closer to the door, you look at the crack in the wood, seeing your father at his usual place in his study, and your mother sitting nearby. A testament to their love. They had a lot of love to give each other, but none left for their children.
“My king, I think it's high time we start looking for the princess again. After the first ransom note there was nothing else. I fear for her safety.”
Your father continues to scribble away at his paperwork, while your mother sits near the window with a cup of tea daintily in her hand. They look unbothered. They did stop looking for you.
“Don't worry about her, she has always been independent. I'm sure Robin Hood will grow tired of her and is about to give her up any moment now.” The queen says without missing a beat or a forlorn tone for her missing child. “What news does my son bring? Another grandson?”
“Which prince, my queen?”
“The one with the heavily pregnant wife, Jeeves.” She scoffs out, entirely forgetting about you, and your brother's name.
“Ah, my apologies. I heard that the baby girl was born healthy, but his wife is in dire condition. The prince is beside himself, in fact he requests for your presence—” Your father’s adviser says with a solemn tone.
“Pity.” She could only say.
You couldn't continue hearing her words and his lack of them. “Let's…” your eyes water, lips wobbling. “...we need to go.” Hobie calls your name softly, thumb pressing carefully on your shoulder blade, trying to calm you down. “I'm alright. Let's continue.” You ignore their looks of concern.
A heavy silence follows you and the crew, making your way towards the crown jewels through tear filled eyes, you manage to guide them in the room without getting lost. You shed off your cook uniform, donning the tiara you left with. Even without your gown, you hope that it's enough to convince the guards inside that it's still you.
“Stay here, I'll knock three times when they're gone.” You murmur.
“Are you— will you be alright?” Hobie asks gently, palm cupping your cheek.
You give him a weak smile. “I will be once we get what we came for.” Cracking the door open, you make your way inside before Hobie could express his concern.
—
The group lies in wait behind the closed door within the dark tunnel. The light from the torches are starting to burn out, leaving them with only the sunshine coming from the crack in the door for a shed of light.
The second Hobie's starting to get agitated and worried for you, he grabs the door knob with protests from his crew. But before he could open the door, he's met with you staring back at him.
“They're gone.” You say as you open the door wider for them. Sure enough, the only soul left in the room is you. “I told them that I escaped and for them to get the physician. It took some convincing but they eventually left.”
The others pat you in the back, eyes widening at the glittering jewels and crowns sitting on tables and shelves. But Hobie's eyes were only on you, hands already reaching for your own.
“You should go, I think we only have fifteen minutes before they march back here.” You try to walk away but Hobie holds onto you, fingers laced around your own, warmth helping you at ease. “Hobie, I'll be fine. Help the others.”
He glances at his crew who are efficiently working together by lock picking and grabbing the jewels that they can easily carry and transport. They're not blinded by the shining large crowns and scepters, but only taking whatever they can hold in their satchels. One precious stone could feed the whole village for a year, and one crown could provide for the whole city for six months.
“They can handle it, you said you needed to grab somethin'. Let me help you.”
You stare at his worried eyes. “It's not— are you sure?”
“Yes, you said fifteen minutes and we're already at thirteen. No time to lose, love.” His lips curl into a smile, hand bringing your own to his chest.
“My lucky number.”
—
Without wasting another minute, you arrive at your apartments. Its familiar purple walls take you back, your bed is made and fluffy, closet and desk clean as if you never left.
Hobie's hand is still grasping yours as if he's afraid that someone would snatch you away and drag you into the dark tunnels. His eyes roam around your room with a faint smile, he admires your portrait on the wall above the fireplace.
“D’you think if I nick this one I'll get away with it?”
“You're stealing from the crown and you think stealing my portrait would get you a bigger punishment?” You chuckle, letting go of his hand reluctantly to grab your satchel hidden under your bed.
“Yes, this is the real treasure right ‘ere.”
You poke your head from under the bed, meeting with his eyes and his wide grin. “If you keep saying stuff like that I'd think you're being genuine.” Going under again, you reach for the strap of your bag, and you finally grab it from under the dusty bed.
“When was I not genuine, hm?” You come out only to be met with his smirk. He flicks away a dust bunny clinging on your tiara while you gawk at him.
“You're not joking?”
“No,” he says seriously. “I meant everythin’ I've said and more.” Kneeling down, he fixes the tiara above your head. “Besides, I wanted a reminder of you once you're gone.”
“Do you want me to leave?” You reach for his jaw, thumb grazing along his stubble.
He could only smile, afraid that if he audibly said no, you won't go and do what you've always planned to do. He doesn't want to bar you from leaving or sway you into staying. It's your decision, and whatever you decide to do, he'll be right behind you.
Tears cling to your lashes as you caress his cheek. You want to stay, but not just for Hobie and the people you've grown to love. But also your subjects, your people that you could still help by staying. Something that you could not do if you left. You're conflicted. “You don't have to take the whole painting. I have a smaller one in my drawer.”
“Alright.” Hobie stands up despite his feelings swirling inside him. He helps you up, and follows you towards your desk.
You open a drawer, giving him a circular frame that contains an exact copy of your portrait. “To remind you of me. Or to sell it once you're bored of my face.” You joke.
“I’ll never get tired of your face.”
You have an intense urge to kiss him. Instead, you reign yourself in, “let's get back to the others. Then let's get the fuck out of here.” He nods in agreement. Before you could follow, you leave your letter that you've written days ago for your family. It contains everything you've wanted to say to them, every ire, and sorrow you could translate from ink to paper.
Hobie waits for you in the doorway, arm holding up the tapestry that hides the passageways. You look at him and you see your future, would it be selfish of you if you stayed? Or would it be better if you just left?
With one final look at your old life, you leave it all behind.
—
The clinking of silver and gold rings around the tunnel as you lead the group out of the castle. The smiles on their faces can't be wiped away even when the torch burned out a while ago and your only guide was the marks on the walls. Despite the hiccups, you all made it out into the beach in one piece and with bags full of jewelry enough to take care of everyone.
Ned hoots and hollers on the beach while Yuri lies on the sand with a huge grin on her lips. And James hides his sobs by laying face first on the beach while a crab tugs at his hair. The others are getting the loot on board the fishing boat while they sing a merry tune.
You watch them carry your family jewels with a fond smile. A brooch peeking from one of the bags catches your eye, it's the one piece of jewelry your mother is fond of, except for her crown. You know that it'll be used for a better cause now instead of gathering dust on the shelves.
Smiling, you hear Hobie's footsteps upon the sand. “Havin' second thoughts about your crown jewels?”
You shake your head. “No, none of them holds any sentimental value to me.” Reaching for your tiara, you hand it to him. “Even this one. Let Mayday play with it, I think she'll appreciate that.”
Hobie chuckles and sits down next to you while the others finish off loading the boat. His hand traces the emeralds and diamonds on your tiara before placing it gently on his lap. You see him take something from his pocket, which he immediately shows to you.
“Maybe this one will hold sentimental value.” A simple silver necklace hangs from his hand, you could cry from the sight of it. “It's not from your family. I bought it yesterday while we were in the city.”
“Is that why you were late?” You laugh with tears filling your eyes. Your fingers gently graze the chain, feeling the cold metal against your skin. The smile on your face hasn't faded. Recognition hits you, and your eyes immediately fly towards his neck where a similar silver chain rests upon his skin.
He doesn't only see the crown atop of your head. He sees you. And you truly see him as the one you would love until your dying breath.
Hobie notices your awed expression, “it's identical to mine. I would've gotten you a pendant to go with it—”
“Help put it on me?”
“Sure,” he tells you to turn around, smiling while his hands brush along your neck as he clasps the necklace on you. Once it's secured, his thumb hovers on your nape, eyes warm on your skin. “I— thank you for the help. I've got your papers ready, and if it weren't for you keepin’ your word—!” His words get smothered by your lips upon his own. Your kiss catches him off guard, eyes wide open, not knowing what to do with his hands, and lips not kissing back. You take it all as rejection.
You quickly lean away, “fuck— I'm sorry. I thought—”
He grabs your face, lopsided smile and lovestruck gaze staying on you. “You thought right, love.” His lips meet your own, within a second, you kiss in tandem as if you two were meant to be. He thinks so too.
The crew's claps interrupt you, even with their cheers (except for James) Hobie doesn't let your face go in his warm hands.
“Rule breaker!” Ned shouts with a proud smile.
“Fucking called it.” Yuri claps, “Janet owes me a coin.”
Hobie flips them the bird, all the while sharing your smile. He turns towards you again, eyes soft for you. “C’mon, before they attract the guard's attention.”
“Wait, Hobie.”
“Love—”
“Before this I had no purpose. I was just existing with a crown on my head.” You stand up and you help him up on his feet, with his other hand carrying your tiara. “I want to keep helping my people, I will not abandon them like they have.” You look up at the palace, its shadow encompassing you. “I see that now, thanks to you and them.” You address the crew behind him.
“Is that what you want?” Hobie cups your cheek, not even hiding the fact that he's happy about your decision. He still tries to hide it though. And he's failing miserably. “Just say the word and I'll take you to the docks—”
“I want to stay here with you. That's my plan.” You pull him by his bow strap that's over his shoulders, thumb placed on his clavicle. Eyes crinkling at the corners and incredibly lovestruck by the man before you. “Because I found my purpose right here.”
“As you wish, love.” With a smile, Hobie leans close for another kiss, one of many to come in your future with him, and part of his band of merry men.
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#octobie#octobie wild card#octobie'24#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#atsv x reader#the kr8tor's creations#atsv hobie#atsv fanfiction#hobie brown x fem!reader#hobie x reader#hobie fluff#hobie fanfic#hobie brown#robin hood au#medieval au#princess! reader#spider punk fanfic#x reader#fanfic#hobie brown fluff#hobie brown imagine#robin hood! hobie x reader#cw food mention
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Best Student Ever | Song Mingi ☆
~ ~ call me chérie ☆
Navigation | Kinktober List
☆ Day 10 : Edging/ Oral
↬ [ Synopsis ] : If Mingi had to describe you in two words, they’d be unpredictable and heavenly. After all, who shows up unannounced and sucks the life out of him, doing it exceptionally well? Only his best student.
Word Count : 1.5k Genre : Smut, Professor Au. Pairing : Professor! Mingi x Student! F.Reader
WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), Oral (m recieveing), messy blowjob, slight throat fucking, best BLOWJOB he had ever recieved, teasing, massive thick dick Mingi, gag reflex, pet names, student teacher relationship, forbidden relationship.
Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list
☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 10 and its our giant princess Mingi’s turn. Hope you like it my loves. Enjoy! ma chéries ☆.
Overwhelmed by pleasure, Mingi felt on the verge of passing out. His eyes fluttered shut as he bit down on his arm, muffling the groans that threatened to spill out.
And who had this giant man breathless and at her mercy? You, Y/n!
What’s your relationship with Mingi? Student,he taught you anatomy.
—
It all started on that one random afternoon. Semester break it was.
“Y/n, how are you pre-med studies going on ?Any doubts or something” your dad, Hongjoong asked.
“They are going great. Just a few doubts here and there, but I have’em all covered up, daddy.” you replied confidently. You were a good student, an exceptional one at that so keeping up with pre-med stuff wasn’t really that hard.
But what really hard was to keep you eyes from wandering over you extremely hot, freshly single, deep voiced anatomy teacher. Song Mingi.
“Is Mingi doing a good job ?” he enquired, checking if his friend was teaching his daughter well or not.
Being Hongjoong’s daughter you did recieve special attention from your peers and teacher, Mingi being no different. He showered you with a lot of attention, extra private hours for doubts, a first hand look at revision questions all being part of the special treatment.
Was Mingi your professor at university?Yes.
And he’s also your dad Hongjoong’s friend?Yes, a very close one.
Wait, is your dad the college dean? Also yes.
“Yes daddy. Perfect. He is perfect…I mean his lectures are perfect” you stuttered, going off track a bit but gaining composure again. “I do have doubts with some Anatomy concepts, but I get’em sorted out later” you admitted honestly.
Daddy being dean you gotta be honest else your ass gonna be whipped.
"Get them sorted now. Mingi is spending his break at home anyway. He’ll be happy if you show up to discuss studies." Hongjoong advised, urging you to visit Mingi at his home.
"Are you sure, daddy?" you asked, just for confirmation. Not that it was needed,you were going to go anyway.
You had missed his pretty face all summer, and not seeing him had been frustrating. But showing up unannounced didn’t feel quite right, so you decided to send him a quick text. Mingi usually responded fast to his students.
No reply. Text sent 10 minutes ago.
You gave him a call. No answer. You called again. Still, no answer.
Why isn’t he picking up? And why am I not turning back to go home?
And just like that, you ended up in front of his house, a few blocks away from your own, within walking distance.
It was supposed to be a simple teacher-student doubt-clearing session, after which you’d leave.
But, of course, he had his phone silenced and didn’t know you were coming.
As you had to walk in on him sitting on the living room couch, fisting his massive length as he tried to cool off the tension in his body, boiling in the summer heat, made worse by the fact that he was correcting your semester papers.
Dumbass!, he forgot to lock the door while he was moaning with that deep, hoarse voice.
The sight before you had your mouth watering, your professor, the man you’d fantasized about more times than you could count, whose wet dreams left you hot and drenched, was now in such a vulnerable state, looking extra hot as he rubbed his massive hands up and down his equally massive, hard length.
"May I help, Sir?" Your voice froze Mingi, halting all his actions in an instant, blood rushing to his face as he turned to face you.
What is she doing here? Why—how the hell did she get in? Fuck, I forgot to lock the front door. Idiot! Absolute motherfucking idiot!
A million thoughts ran through Mingi's mind, along with excuses he was desperately trying to come up with.
"Umm... help? Help with what, Y/n?" he asked, laughing nervously, desperately trying to ignore the elephant in the room. Ignoring his question, you walked towards him, kneeling in front of him. You definitely got your daddy's confidence.
"With that. I can help." you said with a playful smirk, pointing to his angry cock, hard and desperate for release.
"Y/n! No, that’s not right. We shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be here. Why are you even here?" Mingi blabbered.
The poor professor was a mess, and your confidence wasn’t helping. You took one swift kitten lick along his tip, and that was it. His brain shut off, a wave of newfound pleasure registering as his complaints turned into compliments.
"Oh my god… yeah, just perfect… you’re so good."
His approval made you shoot him a glance through your long lashes, blinking innocently. But you were anything but innocent.
Your fierce kitten eyes, without the glasses he was used to, sent a shiver down his spine. Never had he seen eyes so intense. Your smirk grew as Mingi whimpered while your tongue swirled around his tip, cleaning off the pre-cum he’d released while jerking off earlier.
"Y/n, baby, stop teasing your professor." he groaned, almost pleading as he watched his favorite student take him entirely into your mouth like the good girl you were. His hands ran across his forehead, wiping the thick sweat from both the summer heat and the pleasure your mouth was giving him.
He brushed a few stray hairs off your face, eventually gathering them all into a makeshift ponytail as your mouth worked in perfect rhythm, bobbing and licking up his massive length. Your hands, bored of sitting idle, shifted—one to hold his base while you continued to work him, and the other to play with his balls. Mingi inhaled sharply at the sudden touch on his sensitive balls.
Your jaw was hurting, pleasurably stretched by his unbelievably girthy cock, but the sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat was too addictive to care about the pain. You hollowed your cheeks, trying to fit every vein that popped out as Mingi breathed heavily, holding back with all his might not to mouth-fuck you.
"Close… ahh… close, baby." Mingi whined, your ferocious tongue work sending goosebumps all over his body. Unable to hold back any longer, Mingi harshly yanked you down, forcing his entire length into your mouth, his tip deliciously hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.
You moaned at the sudden rough treatment as he rolled his hips into your mouth. Despite the intensity, your tongue continued to lick and satisfy him, while he used your mouth like his personal Tenga, sending vibrations through your entire being.
"Arhh, fuck... fuck!" Mingi grunted. You could feel him twitch inside you—he was almost there, ready to release. Your hands massaged his balls, giving them one cheeky little squeeze, pushing him off the edge of his pleasure mountain as he emptied himself into your mouth.
Thick ropes of white cum spurted into your mouth, some of it leaking from the corner of your lips. Mingi's thighs shook, and his hips stuttered from the intensity of the release he just experienced, all thanks to your wonderfully heavenly mouth.
Mingi pulled out slightly, only to jerk back into your mouth, the roughness causing you to gag again as he gave the last of himself. Your flushed face, eyes teary, cheeks a shade of crimson, with his slick all over your mouth, made him hard again. You swallowed it all, the sight driving him wild.
Mingi had never experienced anything like this—especially not with one of his students. It was an unbelievable, forbidden sin he was tasting for the first time. The experience was so intense and heavenly, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be the last of its kind.
You stood up, wiping your mouth. No words were spoken; just a smirk danced on your lips, your eyes twinkling as you admired the huge man, a mess before you, feeling proud of the blowjob you’d just delivered.
"See you after the break, Prof" you said, glancing at the clock. You turned around and walked toward the door. Mingi watched you wave goodbye as you disappeared, still breathless, recovering from the best orgasm of his entire life.
Having experienced many blowjobs in his life, he could tell this was by far the best and most intense. You hadn’t uttered a single complaint about his sheer size and had satisfied him like the best student you were.
"Goddammit. What is this girl doing to me?" Mingi thought, groaning and rubbing his hardened member again as the pleasurable moments replayed in his mind like a movie reel.
He began imagining all the positions and places he could take you in once the semester break was over cause this isn't over yet.
Would Hongjoong be mad? Only if he finds out.
Anyhow, Best Student Ever!
—
"Ahh, Y/n! You're back." Hongjoong said as you returned after almost an hour and a half. Not a single hair was out of place, and you looked just as fresh as when you had left the house. Your best friend Ryujin deserved the a big fat thanks for letting you drop by to clean yourself up.
"Yes, daddy. Got all my doubts cleared,. you replied with a wide grin.
"That's good. Mingi definitely deserves a raise after this." he mused, thinking about his friend as you headed to your room.
Sure, Daddy… for fucking sure.
I deserve one too...but from the Prof.
~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off
DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.
© ShixCherie.
#kpop#kpop smut#kpop fluff#professor au#kpop imagines#ateez#ateez smut#ateez fluff#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez mingi#song mingi#mingi x reader#mingi smut#mingi fluff#mingi fic#atz#atz smut#kinktober 2024#shixcherie
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🪞 🔮 🍅 🧺 🍯 🌱 The Farmer & The Wizard
❦ SUMMARY ❦
You need a change, a big one. When your estranged grandfather passes away and bequeaths you his farm in a little town just south of the middle of nowhere, you take it as the sign you needed to make a change instead of waiting for one.
The farm, while having fallen into a state of disrepair, is just the thing to cure your modern-world ailments. The people are kind and always ready to offer help, if a bit unusual. They have old superstitions, a haunted community center, and a resident wizard. Spoiler alert: those last two on the list take some getting used to.
Yes, things are different here but you have a sneaking suspicion that the slow pace and a certain alchemical practitioner are going to remind you that sometimes, all you need is time and a little bit of magic.
THIS SCROLL WAS LAST UPDATED: 6/1/24
❦ STATS ❦
Pairing: Wizard!Gojo Satoru x Farmer!Reader
Rating: M for Mature, 18+ only minors do not interact
Warnings: Fantasy/Stardew Valley violence, sexual content, angst (maybe like just a tiny lil bit)
Tags: Stardew Valley AU, strangers to friends to lovers, red thread of fate, soulmates (kinda) eventual smut, fluff focused, canon divergent, more tags to come (literally am too excited, I need to get this masterlist post out in the world lol)
Projected Word Count: 100K
Author’s Note: In unsurprising news, I have still been in the trenches with my Stardew Valley hyperfixation. Then, along comes this lovely PC Gojo mod and the fate of this fic was sealed. It's going to be inspired a touch by that mod (which I will link below, full credit to that amazing modder) and will heavily follow a standard Stardew Valley play through timeline. I'm a lil nervous to write Gojo since he doesn't fall neatly into the character type I normally am drawn to but I have WRITING HANDS (like jazz hands but for writers :P ) and so I'm adding another fic to my WIPs list.
Important Note: This fic is part of this blog's contribution to the @ficsforgaza initiative!
❦ LINKS ❦
Fics for Gaza Masterlist <- now linked! ->
GOJO MOD FOR PC'ERS
JJK Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Playlist
Moodboard
❦ TABLE OF CONTENTS ❦
SPRING
Part 1: In Which You Unexpectedly Receive The Deed to A Farm
Part 2 | In Progress | TBL
SUMMER
Placeholder
AUTUMN
Placeholder
WINTER
Placeholder
This work and its digital elements (credit for pixel art to ConcernedApe) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2020-PRESENT. I do not own any rights to Stardew Valley and any subsequent settings/characters, but this work is heavily inspired by that amazing game. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.
#fic: the farmer and the wizard#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#stardew valley#stardew valley au#stardew valley fic#kait writes
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the proposal & the engagement
[blake hughes au]
request(s): Nico and Blake. Can u do something where Nico ask her to marry him? Maybe when they win the Stanley cup? & Nico proposing to Blake! Maybe at the lake house or in Switzerland?
word count: 1.4k
the past few games were tight, and blake could feel the tension in her body as she watched the periods drag on. the devils needed this win to take the cup, and the energy in prudential echoed the importance of the game.
"i think i'm going to be sick," blake announces as nico jumps onto the ice in the third period. "we're so close," she says, squeezing the hands of jesper bratts girlfriend.
"i don't think i can watch," one of the other wags replies before throwing her hands up in front of her face.
before anyone else can succumb to their nerves, meier shoots the puck into the back of the net and the arena erupts into cheers. "theres still two minutes left!" blake shouts, locking arms with the girls beside her. they were all wrought with anxious nerves and energy, that the only thing they could think of doing was hold onto each other.
the rest of the game goes by quickly, and it's announced that the devils won the game. "they did it!" blake screams, jumping up with the rest of the girls. she quickly grabs her phone, making sure to take a quick few shots of nico and her brothers celebrating their win.
soon enough, blake and the families were brought onto the ice. there wasn't a second to congratulate her brothers before nico scooped blake up in his arms.
"we did it, schatz" nico beams with excitement as he hoists blake up into the air. she wraps her legs around his waist easily, the words "Hischier 13" proudly on display across the back of her jacket.
"i'm so proud of you," blake cries, pulling away from nico's neck to kiss him. "you played so good... i love you... that was so hot..." she speaks between enthusiastic kisses.
when they finally calm down a little and blakes set back on her feet, nico makes blakes heart start racing again. "marry me," he says simply, as if it's the most normal thing to ask after winning the stanley cup.
"what?" blake gasps, her hands never loosening from around his waist.
"marry me, please schatz" nico repeats, a doopy smile etched across his face.
blake squeals, and repeatedly nods her head in approval. "yes - yes of course i'll marry you!" she removes her hands from around his waist and instead places them on both sides of his cheeks. nico leans forward and softly kisses blakes pillowy lips before theyre dragged apart by excited family members - nobody but themselves aware of the proposal.
∞♡
a few days later, when they are no longer hungover and exhausted, blake brings up the proposal again. "you know, when you propose there's usually a ring..." she teases.
nico looks at her softly and blake swears she could melt with the intensity of his beautiful brown eyes. "it's coming, i have plans set up" he assures her, opening up his arms which she gladly walks into.
she lays her head on his chest, "a double proposal... this is very intense,"
"nothing but the best for you," he kisses the top of her head, ignoring the mess of suitcases and clothes strewn around their room for their upcoming trip to switzerland. "i can't wait to give you the ring," he kisses her again.
"i'm waiting happily.. just don't take too long. i cant wait to 'officially' be your fiancée," blake leans up to look nico in the eyes once more.
"you won't have to wait long, i'm too excited to be your fiancé" nico smiles.
∞♡
blake.hughes
📍 valais, switzerland
liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, trevorzegras, and 42 871 others
blake.hughes sundays <3
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nicohischier waking up next to u is my favourite part of the day❤️🌞
jackhughes did not need to see the first pic but its nice that u two are having fun!
lhughes_06 sundays <3 at the lake house pls im bored
jackhughes missing ur dad ?
lhughes_06 that was a long time ago.. it's time we moved on
lucahischier no tag but im right there in the 2nd pic...
bestie ur glowing !!
user07 mom and dad are in switzerland🫡❤️
user51 she looks so happy ugh i will never get over them😭🫶
user23 the last pic.... ohhh blakes been feeding us for YEARSS
the first week in nico's hometown goes by in a blur. every relative, close friend, and neighbour wanted to congratulate nico and there were lots of catching up to do after the long and tiring season.
also, blake was proud to announce that her german speaking skills have gotten so much better of the course of the 4 years she and nico have been dating. it was relief knowing that she could keep up with his families conversations - even if she still wasn't the best speaker.
they had been so busy the first week that blake didn't notice her family suddenly going ghost for the 12ish hours it took to fly to switzerland. nor did she really notice the excited glances shared between nico's family as they wished them off on their hike.
∞♡
"nina's so sweet. she's been teaching me more german while you were hanging out with friends earlier and i really think i'm starting to understand better," blake explains as she trails behind an overly excited nico. "i just need to work on my speaking and pronunciation.. but each time i hear you guys talk i swear i'm getting it! i think by next summer if i keep practicing i'll be able to have full conversations,"
nico looks back at blake with nothing but pride. "i love you,"
she laughs, "i love you too?"
suddenly, they were both standing on top of a gorgeous mountain with the sun shining on both of them. as expected, blake steps forward to admire the view. "after all these years coming up here, i don't think i'll ever get used to it," she enthuses, and nico hums from behind her as he gets down on one knee.
"aw, nico look there's a dog all the way down there-" blake turns around and gasps. even though she was expecting another proposal with a ring this time, she's still surprised.
"blake, last time i wasn't as prepared as i shouldve been," nico chuckles nervously and blake giggles. "these last few years have been a dream and i can't imagine not waking up next to you or not wanting to spend all of my time with you. youre my best friend and i love you so much. will you officially agree to marry me?" nico asks, holding out the ring box and opening it slowly.
"of course i'll marry you," blakes voice is muffled as she drops her hands away from her mouth. "i love you so much," she cries, holding onto nico tightly when he finally stands up.
when they pull apart, he slides the beautiful gold diamond ring onto her finger.
∞♡
"congrats you guys!" jack shouts as soon as the front door of hischier house opens.
"youre here?" blake cries out, palms digging into her eyes as happiness floods through her.
"sweetie congradulations," ellen speaks softly into blake ear as she brings her daughter forward into a bone-crushing hug. "show me the ring," she asks happily, and blake gladly obliges.
"i can't believe you guys are all here," blake sniffles, looking up to see her brothers - trevor included - and her immediate family.
"i'd never miss your engagement goldie," trevor jokes as he slings an arm around blakes shoulders. "you did good," blake glances over at her fiancee who was talking animatedly with his friends and family - recounting the proposal to the fine details.
"i know," blake smiles sappily and turns to her oldest brother.
"i'm proud of you, goose" quinn teases but blake can see the tears lining his eyes. "you're so grown up now," he breathes out, pulling his sister into a hug that jack and luke aren't shy of joining.
over her brothers shoulders she spots her dad next to nico's and she excitedly flashes them her ring.
∞♡
blake.hughes
📍 valais, switzerland
liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, and 57 012 others
blake.hughes future mrs 🤍
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nicohischier my beautiful bride 💍 i love you ❤️
ninahischier love you two so much !!! congratulations💘
jackhughes brother in law secured
_quinnhughes congrats you guys!❤️
trevorzegras can't believe youre actually engaged (i was literally there) 😭😭😭
bestie i'm. sobbing. so. hard.
user09 did he propose while hiking?? omgg too cute😭
user63 OMFG?? OMFG??? OMFG???
user14 they're engaged😭😭😭
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#blake hughes au#nico hischier x oc#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier blurb#nico hischier fic
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caught in his web ; choi yeonjun ch. 1 | SWEET DREAMS
pairings — yeonjun x afab reader
genre — smut (lots of it so minors dni please), fluff, angst, college!au, friends to lovers, drama
word count (for this chapter) — ~2.3k
summary — You thought you’d be immune to Choi Yeonjun's charms, turns out you were completely, utterly, shamefully wrong.
And what’s worse? He’s your new best friend's boyfriend.
Wanna hear something even worse than that? His dad and your mom are dating.
MOA University: An educational institution created for the 1%. The elite of the elites. Those who are to inherit large multinational companies, take oath in office, and represent Korea's future in business and politics. This is where it begins.
warnings — almost-stepbro!yeonjun but not really since your parents are in the early stages of dating, kinda slow burn yes, black haired!yeonjun, bad boy yeonjun, all of you are trust fund babies, all the tubatu's make a cameo and are in the same friend group, might reference some other 4th gen idols, alcohol, drinking, drunken mishaps, lots of sex, profanity - lots of it, yeonjun is a menace but he's so cute wtf i'm screaming, jealousy, making out etc. minors dni istg! i'm watching y'all..
A/N: hello! bela here! my apologies for dipping after posting the preview. here is the official first chapter! hope you guys like it. i'll try to update more frequently. 🙏 comments and reblogs are very much appreciated xoxo also please do let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the next parts!
MASTERLIST: [ preview ] | [ 1 ] | [ 2 ] | [ 3 ]
————- ★ -———— . ————- ★ -————
“O-oh..” You clear your throat after telling yourself to get it together about a million times. Opening your mouth after what seemed like an eternity, “I uh.. Uncle Minjun? It’s nice to meet you. I’m y/n.” You offer your hand out to the man who was undeniably a splitting image of Yeonjun - just older.
He was dashing and had an air of charisma around him. One would know that being in the real estate business, you need to have some type of charm after all, so you're not too surprised that he owns the biggest housing and commercial property business in Asia. He seemed like the type to be able to sway you easily into buying things without much hesitation.
Also explains why your mom fell for him.
“y/n.. Very nice to meet you finally. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you from your mother, you seem like a very smart lady. And as expected - beautiful too. Surely you have a lot of suitors by now, eh?” He says in a playful manner, as you finally take a seat to join them, right across from Yeonjun.
“Oh, trust me, dad. Soobinnie's all over her.” The male across from you nonchalantly points out, making you cough right as you scoop the clear soup into your mouth.
“Oh? CEO Dongwon's son? Well sounds like he’s a decent man.” Your mother for sure wouldn't pass off the chance to give her two cents, “Why didn’t you tell me this, sweetie? You should invite Soobin here sometime.” She lets out a giddy laugh as you grimace into your soup.
"Well, we’re not an item, Mom. And you know I want to focus on my studies first…”
“It’s rare you hear that nowadays eh? I wish my son would see education the same way as you y/n. Maybe you should teach him a thing or two, huh?” Minjun replies, sipping from his scotch glass and giving Yeonjun a look to which the younger male replies with a sarcastic scowl.
“I’m sure Chaewon’s got that covered.” You take the opportunity to tease back, it was your way of repaying him for bringing Soobin up. “They’re a really cute couple.” You smile the sweetest one you can muster and look over at his dad who seems to suddenly be interested at the mere mention of a girl.
“Well, if you’re serious about dating her, son, stop bringing random girls home. You know the guards see you when you do that, right? It's quite distasteful really.”
Your eyes widen upon learning this little piece of information, he was still bringing girls home, even though he’s dating my friend? You think to yourself. You could feel Yeonjun’s glare directed at you from across the table, but ultimately decide to avoid it and just eat.
“I-I’ll go get the dessert.” You shoot up from your seat not too long after, wanting to do anything to get you out of that semi-awkward situation.
“I’ll help you y/n!” Yeonjun chimes in, walking behind you and following you into the kitchen- giving you no other choice.
“Ahjumma, can you please take out the cream cake my mom bought this morning? I’ll cut it myself.” You say in a polite tone and a smile to match, watching the older lady walk out back to the refrigerators to go grab it.
You let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back against the expensive Italian marble countertop. “Not even an hour with you and I’m already tired.” You glare at the male.
It’s true, there’s a reason why you never got along with him, as he was always picking on you. But it was more of a welcomed gesture for you because even though it was annoying, you were just glad you are not a part of the population of MOA-U girls who have fallen victim and succumbed to his charms.
“Well, you do know what this means… right y/n?” Yeonjun asks, almost in a teasing tone from what you can pick up.
Soon, his hands lay flat over the countertop, on each side of your hip - effectively trapping you in.
You swallow hard, you’ve never been this close to him before.
Chaewon always had somewhat of a fence around him in school, which is why we’ve never been face-to-face like this. You find yourself taking note of his prominent features- from his black locks, which complimented his hazel eyes, his strong jawline, his raised nose bridge, and even that cute, boyish smile.
“H-huh?” Great, what was that part about being immune to his charms again?
“We’re going to be siblings," He says, arms wrapping around your waist, "..so you’ll see more of me around, most likely.” His smile stretches out even more, and it was like he enjoyed that you were flustered by the mischievous glint in his eyes.
Like a shark being able to smell fear from a few feet away.
"You're... You weirdo." Was all you were able to say, and it took all of your might to push him off of you, and right on time too, as the help finally came back with the cake to save the day.
You leave the kitchen as fast as you could, and even as you briskly walked away, you could feel Yeonjun smirking behind you.
————- ★ -———— . ————- ★ -————
"I don't know how I feel about it, honestly." You say as you plop down on one of the couches in Chaewon's living room after school that day.
"My best friend and my boyfriend becoming step-siblings? Who would have thought..." Chaewon says with a smile, though you couldn't tell if it was a sarcastic smile or one that was of genuine nature.
"I know my mom's been a notorious magnet for rich dudes but I never thought she would end up in the arms of Choi Minjun, tsk. This is driving me nuts." You whine out, pulling at your hair and punching the throw pillow repeatedly.
"You do know there's some business strategy side to this, right unnie?" Minjeong suddenly speaks up. The youngest in your group rarely opened her mouth, which is why all four of you were all ears whenever she decides to give her input on things.
"How so?" You ask, trying to make sense of the situation and guessing where she was going with this statement.
"Mm well... Yeonjun oppa's dad owns a lot of properties, and you guys own a lot of department stores.. So if your companies merge... Then, your mom can expand to more places and oppa's dad will acquire more patrons because of the brand - since your mom does have an insane amount of fans. It will be the merger that everyone in Korea will be talking about."
"Wow.. I never really thought of it that way." You say in a hushed tone, trying to put the pieces together.
"At this rate you'll be richer than all three of us combined. With the exception of Chaewon, of course." Yeji says in a joking manner, her statement causing Chaewon to flip her hair over her shoulder.
You laugh it off, "Ah, well- that's.. that's really not my concern now. All I know is that my mother needs to get her life together.."
"Well look at the bright side y/n, at least you get to look after my baby for me," Chaewon interjects, putting her hand over her chest. "You know, you can report to me and tell me if there are girls who try to flirt with him and all that. You’re basically going to be his younger sister anyways." She points out, nodding her head a few times.
You stay silent, suddenly remembering that one little fact that his dad gave away at dinner.
He was still bringing random girls home at this point.
There was an inner battle in you suddenly - should I say something? Or should I keep it under wraps since their relationship isn’t my business anyway? Something prompts you to go for the latter, not open your mouth and just nod.
You'd rather not be caught in the middle of the drama.
————- ★ -———— . ————- ★ -————
As expected, there was another party that night at Chaewon’s house.
There were indeed perks to being inheritors to future companies: your parents were more often than not, too busy to take note of anyone's whereabouts. Which is why you have the luxury to party whenever you wanted.
Surprisingly, you were actually in the mood to party then. As you’ve managed to down a few shots of soju as well as soju bombs with Yeji.
And not surprisingly, Chaewon was all over Yeonjun that night.
You could feel him staring at you from time to time though. Nevertheless, you don't think much of it- as you’ve always made it a point not to.
He's probably waiting for me to f*ck up or something so he can tattletale on me to my mom next time we have a ‘family’ meal.
“How’s my favorite girl?” Soobin’s voice made its presence known as he wraps his arm around your neck and pulls you into a hug. Your arms instinctively wrap around his torso, and you stay that way for a few minutes.
“Ah- y/n! Before I forget! Remember how you were looking for that limited edition version of that manga we both loved?!” He asks as you pull away from the hug. You, of course, nod quickly.
The two of you have a lot of similarities, and your love for mangas and graphic novels was one of them.
In a swift motion, he then pulls out something from his bag. And lo and behold, in its pristine condition, was the same novel you've been searching high and low for.
“WHAT! NO WAY!!!” You shout over the music, enough to draw attention from the people around you. You envelop him in another excited hug out of gratitude. “I can’t believe you found it?! How did you do it? I had my mom’s assistant look all over for it. Even my grandparents’ staff were searching for it.”
“Ah well, I have my connections. You’re not the only one, y/n.” Soobin winks as soon as you pull away to take the manga and read through the back cover.
The rest of the night was spent with Soobin and a few more soju bottles. And by the end of the night, you were feeling the ugly effects of alcohol.
Cuddled up with him on one side of the couch, with the two of you talking about all the animes you’ve watched the past week. It was pretty fun to have someone with whom you could nerd out, especially in a group of socialites such as the one you both have.
“Ah, you’re remarkable. I can’t believe you like the same things I do.” He said, pinching your nose which causes you to scrunch it upwards.
“y/n...?” He suddenly grows quiet after a few moments of just staring at each other.
“H-huh?” You ask, your forehead creasing in curiosity. Unfortunately, right on time, your vision starts to blur, and the dimmed-out lights in the living room turned party area wasn’t helping. “W-what is it?”
“C-can I k-kiss-- Y-yah.. y/n?! Hey! You ok?!”
That was pretty much the last thing you hear before passing out.
And that was it, your dear old friend alcohol got the better of you, knocking you out on his lap.
————- ★ -———— . ————- ★ -————
“Yeonjun, I don’t understand, you know I can bring her home safely.”
Was I dreaming?
“I know, but I promised her mom I’d take care of her, and that’s what I’ll do so hand her over.” His voice didn’t falter, standing firm to the promise he made to your mom.
W-wait.. I can’t see anything.. I can’t open my eyes. I’m still dizzy, I can only hear faintly.. Ah, what is happening to me?!..
“Pff, alright, fine Jjunie.. But you better not try any funny business.”
You could feel another pair of strong arms underneath you, cradling you as you shifted. The air is crisp and cold as it brushes through your legs. You were outside.
“Babe! Where are you going?! You can let Soobin handle her and the party’s not over yet.”
That was Chaewon’s voice..
“I have to go Chae, I’ll bring her home first and make sure she’s settled. I’ll see you tomorrow in school hmm?”
————- ★ -———— . ————- ★ -————
You wake up to music, a hummed lullaby of sorts. It was soothing and pleasant to hear. You can feel the soft mattress under your tired body. With how familiar it all felt, you could tell you were in your bed.
Apart from that, you can feel someone stroking your hair.
Your eyelids felt so heavy as you open them, curious to see who it was. But you could barely see, vision still blurry no thanks to the after-effects of alcohol.
Add that, and the fact that it was rather pitch dark around your room- signaling that all the lights were off.
Someone was in your room, that you knew. Because you can hear him and his melodic humming, and whoever it was- he was unmistakably sitting at the edge of your bed next to you.
“O-ow..” You croak out, feeling the throbbing in your head. Pressing the palm of your hand against your forehead almost immediately, the melodic, soft voice cuts as you note the mattress' weight shift when the person beside you leans in to check on you.
“y/n, don't get up, just get some rest…” That voice, you know who it belongs to, but it took you a while to process it.
Yeonjun’s voice?
Even though you wanted so badly to keep your eyes open and verify if your guess was correct, you've had way too much to drink to keep up.
You couldn’t believe it though. How can someone so rugged and nonchalant about things have such a sweet voice? Plus, the mere idea that he’s here to make sure you're okay- that definitely does not seem like something he’d do.
Or have you had a skewed vision of him this whole time?
Soon after, You feel his lips against your forehead. His soft buds leave a small peck and a tingling sensation on your skin, and you swore your cheeks felt a lot more heated than it was before.
At that point, you weren't sure if it was all a dream. You feel your stomach churn. Was it butterflies? Nah, it must be the soju. You tell yourself.
“Sweet dreams, y/n.” And with that, you drift off into dreamland.
#𓆩*𓆪 : series ; cihw#𓆩*𓆪: yeonjun#tomorrow x together#yeonjun#yeonjun smut#yeonjun imagines#choi yeonjun#yeonjun x reader#kpop smut#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#yeonjun hard hours#txt hard thoughts#kpop x y/n#kpop x female reader#kpop#kpop boys#kpop bg#fanfic#fanfiction
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Bleeding Heart Dove (Part 3)
-> Nanami Kento x Reader
Summary: After acquiring two tickets for a play by the docks, you and Nanami get ready with anticipation.
Tags: angst, slow burn, marriage au, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, unresolved tension (they need to fuck nasty), smoking (discussion of quitting)
Word Count: 2.5k words
Read on AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2
Light seeps through the thin curtains of your hotel room window, stirring you awake. It’s a weak light, but it’s insistent, and you turn away. But the curtains are wide open—no doubt a result of Nanami being out on the balcony.
He was always an early riser, which prompted you to do better in that regard.
Your hand brushed against the cold sheets beside you as you shifted in bed. Slowly, you got up and headed to the bathroom, knowing that bathing right now would be your only chance today. The day was busy. Markets, museums, restaurants—exciting, but a little daunting.
Emerging from the steamy bathroom, the cold air pricked at your damp skin. Pulling your bathrobe tighter around you, you grabbed your lying pack of cigarettes and an obscenely bright yellow lighter, making your way out to the balcony.
You leaned your forearms on the railing, and as you turned, there he was— just as you expected. Nanami was sat on the jute chair, reading glasses perched on his nose, eyes fixed on his lap.
He had been there for a while, wrestling with a pesky crossword puzzle.
He looked up as you joined him, his eyes catching the wetness of your hair and the flimsy towel loosely perched atop your head. You slipped a cigarette between your dry lips and flicked the lighter.
The first drag was deep, the smoke accompanying the two of you this morning.
“Filthy habit,” he tutted, his voice a gentle chiding.
You turned, a soft smirk playing on your lips as you exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Good morning to you too,” you murmured.
“Morning,” he says. “There’s some orange juice,” he points to the table with half a jar of orange.
“Yes, yes—Gimme!” you said, sitting down and pouring some into the empty glass beside it. Freshly squeezed orange juice after a smoke. Perhaps life wasn’t half as bad as you made it out to be.
Nanami watched you again, the cigarette between your lips, the smoke swirling around you as you took another drag.
“I wish you’d quit,” he said aloud. He’s disapproved of your smoking for a while. – a filthy habit you picked up two years ago when you got prompted and the workload tickled into your stress. He had tutted and thrown away countless packs, yet never before had he asked you to quit outright.
“You want me to quit?” you asked.
He nodded. He knew you wouldn’t see it, but this was the first time he had directly asked you to stop. He wasn’t sure what effect it would hold.
“I guess I can,” you said, taking another puff. “I’ll quit.”
“You’re serious?”
“I mean, if it bothers you— plus, it is the healthy thing to do, no?” You chuckled.
“You’re quitting because I asked?”
You turn around, smiling reassuringly. “Yeah, Kento.”
He wonders if you would’ve quit earlier if he just asked. He wonders if it’s the same way with other things. I wish you’d take some day off, you deserve it. I wish you’d be there beside me when I go to bed. I wish you’d fire that arrogant assistant of yours, he stares at you at you in ways I don’t like.
“Thank you,” he says simply.
You turned to him. “Can’t promise you this will be my last cigarette. But here goes—last puff for a while.” You took one final drag, the smoke filling your lungs before you stubbed the cigarette out. “Oh,” you said suddenly. “Hold on—”
You disappeared inside, returning moments later with something in your hand. “Here,” you said, dropping two slender, golden-striped papers into his lap.
He glanced down at the papers lying still on his open crossword book. He picked them up, holding them aloft and adjusting his glasses for a better view. “What are they?”
“Tickets.”
“What for?”
You take one from his hand, turning it to reveal bold, black lettering. “For a play. It’s tomorrow evening.”
His eyebrows lift in surprise. “Oh,” is all he murmurs.
Upon that, you elaborate. “It’s in the auditorium by the dock”
The Rose Auditorium was known for its top-notch productions—musicals, plays, and even orchestra and choir performances. The venue’s proximity to the beach made it a costly affair.
He wonders how much you spent on these, but most importantly, he wonders more about why he hadn’t thought to arrange this himself.
Observing his muted reaction and ensuing silence, you grow a bit uncertain on your feet. Shifting your weight, you speak up. “I should have asked though. We didn’t have anything planned for the evening, so I thought—”
“Yes,” he says at once, a warm, appreciative smile twitching on his lips. “I’d love to go with you. I was just thinking I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.”
At that, you laugh aloud. “Now, I know that’s a lie. You practically live in suits. We’ll find something fitting.”
He simply smiles back at you. He knows, he simply didn’t want his own wife to feel like she needed to ask permission to book something for the two of them. That would be absurd. That would be rock bottom.
Your eyes flit down to his lap where the tickets flicker against the book, and you notice the familiar crossword book. “Having trouble?” you ask.
“Huh—” He follows your eyeline, back down to his lap. “Yeah,” he says, as he watches you walk closer, moving his arm so you can plop yourself down on the arm of his chair. “7 letters.”
You lean closer, “What’s the clue?” you ask as you peer down at the crossword book nestled in his lap.
He moves the tickets, holding them in his right hand as he wonders what he should do with his left. Usually, it would rest on your waist, your thighs, or in your hand, but now it feels awkward. You no longer plop yourself freely into his lap, and he can’t help but leave his hand cold against his thigh.
"Something about a bird," he murmurs. "A tropical bird with colorful feathers. The middle letter is ‘c’”
You think for a moment, then grin, as you bend down to pick up the pencil, and you write down the word.
"Macaw?" he asks.
You hum, “It fits.”
He’s immensely better than you at this, but you always had a talent for picking it up when he can’t. Just one of those things.
“Guess it does,” he says with a smile.
—
Nanami sits on the edge of the bed, adjusting his cufflinks with his practiced steady hand, his feet tapping away profusely against the carpeted floor.
As soon as he hears the door unlock, he’s lifting his chin and drinking up the image of you stepping into the room. You’re wearing a dark olive dress, with a black lace bodice cover. The material looks satin, silk-like, and it flares out from your hips, where it’s girded by a dark black satin belt, cinching the dress where his hands have so often rested. He hasn’t seen this one before. It must be new.
“Help me with the necklace?” you ask, as you bring your hand up to show him a thin chain with a drop pendant.
He simply takes it from you, and the two of you move back into the bathroom.
His eyes flit down to the marble countertop, a myriad of makeup products and jewelry spread out. He should help you clean up before you two leave, he notes silently.
Standing in front of the mirror, you move your hair to the side, exposing your neck and back to him.
He steps closer, his hand brushing against your back. You draw in a breath.
"Cold," you murmur.
He hums in acknowledgment. His hand reaches in front to draw the necklace around, pulling it up until it rests neatly against your chest. Pretty, he thinks as he bends down, the lack of glasses making it harder for him to find the clasp, but after a few moments, he succeeds.
He looks up, meeting your gaze in the mirror. You’re watching him intently, curiously. He sees your lips, plump and lathered up in some shade of pink.
He straightens up, before bending down— his eyes still locked with yours as he presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your back.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs.
“Thank you,” you swallow, your shoulders rolling back. You break eye contact, turning to reach for a black clutch as you speak up. “We should leave soon.”
—
Nanami’s starting to wonder if he’s the biggest idiot in the world. Why couldn’t he think of this first? You loved this — the theatre, the whole ceremony of greeting and entering. Why didn’t he think of bringing you here? He had even seen a poster on one of your walks in the city yesterday.
This place—it's overwhelming in its opulence. Nanami was quite familiar with how metallic luxury tasted, a remnant from his early twenties, but even he could not help but feel somewhat dwarfed by the grandeur and extravagance of the architecture surrounding him.
He turns towards you, his smile somewhat wistful. He can tell you seem just as impressed as he is, even if your reaction is restrained and taut — a simple pursing of your lips indicates enough to him.
He sees beyond you, noticing how the ceilings are adorned with glass chandeliers that seem to drip gold, a place fitting for a woman of your stature, he can admit as much.
You smile back at him, as your hands come to encircle his bicep as you two move.
You produce two tickets from your clutch and offer them to one of the many attendants. Nanami watches as a smile brightens the attendant's face.
“Thank you,” he says. “Please turn right at the door and meet the usher at the elevator. From there, someone will escort you to your seats.” He hands you a program sheet and points to the right as the two of you make your way in.
Nanami murmurs a “Thank you” to the man and then you feel his hand on the small of your back, warm, guiding you towards the red ropes.
“Not too bad,” you say as you make yourself comfortable, smoothing down your dress in the seat next to him. Well, technically, it’s one seat. One long red seat for two, so there are no barriers between the two of you, apart from the ones you’ve built by placing your clutch and program sheet.
“How do you feel?” you ask.
“Yes.” His elbow brushes your forearm, as you turn to find that he’s already looking at you, wearing a fond expression. One you haven’t seen in ages. “I should have thought of this.”
Ah, you think. That’s what this is about. “Next time,” is all you say, with a warm reassuring smile, knowing that this is his battle.
“So, you never even told me what this play was about,” he says.
You perk up. “Oh, right. It’s about romance, marriage, heartbreak, war… you know the gist.”
He nods, not particularly interested in hearing more, and you know as much because you don’t seek to elaborate. He always believed it best to go into these things blind. The most effective experience.
The seats below and around you continue to flood with people as it nears seven, and by the time it’s fifteen the show begins, as was announced by a man in a silly tophat on stage. It was brimming full of people.
“I guess it’s about to—” He says, as he turns to find that your face glistening with red. “You’re bleeding,” he says, as he immediately gets up.
“Nanami, it’s about to start,” you protested softly.
“You’re bleeding,” he repeats, sternly this time. His hand grabs yours as the two of you dash out. You manage to trail behind him, grasping onto your clutch, as you tilt your head back, relying on his touch to guide you.
You hear him converse with who you assume is one of the attendees, asking for a bathroom.
You see the pristine white floor, and you’re so nervous — you don’t want to stain it red.
He points to the marble countertop. "Up," he commands, pointing to the marble countertop. You hop onto it, spreading your knees to make room for him as he situates himself between them.
Gently, he dabs at your nose with a tissue, getting rid of the excess blood dripping down to your nose.
“You haven’t had nosebleeds in a while,” he notes with quiet concern. “Are you feeling okay?”
You nod slightly, trying to smile despite the inconvenience, trying to steady yourself. "I’m fine. I think it's just the dry air."
You feel a bit embarrassed by it all. You’re grateful you didn’t see any of the onlookers’ faces.
“Here, let’s get this under control,” he says, handing you thinly molded tissues.
You carefully insert them into your nose, hoping to stop the bleeding.
"I'll get you some water," he says, and you nod, as you’re left to stew on the countertop, feeling somewhat foolish with tissues up your nose. Not at all how you expected the night to go.
He returns with a bottle of water, and you uncap it to take a sip. Even the water here tastes luxurious.
You take a breath in, removing the tissues wadded up your nostrils. “I ruined the night,” you say, with a frown.
"It's barely started. We can still go back in," he assures you.
"I don't want to," you sigh. Tired. "I just—"
He hums, squeezing your thigh gently in reassurance, urging you to continue.
"I want to go back."
"Are you sure?" he asks.
You nod, blinking in reassurance. “Unless you want to watch the play.”
"No," he says softly. "Let's go back.”
—
It is not often you walk away from commitments. Not work, not hangouts, not meetings, not runs. And especially not paid events.
You must be very tired, he thinks.
“Chicken and rice?” you asked, as the two of you made your way back.
Nanami’s blazer is draped over your shoulders. The night isn’t too cold, and you watch his white shirt flutter against the muscles underneath. You feel loopy.
“Chicken and rice,” he affirmed, his tone steady.
“Some dessert?”
“Tiramisu?”
“Eh,” you reply, disinterested, the idea of sweetness somehow too much, too indulgent.
“I want some,” he says, a bit insistent, like a child.
You smile. “Then we should get you some.”
Back in your hotel room, your heels and stockings are discarded onto the floor as the two of have finished eating.
“That was good,” you say, you’re seated on the couch, your hand resting on your full stomach as you stare back up at the ceiling.
He hummed beside you, his glasses abandoned as he stared at you. He lifted a hand to run by the bridge of his nose. “You look beautiful,” he says.
“You’ve said that today,” you say, turning back to look at him.
He hums, again.
At that, you turn back to the ceiling, not particularly certain what you can do with that response.
“We should do this again,” you say, still affixed on the bland off-white ceiling. You felt heavy and light all at once.
“A date?” he asks.
You turn back to him now, smiling. “Oh, was this a date?”
“I would assume so,” he says, matter of factly.
"I guess so," you said airly as you got up, turning back as you said. “Just attend things together. I miss it.”
Nanami smiles with a nod as he watches you walk into the bathroom. He misses you too.
#jjk drabbles#nanami fluff#nanami x reader#nanami x you#jjk x reader#jjk angst#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento x reader fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff#nanami kento x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader angst
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MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 16)
au masterlist
notes: i’ve been extremely busy and had no time to take screenshots, so all photos (except one) are from the actual photographers!
y/ndevils00
liked by john.marino97, dawson1417, and 329,615 others
y/ndevils00 we are not beating the loser allegations
we lost 3-6 tonight against the airplanes and their brick wall!
i assume everyone was reacting the same way as babygirl, slut, and i… cussing at the tv
BUT BET YOU CAN GUESS WHO SCORED TONIGHT BASED OFF THESE PHOTOS!
THAT’S RIGHT! BOTH OF MY PRETTY BEST FRIENDS SCORED GOALS TONIGHT!!
MARASCHINO CHERRY WITH HIS FIRST OF THE SEASON AND DAWG-SON WITH HIS THIRD!! I’M SO PROUD OF MY BESTIES!!!
LOOK AT THAT PHOTO OF MY MARINARA SAUCE AND MY LUKEY POOKIE, HUGGING AND SHIT!! SO CUTE!!! (they miss me so bad) ((they were comforting each other))
anyways, good luck in pittsburgh on thursday! try not to lose this time!
p.s. that third photo is the outcome of my secret agent photo taker yelling “y/n says hi!” ! doesn’t Johnny look so happy to hear he can never escape me?!
p.p.s. nothing to do with this game, but congratulations to Sid the Kid on his 13th career hat trick! … i thought he had more tbh
tagged tmeier96, john.marino97, lhughes_06, dawson1417
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user25 did you just… go out of your way to subtly dig at Sidney Crosby? 😭
john.marino97 i thought i left you in Jersey and then i hear your name and look up to see you on facetime with a random person!
y/ndevils00 you love that you can never get rid of me 🥰 you’re stuck with me forever!
john.marino97 four years and counting… do i ever get a break?
y/ndevils00 nope!
user73 four years? but, John only joined the Devils last season?
tmeier96 i scored a goal too, you know?
y/ndevils00 yeah… you’re pictured aren’t you?
tmeier96 barely! and no congrats for me!
y/ndevils00 fine, attention whore! congratulations on your goal in a game in which we still did not win
tmeier96 i’m ignoring your sass and saying thank you anyways
y/ndevils00 asshole
tmeier96 bitch
jackhughes hey, that’s my girlfriend, Meier!
y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes it’s okay baby, i can fight my own battles
y/ndevils00 HEY! I’M JACK’S GIRLFRIEND, MEIER!
jackhughes ah yes, you did so well, lovely Dove. so proud of you
user02 goddamn John looks FINE AS HELL
user81 fr! y/n has a hot ass boyfriend and some hot ass friends!
dawson1417 THANK YOU BESTIE NUMBER 3!!! I MISS YOU SO MUCH!!!
y/ndevils00 I’LL SEE YOU SO SOON, BFFL
lhughes_06 yes, we’re absolutely mentally falling apart without you. idk how we’re still alive
y/ndevils00 i was wondering the same thing tbh. who else is gonna tell you not to eat an expired protein bar?
lhughes_06 i would’ve been fine
y/ndevils00 you would’ve gotten your stomach pumped and missed the game
lhughes_06 i don’t believe you
y/ndevils00 how did you survive this long without me?
_quinnhughes our mom
lhughes_06 @/_quinnhughes shut up, huggy
nicohischier i think you cursed more than we did
y/ndevils00 can you blame me?! these fuckers suck!
nicohischier i- you can’t say that
y/ndevils00 sure, i can! i just did!
ehaula WE suck?! YOU suck!
y/ndevils00 @/ehaula yeah, and Jack loves it!
ehaula UNCLES DON’T NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS
nicohischier NOBODY NEEDS TO KNOW THESE THINGS
y/ndevils00 @/ehaula prudes
jackhughes Dove, what have we talked about?!
y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes that i have to stop talking about our sex life on my instagram 🙁
jackhughes mhm and what did you just do?
y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes talked about our sex life on my instagram 😔
jackhughes so what do you have to say to Haulzy and Cap?
y/ndevils00 @/ehaula i’m sorry for making you privy to Jack and i’s bedroom shenanigans 🫤
#media management au!#media management series <3#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes fic#jack hughes blurb#nj devils#nhl fic#nhl imagine#faithlynn’s insta edits <3#faithlynn’s writings <3
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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ First Born❜ (Halloween Special)┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌
Premise: Being an older brother once more was beyond exhilarating for Choso, he never expected though to find love by his little brother's side, his pretty and kind childhood friend bringing a softness into his life he didn't know it was possible one Halloween night.
Word Count: 3243
Note: this is a Semi AU, meaning the characters are who they are in the series, yet the timeline doesn’t match the original story.
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Choso has been a big brother since he can remember, that’s his number one trait and the one he is more proud of in general.
Therefore, loosing his two younger brothers continues to sting to this day.
Gaining a ‘new brother’ or finding a ‘lost brother’ which ever you wanna call it, gave him a new sense of purpose, a new reason to live and continue growing as a person.
His number one flaw though, was how unemotional he was.
To Yuuji, Choso was embarrassing.
He never gets the jokes, more like he can’t even laugh on his own like if his face muscles were forever stiff, a spoon could get social cues better than him; he says the most embarrassing things at the worst timing too and this brings us to this moment.
Yuuji had been flirting with the girl that worked a part time at the donut shop close by for about a month. He would always stop by and buy even if it was just one donut to munch on his way to school just so he could see her smile for a couple of minutes; he even went as far as to ask for her number last time he was there; though today, Choso tagged along and was currently glaring at said beauty for getting ‘too close’ to his brother. “What is it that you want woman? I won’t let you get your smitten paws over my little brother, you hear me? You won’t ever understand how precious he is, must be protected at all cost.”
“Oh my god…just what do you think you’re doing?? Ruining my life?? Didn’t I tell you to stay outside with Fushiguro??”
“Itadori-kun, I think your brother is right, I don’t think I can handle such a precious boy….” the girl couldn’t hold her laugh any longer, same thing as her co-workers who witnessed the scene.
“That’s it. I’m never taking you out again. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get her to even look at me??” Yuuji was so disheartened, he opted to sit down on the sidewalk, contemplating the meaning of life while hating on his new older brother.
“I…I was just trying to-“
“I know, I know…just trying to be a good older brother…But have you stopped for a second and think that maybe not everyone wants to hurt me? I’m strong enough to defend myself, a pretty little thing like her wouldn’t even dream of hurting anything but my heart…” he sniffs dramatically, burying his face on his hands.
“You can die immediately if someone hurts your heart, idiot…”
This was the last drop of patience within him, “NOT literally, OK? I don’t mean my internal organ, I mean the feelings side of the heart!!”
“That’s not in your heart but your brain. You can also die if someone hurts you there-“
“Just stop talking!!!” Megumi and Nobara were both laughing their asses off at their banter, truth is Nobara saw the girl flirt with at least four different guys in just a week, she had been trying to warn her friend about her, so it was actually a good thing having dense Choso around to break the spell she had on him; that didn’t make it any less funny though.
“Itadori don’t be so hard on him, he’s pouting again.”
“I am not doing such thing-“
“Yes you are, man…” Megumi let out a deep sigh, walking on the opposite direction wanting nothing to do with the loud display of idiocy in front of him.
“Hey Fushiguro! Where are you going? We still need to discuss our plans for the party!” Yuuji yelled after him a little too loud, causing Megumi to flinch and return just to shut him up. “There’s nothing to discuss…Just be there around 9PM, you have to wear a costume or they won’t let you in, those are the rules.”
“Did you choose one already? I never pegged you for someone who’d like halloween parties~” giggling, Nobara elbowed Yuuji on the ribs wanting him to team up with her to tease their friend.
“I bet he’ll wear something ridiculous, like one of those giant carrot costumes.” bursting out laughing, both held each other from collapsing on the ground imagining carrotgumi.
“For your information, I will go as a vampire…I found dubious objects in a closet in Gojo-sensei’s, I mean back in the house…so I brought them with me for this party. Not like I want to go or anything but Maki-san threaten to shave my head in my sleep if I didn’t go…”
“Bald carrotgumi….” after one more outburst of intense laughter, the team bullying ended for the best. “I need a costume, would you go buy one with me, Kugisaki?”
All this time Choso has been quietly observing the entire thing. He knows his brother literally just said he wouldn’t take him out with him ever again, but he really wanted to prove him he could do better, that he wasn’t an embarrassment and that he was the best older brother there was to have, this was his chance. “Guys…do you think…do you think I can come with you…?”
“No, never, non, forget about it.”
“B-but…”
“Listen, you just ruined my life! How do you even think I would take you with me again?”
“Poor guy, just let him come, Itadori…he always brings the funniest of conversations out. I like him.” Choso perked up a little at the support he was getting, even if he knew all she wanted was to mock his brother, at least someone wanted him there.
“Oh c’mon….What if he ruins it again?”
“Just leave (Y/N) in baby sitting duty. She likes lost causes…” shrugging she started making her way to the costume shop, both of them tagging along.
“(Y/N)? I mean yes she does take recycling to an intense level and saves stray cats, but this is…this is something else, Kugisaki…” Choso’s lip was quivering once more, not wanting to face rejection for a third time on the same day by the person he wishes to please the most.
“Ok then how about we do this…” leaning close to Yuuji’s ear she whispers her plan with the most mischievous grin anyone has ever seen in their lives. To this Yuuji laughs for what feels like hours, having to stop in his tracks to wipe his tears away and calm down. “Ok, ok let’s ask him…” going over to his older brother, Yuuji bats his eyelashes prettily up at him, “Nii-chan…you can go…if you go dressed as the carrot Fushiguro isn’t wearing…”
Choso just nodded eagerly, not fully understanding what he was getting himself into.
“Also, I won’t let you follow me around, I wanna get a girl in my bed by tonight, and you can’t stop me. I’ll ask my best friend to look after you. Understood?” this definitely wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted bonding time with his brother, have a nice time, maybe drink one of those beers he introduced him to the other day, not having to stay behind away from the fun dressed as a commonly disliked vegetable…but it was the chance he was looking for to prove he could behave.
“Is that a yes? Or-?”
“Yes, I will go.” Nobara was on her phone browsing for carrot costumes, not long after running on her way to the shop.
This would be a long night..
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The night was young, every known sorcerer and their friends and family were invited to this party.
Yuuji chose to dress as werewolf, while Nobara went dressed as a sexy nurse.
Choso though…let’s just say the carrot outfit didn’t suit him that well…
Wanting to get rid of him as soon as possible, Yuuji stopped you right at the entrance with a big grin plastered on his face. “(Y/N) my darling! My bestie! The light that shines above us…!”
“What do you want now-“ he was being too obvious, he only acts this way when he wants either money or nasty favors.
“Have you met my brother yet?”
“Your what-? I’ve lived next door my entire life and I’ve never seen a brother of yours-“ covering your mouth almost instantly, he glared at you, trying to get you to play along.
“O-oh…yes your brother! You told me about him the other day. No, I haven’t had the pleasure to meet him yet!” smiling on his direction, you walked over to him, taking both of his hands in yours.
“Hi! I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to finally meet you! By the way, what an adorable outfit you brought today! I wish I knew about them before, then we could have been two carrots instead of just one!” giggling at how good you were handling his worst nightmare, Yuuji sneaks away without you noticing; thing is, not only did you not notice, but neither did Choso, and that had never happen before.
“They also had tomatoes and an eggplant, but that one was too little, it would probably fit you though.” He nodded in thought, unable to figure out why the thought of you dressed like a tiny eggplant sounded so appealing. Was this why his brother wanted him to be a carrot? Did he actually look cute?
“I would have loved to be an eggplant! We could take a bunch of pictures, probably even win the costume contest!” your soft laughter brought a smile to his face, he’s never been treated this nicely before.
“What are you supposed to be though?” he eyed you from head to toe, making you blush. “I’m Godzilla~” you posed, letting out a cute little roar, his heart skipped a beat, cuteness has never been his thing but he could see the appeal of it now.
“I apologize, I do not know what that is, but it’s certainly cuter than an eggplant. They don’t make sounds...” his comment made you giggle giddily, why did Yuuji dislike him this much? He’s such a sweetheart…
“Hmm Godzilla is…a monster…he destroys cities and kicks buildings.” you tried your best to imitate it properly, earning a smile from him once more, making you feel accomplished.
“So like a curse? I’m half curse-” he looked at you with his eyes wide opened in realization.
“Nah, more like a cute big animal lost in a city full of ants.” he nods at this, before pointing to a table by the door. “They had animal shaped cookies in a bowl over there.” he didn’t know why but he felt the need to make you smile some more, to make you feel comfortable in his presence unlike the rest of his brother’s friends and seemed like you liked animals enough to dress like one.
“Do they? I bet they’re adorable. Would you like to eat some with me?” the way your eyes twinkled at this little piece of information made his stomach feel hollow, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, he kind of wanted to feel more of this, so he went over the table and poked all the cookies from the bowl until he was sure he’s gotten at least one of every single animal available in it.
Megumi, who was sitting at the top of the stairs hiding from a drunk panda who was trying to get him to kiss his cousin, saw the entire scene unfold, and decided to intervene before Itadori ruined his moment if he caught him. “Choso…stop touching all the food just grab a handful she’ll like it anyways, trust me.” to his advice he nodded gratefully, making sure to grab some drinks as well.
“Here, I couldn’t find the elephant, I was sure I saw one when I went by that table earlier, apologies for not getting you the complete set. I got you some melon soda though, I hope you like it.” the back of his neck felt hot, he continued wondering why he wanted to please you this bad, is not like you were his little sister, not like he wanted you to be his sister- he wouldn’t be able to last a day before dying of cuteness overload.
“Don’t worry! I’m sure Mr.elephant found a nice home in someone else’s belly.” chuckling you grabbed a little bear cookie and pressed it to his lips, “Try it! It’s yumyum~” you danced happily at the taste, wanting to share the joy a good high quality cookie can bring to someone’s life.
To this he just gave out a short nod, getting the entire cookie into his mouth. This was all so new to him, was this why his brother kept insisting in taking a girl to his bed?
What would they even do there?
He would like to take you to his and eat elephant shaped cookies, maybe even talk a little, or watch a movie, he’s been really into them since his brother introduced him to horror films.
“Hey (Y/N) would you like to go to my room? It’s a bit far but we could walk there-“ before he could continue his sentence, a shoe came flying straight to his face, Megumi coming to pull him to the side, “I’m borrowing him for just a second (L/N), be right back.”
He took Choso outside, away from prying eyes, a deep scowl on his face, “What on earth are you doing? You spend too much time with Itadori, he’s rubbing on you…”
“I thought you’re supposed to take nice girls to your bed…”
“I..ugh..WhAT? Who told you that? Never mind don’t answer…” letting out a long sigh he plops down on a bench prompting Choso to the same. “Look, man…it is true I guess, though the order is wrong. Remember how your brother talked to the same girl for months just to get her to like him?” nodding his head he was taking mental notes, Megumi rarely took his time to teach him anything, this must not go to waste.
“When you think a girl is nice or cute, pretty even. When she’s nice to you as well and you feel like you want more of her…” his nodding intensified, it was as if he was reading his mind, describing just how he was feeling that same moment.
“You have to treat her right, make nice things for her, be patient, don’t do anything impulsive. Girls are more delicate, you can’t be rough with them. Got it?”
“I knew it. I should have looked for that elephant cookie some more…”
A rare smile appeared on Megumi’s face, Choso has been nothing but a pain to them when it doesn’t come to fighting, but he’s never seen this soft side of him, or maybe he had, just that Itadori always shuts him down unlike you.
“Yeah well, maybe next time you can buy her a bag, I’m sure the elephant will be there.” his eyes opened widely, he hadn’t thought about that, fantastic idea.
“You’re a great guy, Fushiguro, I appreciate your advise. I can be your older brother too, if you ever need one...” with a small smile on his face, Megumi walked away back to his room, he'd have enough of this party already.
“Go back to her, before someone steals her away~” running back inside, his heart came back to his body when he saw you patiently waiting for him inside, fidgeting with your fingers.
“I have returned. Fushiguro just told me we can find the elephant cookie if I get you a new pack of cookies. Would you like to go buy one with me?”
“Right now?” that smile of yours will end up causing him heart failure, he was sure of that now.
“Or later, when you have time, if you want that is…we can also go back for the eggplant dress, if you’re tired of being Godzilla.” It was pretty obvious to you by now that he was trying to get you out of this party, you weren’t what others would call a 'party animal’, you only went because your best friend called you over; the same best friend who’s been flirting with every single girl in the room and has not addressed you for the longest time.
“I think they sell them in the supermarket down the street, lets go~!” pulling him by his hand, you both walked in silence as none of you knew what to say.
“So, how is Yuuji as a younger brother? If he’s mean to you tell me, I will kick his ass…” you knew your bestie, he could be really sweet as much as he can be a real ass when he wants to be.
“He’s great. I wish we could get along better though…but it’s hard to know what he wants. I wished everyone would be happy with animal cookies…”
“I think it’s easy getting along with you though. You’re sweet and gentle, funny too.” Choso has never been complimented before, not like this at least…was this what his brother called ‘flirting’?
“I…well I think you are all those things too…nobody has ever treated me this nice before…” his comment managed to sadden you more than anything, stopping you on your tracks to place a hand on his cheek gently.
“Then how about we see each other some more? I need you to see how special you are.” your smile was so bright, so comforting…his chest ached but in a pleasant way, he kind of wanted to rip his own heart out just to see the chemical reaction occurring within his body in this very second, his blood even felt more powerful, he could kill Gojo Satoru right now, he was sure of it. But all he wanted was to count cookies with you while looking at the night sky.
“Can we? See each other again? I mean after the cookies...?”
“Of course! Lets do all sorts of things together! Have you ever been to a theme park? Maybe I can get the eggplant costume and we could both go dressed as vegetables, that’d be fun!” your arm wrapped around his as you walked towards the supermarket.
“I’ve never been to one, no.”
“Then we totally have to go! We could play some video games too! Oh and we definitely need to go to that new crepe place down town, I heard you need a reservation and all!”
“Why do you want to go with me to all those places?” he was honestly confused, he’s been facing so much rejection that this fuzzy feeling in his chest was starting to cause some concern.
“That’s what friends do, right? Besides, I think you’re really cute…maybe…we could…you know…one of those days we go out…only if you’d like of course…we could maybe say it’s a date?” you smiled nervously up at him, he’s never seen such beauty in his entire life, not even the drawing his little brother made for him when they were little was this pretty. “I would like that very much…”
Being the first born of four brothers had its benefits as much as it has its flaws, but tonight he was sure of one thing, he was glad of getting in his little brothers nerves enough to get him to dump him with the cutest girl his eyes had ever lay on.
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Masterlist
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu fanfic#jujutsu x reader#fluff#angst#slow burn#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk#choso x reader#jjk choso#choso#choso kamo#kamo choso#choso fluff#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso x you#choso x y/n#choso x female reader#my baby
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INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 2: Begin Again.
New Girl!AU — A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.
MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST
Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.
Summary: You found yourself unable to move one from the grieving of your break up, and your roommates try to cheer you up with a night out.
Tags/TW: tiny bit of angst, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of cheating, cursing, platonic relationships, alcohol consumption. if sth missing let me know!!
Author's Note: chapter 2 is hereee, thank u for the support in the first part! i didn't expect it to have such a good response!! this is dedicated to all of you, thank you for reading🤍
Word Count: 4.1k
Tag List: (bold means i couldn’t tag you) @borikenlove @aemondssiut @tillyt04 @doublesparrows @afro-hispwriter @chrisevansslutttt2 @fan-goddess @trshngyn @hiatuswhore @heavenly1927 @deltamoon666 @sahvlren @kravitzwhore @watercolorskyy @n4tforlife
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The boy in front of you would not stop staring. His deep blue eyes slightly widened as his cheeks were adorned with a soft and subtle pink color, making his face seem more childish. You, however, tried to avoid eye contact, watching the bowl with milk and cereal in front of you as you silently ate it.
There was no sound besides the one that was produced by the metal spoon hitting the corners of the bowl. Aegon hasn't returned from his night shift at the bar, Aemond had left for gym half an hour before, and Jace was taking too long to come out of the bathroom.
You would press your lips in a thin line, clearing your throat as you dared to look at the sixteen year old boy in front of you, who seemed to be too shy to even introduce himself to you. A kind smile was seen on your face, trying to not make you look as uncomfortable as you felt, but that gesture seemed to worsen the situation, for the boy let out a sigh.
You were used to these situations as a very young teacher, but still this felt weirder and odder. Perhaps because it was Jace's brother.
"Your name is Luke, right?" You asked, a bit louder than you expected.
Luke's eyes shined with your words as he nodded, "I mean, I'm Lucerys… but you can call me."
A smirk appeared on his face, which turned out to be a big contrast from his shy self of a few seconds ago. His words had left you waiting to hear more, and it took you a while to figure out the word play and the real flirtatious intention of him.
"Call you what?"
"You can call me." he repeated.
"Oh Gods," you muttered as you let the spoon fall into the bowl, slightly covering your face and sighing.
Luckily for you, the main door was opened and the sound of keys smacking against the floor. A few steps were the ones announcing the arrival of a very sleepy Aegon to the loft. The white haired guy had dark circles in his eyes and a big stain on his gray shirt of what appeared to be wine.
You felt relieved the moment he entered the room, because then you were no longer alone with a sixteen year old who was trying to make a move with you. A smile was drawn upon your face as you stood up and walked back to the kitchen where Aegon was; lurking inside the fridge to make some breakfast for himself.
"Morning!" You said cheerfully, arriving by his side.
Aegon only raised his eyebrow in response, slightly moving his head without even spare a glance to you.
"Did you have a long night at the bar?" You spoke again.
"Yes," he answered in a half-hearted tone.
"At least now you can rest, right?" You pointed out, "It's Saturday! You can sleep all day if you wish!"
Aegon let the butter knife fall on the plate as he starts to rub his temples, closing his eyes for a few seconds before he finally looked at you with tired eyes.
"Usually it's not that loud when I arrive here after my night shifts, so if you please… stay quiet," his grumpy voice reached your ears and the cheerful smile soon became a thin line.
"Yes, sure, I'm sorry," you said shyly, pursing your lips. There was silence for a moment, a few seconds passed where Aegon felt the same quietness that used to receive him every Saturday morning, but then he heard your voice again, "It's just that Jace's brother- I think he might have a crush on me."
Aegon chuckled. His lilac eyes looked at you, then looked at the boy playing Brawl Stars on his phone, and then back at you. You finally saw a smile on his face, and even though it was a mocking one, you still feel glad that he was not wearing that sour grin anymore. It was quite intimidating.
"He does that with every girl he meets in this apartment," he explained, rolling his eyes, "he's in an age where his only worry is how to look at a woman's cleavage without her realizing."
Unconsciously, you adjust your robe, grabbing the parts that were open enough to expose your chest. Aegon scoffed at this action before speaking again,
"Don't feel so special though," he told you as he put five slices of bacon on a buttered pan, "you're not the first one, and you're definitely won't be the last."
"Oh," you muttered.
Before you could say anything else, Jacaerys came out of his room with a radiant smile, wearing a casual outfit and a backpack hanging from his left shoulder. He took a banana from the bowl of fruit and peeled it before starting to eat it with big bites.
You could've sworn that Aegon laughed childishly at this, but Jace's voice did not let you know whether it was something you thought to hear or something that actually happened.
"Let's go, Luke," he said to his brother, who immediately stood up. "We're going to Hockey practice, we'll be back late," he informed.
"Bye, guys!" You waved your hand at them with a small smile.
They both returned the gesture as they walked towards the door, leaving the apartment. You turned to see Aegon once again, who was now spreading some mayo on the bread and then he placed all the bacon he priorly fried into the bread. He grabbed a large cup and filled it with coffee, five cubes of sugar fell into it and then, he went to sit on the couch.
At first, you doubted whether to follow him or not, but eventually you also found a spot next to him in the large couch that was in the middle of the living room, and started to watch the infomercials that were playing on the tv in front of you.
"When am I going to meet your girlfriends?" You suddenly asked. Aegon frowned as he slowly turned to see you with clear confusion in his face.
"What?" He asked in return, mouth filled with his bacon sandwich.
"It's just that if my boyfriend was living with a strange girl, I would like to meet her." You shrugged.
"None of us have a girlfriend," he scoffed, taking another bite, "Jace is a virgin, Aemond was dumped by his ex a year ago, and I…" he paused for a second, swallowing the food inside his mouth, "I don't do relationships."
"So none of you are dating?" You questioned, confused.
"Nope."
"Then, whose are those lotion bottles? And the special shampoos and conditioners, creams and moisturizers?"
"Those are Aemond's," he said uninterestedly, "he likes to take care of himself and spends a lot of money on all that crap." He rolls his eyes, "I don't even know why he needs it, for me soap is enough."
"You only use soap?" He nodded, "and what about your hair?"
"I use soap for that too."
Your eyes immediately went to his blonde platinum hair and took a close look at it. He had just confessed to you that he only washed it with soap and yet, he has the shiniest hair you have ever seen in a man —only being surpassed by his own brother. You pressed your lips, trying to play down the curiosity that had grown on you.
"Stop looking at my hair," he suddenly said, making you yelp as he caught you off guard.
"I'm sorry," you muttered shyly.
It's been a week since you had moved in, and Aegon was the one who had ignored you the most. Even Aemond had opened up with you after a long day of work, when everyone else was sleeping and you ended up bonding over the bad ending of your relationships. Turns out he was not as grumpy as he seemed, quite the opposite.
However, everytime you would try to have a decent conversation with Aegon, he would just answer in one syllable words and then he leaves. It was barely impossible for you to interact with him, so you just stopped trying.
But then something happened.
The familiar voice of Beetlejuice and Lydia echoed in the living room as you widened your eyes with surprise. Suddenly, a thousand feelings washed over you as that bloody movie reminded you to the person you wished you could erase from your memory; Jason fucking Lannister, mostly known as the douchebag who fucked a girl in your own couch… the one that you bought with your own money.
You had met Jason at University, having a couple of classes together while you studied Education and he studied Economics. It wasn't until some of your friends decided to make a small gathering that you actually spoke to him, and the bastard made you fall in love with him the minute he introduced himself to you.
That same night, after a few drinks, you had sex with him in the bathroom, and that's how your long relationship started.
Though everything ended two months ago, when you caught red handed while a girl was on her knees in front of him as he sat on your couch. Four years of relationship thrown to the trash, because he couldn't keep it in his pants.
And now you were there, sitting next to your roommate, your nose itching as you watched Jason's favorite movie; Beetlejuice. You bit your bottom lip as soon as you noticed it was trembling, and your hand quickly covered your mouth trying to hold back a sob. Aegon was able to hear you, and he slowly turned to your direction, frowning as he looked at you as if you had lost your mind.
"What the-"
His words were cut off with a cry that finally made its way out of your throat, and tears started to run down your flushed cheeks as you grabbed a cushion and buried your wet face in it. Aegon widened his eyes, having absolutely no idea what was going on with you. He was not going to lie to himself and pretend as if he was not worried about your sudden change of mood, but he did not know how to react, so he just froze as your cries became louder.
The wound was still quite open.
"Uhm…" he tried to come up with something, but he was way too uncomfortable with the situation that nothing would come to his mind, "There's- uh… what's- why are you crying?" He asked, but his tone sounded harsher than he expected, which actually made you feel worse.
The main door was open, and the shape of a sweaty Aemond wearing sweatpants and an Adidas hoodie appeared in Aegon's sight, making him sigh with relief as he realized that he was no longer alone with you and your uncomfortable feelings.
Aemond stood still as he dropped the keys into the small table beside the door, and after taking a quick look at you, his eyes fell on his brother with a stern and scolding look.
"What did you do?" He questioned, blamingly as he slowly walked towards you.
"Why do you think I did something to her?" He replied, offended. "We were watching Beetlejuice and suddenly he started crying!"
"Maybe she got scared," Aemond deduced.
Aegon frowned, "of Beetlejuice?"
"Daeron cried the first time he saw it."
"Yes, when he was six!" Aegon scoffed.
The younger one rolled his eyes while he sat next to you. His hand soon started to caress your back in an attempt to comfort you, and only then you decided to lift your head from the cushion and show yourself to the pair of brothers.
"May the Maiden have mercy on you," Aegon muttered as soon as he saw your face.
Your hair was sticking in your cheeks due to the tears, your eyes were swollen and red and your lips too. You started to have a runny nose too, which made you sniff. Aegon wrinkled his nose with slight disgust as he heard that noise.
"Jar," Aemond said to him.
"It's not that I'm scared of the movie," you started out of the sudden, your voice sounding whiny and unsteady as you try to clean your nose with the back of your hand, now it was Aemond the one who had a slight disgusted look on his face, "Beetlejuice was Jason's favorite movie."
"Who the fuck is Jason?" Aegon asked.
"Her ex, you idiot," Aemond replied.
"We used to watch it on our date nights," you continued, "and we would dance to Jump in the Line everytime we would clean the apartment."
"Oh, darling, it's okay to cry over the memories of the past," Aemond said.
His older brother chucked, "of that you know a lot, don't you?"
Aemond clenched his jaw.
"I hate this," you wept, "this whole thing happened two months ago, why am I still sad?"
"Because you haven't met the world of flings yet," Aegon shrugged, wiping his fingertips with a paper towel and then throwing it away, "you have to meet some new people if you want to move on," he shrugged, "you know what they say; coochie full, happy heart."
"Oh, Gods," Aemond said.
"That's- That's ten gold coins to the jar," you immediately said, "I can't believe you just said that."
"Well, it's the truth!" He claimed, "if you want to move on, then you need to get laid."
"And how am I supposed to do that? I barely get out of the apartment to go to my job," you complained, "I have no male friends besides you three."
"It's Saturday, go somewhere," he suggested.
"Where?"
"The Green Banner," Aemond added. You saw how Aegon's eyes widened as he quickly shook his head.
"Definitely not," he denied, "that's my place of work."
"It's a Saturday, the bar will be full of single men," Aemond said, and then he turned to you, "I hate myself for saying this, but Aegon is right; the best medicine for a broken heart is sex."
So you agreed.
A few hours later you were there, sitting in the bar with your sluttiets dress and high heels that were too uncomfortable to walk with. Aegon was standing in front of you as Aemond was looking around, drinking whisky as you sipped your mojito from a straw. You were nervous, trying to focus on the taste of the drink in your hand instead of looking for someone who called your attention.
The music was loud and the laughter of the people was even louder. Your head started to hurt from the stress of the situation and you wondered why you even came in the first place when you knew you were not ready yet.
"So," Aemond started leaning a bit closer to you so you could hear him, "what's your type?"
You shrugged, looking uninterested, "not blondes," you muttered bitterly.
"What about that guy over there?" He said pointing at a brown haired man with glasses.
"Are you kidding?" Aegon interrupted, "he looks like a fucking psycho."
"He's kinda right," you agreed.
Aemond sighed, continuing scanning the room trying to find the 'perfect match' for you. Aegon seemed uninterested too, almost as if he was being forced to help you. The bar was full, many people asking for a bartender to take their order, and yet Aegon did not leave the place in front of you and Aemond.
The long haired man pointed to a few other guys, all of them were rejected by either you or by Aegon. Until he finally chose one that seemed cute enough to at least try to have a conversation.
"Nah," Aegon had said, "he looks like a douche."
"Look who's talking," his brother quickly said.
"I think I'm gonna go for it," you said, excitedly and already a bit tipsy for the two mojitos you had drank.
"Are you?" Aemond said, impressed.
"Yes!" you yelled, as if you were trying to give yourself the strength to do it, "I'm going to fucking do this!"
"There you go!" Aemond cheered.
You gave him a high five before you drank all the remaining liquid left in your cup in just one sip to give yourself the courage you so desperately need in that moment.
Your feet moved quickly towards the handsome guy sitting by his own at the table, and before you could even speak to him he turned around and smiled at you; a handsome, devilish and flirtatious smile. You tried to avoid the rush that ran to your cheeks, palming your face with your cold hands as you smiled back at him.
"Hi," you said, being inevitably shy.
"Hi, gorgeous," he said, with a deep voice.
"Mind if I sit here?" You point at the chair next to his.
"Be my guest," he tilted his head.
"I'm y/n," you introduced yourself as you sat.
"Nice to meet you, sweetheart," he smiled, putting his arm around the chair you were in.
You waited for him to say his name for a few seconds, but the only response was his pearly whites, which were way too white to be real.
"Uhm, what's your name?" You asked, shyly.
He scoffed, "you can call me whatever you want."
"Oh," you simply said, "well, I- uh, I would like to know your name actually, because-"
"Names are a concept that define us as a person… and I am a man that doesn't like locking himself in those concepts."
"That's- that is…"
"Now tell me, sweetie… What brought you to my table?"
You falsely smiled at him, visibly uncomfortable and regretting your choice of going to his side. The only thing that made you stay there was your eagerness to move on and live your life the way you did before starting your relationship with Jason. So you went through it.
With each passing minute you would see him getting closer and closer to you. He would do all the talking as you simply nod and smile in a polite manner, trying to make yourself seem interested in him. You would try to move back sometimes but he would find his way close to you again.
There were times when you tried to search for Aegon and Aemond, but you couldn't find them around. And when Careless Whisper started to play in the background, you saw his demeanor change.
"Wait, you have something in your eye…" he said in a murmur that you were able to understand only because he whispered close to your ear.
"Do I?" You said, naively believing his words as you tried to stick your fingers in your eye.
"Yeah, just… let me do it for you," his voice sounded low and raspy as he grabbed your hand and put it in your lap.
He leaned closer to you, and you tried to breathe in. He was handsome, that was obvious, and yet there was something inside you that made you want to run away. The image of Jason appeared on your mind as soon as you felt his breath against your lips, and then you started to panic.
He closed his eyes, and you took this opportunity to start to slightly lean back. You started to breathe faster, your heart beating fast and hard inside your chest. And everything became worse when you saw his right hand going to your cheek to keep you still. That's when the disaster happened.
You barely knew how, but your fist ended up crashing against his nose and then all you were able to see was blood, at the same time that you gasped in surprise with yourself, and because the pinching pain in your hand was starting to affect you.
"Oh Gods!" you yelled.
His white t-shirt soon was stained with reddish marks that will not come out no matter how many times he washes it. He groaned in pain as his hands went to his nose, trying to relieve the ache that you, unconsciously, provoked.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He yelled at you.
"Oh, Gods! I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!!" You yelled back, panicking as you kept shaking your hand trying to relieve the pain.
"You fucking psycho bitch!" He said, blood dripping down his nose as he tried to cover it.
"Gods… Fuck, fuck," you muttered looking around for Aemond or Aegon.
Suddenly a couple of arms grabbed you and started to lead you out of the bar, meanwhile you were still screaming 'I'm sorrys' over and over again, for the guilt was starting to be too big to bear. You harmed an innocent man because he tried to kiss you, you panicked. You wanted to bury your head and disappear from the world.
Aemond led you outside the bar, where he told you to wait for him until he returned with his car to pick you up. You obeyed, sitting on the sidewalk as you were grabbing your aching hand, thinking about all your life decisions that had brought you to this… and you started to regret a few.
With your hand holding your head, you closed your eyes and sighed tired of the whole situation. And then you felt someone sitting beside you.
It was quite the surprise when you saw Aegon next to you, handing you a bag of ice for your hand. You gratefully accepted it, without even questioning his action.
"Aren't you supposed to be working?" You asked softly.
"I'm on my break," he explained.
"Why?"
"I was…" you noticed how he stopped himself before saying another word, and then he continued with dubious tone, "tired,"
"Oh."
"Where's Aemond?"
"He went to pick up the car. He parked it a few blocks away from here."
"Why?"
"He said this area is quite dangerous, he just changed the tires last week," you explained, and soon you both chuckled softly.
There was a silence that was not uncomfortable at all, and yet you felt the need to take this opportunity to finally have a conversation with Aegon and bond with him in some way. But another surprise came when he was the one who spoke first again.
"You're lucky the guy is not going to present charges," he laughed.
You felt the heat in your cheeks, "oh Gods, don't even mention that."
"I can't believe you punched him. You look so defenseless."
"I panicked," you said between giggles, "and he was being such a douche! He didn't even tell me his name. Maybe he's married or something."
"I was able to see that from miles, I warned you both but neither of you listened," he shrugged, looking at the cobblestones under his feet, "Douchebags know how to identify our own species."
"You're not a douchebag, Aegon," you slightly shook your head as you turned to look at him, "You're better than most of the men I've met."
He frowned, "You're lying."
"I'm not!"
"Then I'm curious to know what kind of men you have spoken to."
You shared a laugh. It was the first time he laughed with you and, if you were honest to yourself, it felt quite nice. You were proud of yourself at the fact that now your relationship with him had an improvement; even if it is something so miniscule as a simple chuckle.
You didn't want the conversation to end there.
"I think Jason broke me," you confessed, "I can't even kiss someone without overthinking everything… I'm a mess."
"Nah," he said, "you're just getting started. You just need to gain more confidence, that's all."
"And how am I supposed to do that?"
"Be a whore, girl!" he yelled, making you giggle, "You're not ugly, and it's your time to shine. Make the whole place shimmer and shit!"
"Are you quoting a Taylor Swift song?" you asked, surprised.
He immediately shook his head and frowned, "of course I'm not!" He quickly said, "My point is, you need to put yourself out there and, you know… be a whore."
You pressed your lips in a thin line as you nodded. Your eyes met Aegon's for an instant and, inevitably, the both of you smiled.
"Thank you."
"You're wel- uh, what- what are you doing?"
Your arms were caught up in their way towards his body as you tried to hug him. His hands caught them before they could get any closer to him, and you forced a little in a ridiculous –and quite pathetic– attempt to wrap your arms in his shoulders.
"I'm trying to hug you," you answered, still struggling to do it.
He pushed your arms to the side and then, he patted your head gently.
"No, honey, I don't do hugs."
You tilted your head, sighing with resignation. However, you were content with what had happened. You might have underestimated Aegon, but now you were glad you finally had the chance to get to know him a little bit more.
#new girl!au#aegon targaryen imagine#aegon targaryen x you#aegon x reader#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii#aegon the elder#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii x you#aegon targaryen#aegon x you#aegon the second#aegon ii targaryen x you#aegon ii targaryen x female reader#aegon x fem!reader#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii x reader#house of the dragon#house targaryen#modern!au#modern!aegon targaryen#modern!hotd#hotd x reader#hotd au#hotd#hotd x y/n#hotd x you#hotd fanfic#fluff
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Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU
Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader
Word count: 3.2K
Warnings: A grumpy Papa Solomons (yes, that is a warning) and a whole lot of tooth-rotting domestic fluff
Summary:
Mornings aren’t always easy. For example, it’s terribly difficult to not be caught making breakfast for your fiancé, a workaholic who always takes the task upon himself.
However, what makes it harder today is the fact he loathes food made with recipes found online. Fortunately for you, though, Alfie isn’t the only one who’s good at playing games when he wants to push his own agenda.
Especially those that concern a sweet reward.
Author’s note: I've kept Alfie's adherence to his Jewish heritage quite loose. Nevertheless, I hope that the aspects I did incorporate in this work have been done so properly. If not, let me know and please don't hesitate to educate me (in a polite and respectful manner) because I love learning about different cultures and religions.
Tag List: @potter-solomons @zablife @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @vir-tual @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @mollybegger-blog @solomons-finest-rum @hecatemoon87 @babaohhhriley
TH Masterlist
Mornings like this are rare, these quiet moments unbroken by the usual ruckus in the kitchen. Now, it’s solely my bare feet on the wooden floor and the waves crashing onto the shore. No clanging of metal, no muttered curses in Yiddish or Russian, nor the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
In the living room, Cyril lays in front of the hearth. The first rays of sunshine fall over him like a warm natural blanket, highlighting the ginger undertone in his fur. One of the many features he shares with his owner.
As soon as I pass by, he lifts his head, tilts it in wonder, and lets out a low bark. After all, it’s Alfie who’s more often than not the first one to wander around the house at the crack of dawn. That is, if he’s slept at all. However, recently he’s started properly adhering to the Shabbat. Although, as much as he allows himself to because if Alfie Solomons is one thing, it’s mighty stubborn. Moreover, he’s an incurable workaholic. As hard as he works at The Old Rum House Bakery to let the business flourish and maintain his position as the fearsome Mad Baker of Camden, just as much effort does he put into our relationship. In fact, it’s not only towards Cyril and I his attention goes, but also to the house.
Our home.
Alfie has become a lot more domestic since we started dating, shortly after meeting one another on a train to London. Disregarding his tendency to walk around naked, he cooks and cleans, assuring me time and again I don’t have to help. When we go out for our weekly grocery trip, no matter how tired he is, he carries the bags to the car so that I don’t have to. Neither do I have to put away what we got, more often than not shipped off to the luxurious red sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee or tea to pair with whatever he’s baked at night.
Nevertheless, regardless of the otherwise very loose relationship with his heritage, Ollie and I are glad he’s at least taking a day off in the week to rest up. The bakery has recently started taking its toll thanks to an influx in customers, which means extra stock as well as staff is needed. In turn, this means more part-timers to train and more admin work. In other words, everyone has to pick up the pace to meet the current demand. Such is the power of marketing, especially on social media. Alfie is loath to admit it, but Ollie and I can tell he’s secretly grateful we managed to convince him to let us handle the bakery’s socials.
We don’t get cinnamon buns on Monday anymore, though.
I stop in my tracks, turn to Cyril, and put a finger to my lips. “I know, love, but Papa is still sleeping. It’s finally Mama’s turn to make breakfast again.”
Seldom do I get the chance to experiment in the kitchen, let alone try a recipe I’ve found online. Or worse, via Youtube or Instagram. Now, that’s usually enough to make Alfie bristle. Nevertheless, mention the word ‘viral’ and a scowl will twist his lips.
Sometimes I wonder whether or not Alfie and Cyril are the same person because he lowers his head onto his paws and lets out a deep sigh that sounds like sarcastic resignation.
Thanks for the faith, buddy.
“It’s gonna be okay. No fire in the pan this time, I promise. How about we go stretch our legs after brekkie, hm? That sound good?”
Cyril huffs in agreement and closes his eyes, back to enjoying his luxurious pillow.
We bought it for him when we went antique shop hopping in London last week. Although, perhaps it’s better to say I bought it after convincing my grumpy companion we should occasionally pamper our adopted four-legged child and I couldn’t fix his old pillow anymore. Of course I could, but I was more than done with constantly needing to fix the seams and re-stuff the thing.
Borough Market has become a regular stop on our weekly grocery trip, mostly because I used the splendidly efficient strategy of batting my lashes and pouting. Artisan goods and fresh produce can be luxuries, something to only occasionally splurge on. After all, why spend a fortune when there is a cheaper alternative that’s just as good?
Nonetheless, Alfie developed a taste for supporting local businesses soon after our first visit. To some he has proposed contracts, offering them a position as a supplier to his bakery. Granted their goods are kosher, of course.
Yesterday, we got some wonderful fresh bright yellow bananas, eggs from a local farm, and oat flour from a mill a little ways away from London. Alfie thought little of it when I plonked them triumphantly in our grocery bag, having occupied himself with the fresh stock one of the florists was setting out. I glance at the colourful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and for a moment I’m back to him holding out to me, face full of the warm tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the stern and unpredictable persona he portrays when I’m not there.
Right then and there, he wasn’t The Mad Baker of Camden, the fearsome King who rules the borough.
He was a sweet and caring gentleman.
Simply Alfie Solomons.
Nevertheless, in spite of these small moments of tenderness, he can still be awfully grumpy.
Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.
“Mornin’, dove.” Two big warm hands glide over my hips towards my lower stomach. Those very same palms pull me flush against a naked chest grown soft with neglected muscle, slightly clammy with the remainder of last night’s late summer heat. Alfie presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums, tightening the embrace as he does so. The sonorous trill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and rekindles a familiar heat. Nonetheless, the way he leans on me betrays he isn’t entirely awake yet. The slight slur in his words serve to confirm the lingering drowsiness, sounding like they’ve been pulled out of bed only moments before too. “That shirt looks good on you.”
“I’m glad you think so because you’re not getting it back any time soon.” I briefly stop mixing the batter to scratch his beard. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch as a content sigh escapes him. “You slept in.”
“Still woke up to an empty spot, though. If you want me to sleep more, yeah, which you know I find a terrible waste of time, I’ll need my wife to ‘old.”
I pat his hands to placate him. The thin gold band inlaid with a modest diamond around my ring finger matches his. I had thought Alfie would pick something elaborate for himself, but instead he chose a simple thick gold ring and got it engraved. It says: Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li; I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. “Don’t get hasty. We aren’t married yet.”
“Let’s just go to the courthouse today.’’ He slips his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him, letting them rest on my stomach after a brief caress. It’s a gesture he often makes nowadays. ‘‘Sign the paper, right, and be done with it so the desk eaters are ‘appy. We can always celebrate it later. Throw a party as big as the whole of bloody Camden, like a proper coronation ceremony to celebrate our union.”
“Tempting as it is, I’ll have to refuse. Besides, it's Shabbat today and you need to take a break. I promise I can wait a little while longer to officially become Mrs Solomons.”
“You ‘ave been from the start, Y/N. I don’t need a ring to call you my wife. ‘Sides, you well know ‘ow I am. Which reminds me, breakfast is my job, innit?” A wary tone creeps into his voice as he leans away to check what’s in the mixing bowl. “Is that edible?”
“It will be,” I say, continuing to mix the ingredients until they’re well combined.
“I’m not eatin’ that goo. Looks fucking awful, that stuff.”
“It’s healthy goo! Uses the bananas, eggs, and flour we got yesterday.”
Nose scrunched, Alfie peers at me. “Oh, so yesterday was all a little scam to get me to eat whatever this is?”
“You aren’t the only one who can lie. Although, it’s not really a lie, is it? More like a half-truth.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I simply never told you my plan. Would ruin the surprise.”
“Which is?”
“Baked oats that taste like cake. They just haven’t been baked yet.”
“Where’d you get the recipe?”
“YouTube…”
He groans, wide awake now that the conversation has taken a turn towards a point of absolute irritation. “Fucking ‘ell, dove, ‘ow many times ‘aven’t I told you not every recipe on social media-’’
“Don’t judge before you’ve tried it.” I put the spatula down, turn around in his embrace and steal a kiss off of his lips. “Said so yourself, didn’t you?”
“Don’t use my words against me.”
“Oh, I will. If only to keep things fair. Have a little faith in me. It’ll be fine.”
I hope.
A warning finger raised and pointed at me, he leans in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Fine. But I’m gonna make us coffee, right, so we’ll at least ‘ave something to get us fucking started.”
I can’t suppress a chuckle at the grumpy gesture. “Sure.”
The threat turns into tenderness when he cups my cheek. His palm has grown rough with the hours spent at the bakery, proof of his hard work. Tenderly, he presses his lips to mine. “Ikh hab dir lib.”
“I know.” To show I accept his usual indirect apology for his bad mood and avoid coming across as being cross with me, I run my fingers along his jaw. “I love you too.”
Resting his forehead against mine, he nudges my nose with his. “Mhm.”
“Why don’t you take Cyril for a brief walk, eh? The oats have to bake for twenty-five minutes anyway.”
“We can take ‘im on a walk later together. I’ll go set the table.”
“First put on a pair of knickers.”
“No.”
“You know the rules, Alfie. No buns on the chairs during summer.”
“I ain’t sweating.”
“Not yet.”
“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”
I cock an eyebrow, fighting the smug smirk threatening to break out. “That so?”
“Yeah,” he drawls, “first we’ll ‘ave coffee, right, ‘cause otherwise neither of us functions. Now, ‘ow about after we’ve started the day proper I’ll fuck you like last night, hm?”
Until I black out.
The prospect of it mixes with memories of last night. Sea blue eyes, usually so steady and full of hidden temperaments, barely able to refrain from going cross-eyed. The fight with the stutter in his hips, gradually growing closer to the edge of pleasure but also exhaustion. Big hands reminiscent of wolf paws gripping the headboard for support while I was already lost in a satisfied delirium. The absent-minded glance to the bruises on my thighs adds to the steadily growing heat between my legs, perversely longing for more.
For him.
Nevertheless, the haze clears in an instant with a single sharp thought. I take a step back, crossing my arms as I search his expression for confirmation. However, as usually is the case, Alfie keeps his true motifs to himself. And this time, behind a mask he tends to put on when he wants something from me in particular. “So you can make breakfast. That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”
“No,” he purrs, stealing a kiss as soon as he has bridged the distance between us, “not at all, dove. I just want my wife. I wanna make love to you.” We softly start to sway, slowly making our way out of the kitchen. “Let me make love to you.”
We come to a halt on the threshold. “Later. After you put on a pair of knickers and we’ve eaten.”
He blinks, the cheeky smile grown stiff. I can feel his muscles tense, unconsciously causing him to grip me a bit tighter than before. “But-’’
“Knickers, Alfie.”
“One round.”
“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”
The use of his full name provokes a menacing snarl, the kind which is usually preserved for those who cross him. “Those oats better be fucking worth it, yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’re payin’ for lunch.”
I trace his cock, the skin hot and hardening beneath my fingertips with every sharp intake of breath. Perhaps this game won’t go on for as long as it usually does before he loses control. “Somehow I don’t think I will.”
He roughly grips my face, the thrill of every low-voiced word against my lips travelling throughout my body. “I ought to do somethin’ ‘bout that attitude of yours. Big fucks small, Y/N, always.”
Game over.
Except for the one card I have left to play.
“I know,” I wrap my hand around him, barely able to grip him properly, “but first some knickers. Please, Papa?”
“Clever bird, ain’t ya?” He growls into the kiss when I lightly squeeze him and let go. “Maybe I should carry out my own personal form of stigmata later. Add to those pretty bruises.”
Like snow in the spring sun, his attitude melts and changes. Alfie gently nudges my cheek and makes for the bedroom. A few moments later, he returns and starts setting the table while I pour the batter in the ramekins and plop them in the oven.
Despite the promise to make coffee, I reach for the cupboard to grab a mug. After all, old habits die hard.
Nevertheless, I find myself cut off by a hand that gently lowers mine, away from the handle.
“I said I’ll make us coffee,” Alfie grumbles. “Let Papa Solomons do ‘is job, yeah. Go sit in the livin’ room. I’ll be there shortly.”
I nod at the baking aftermath in the sink. “I got some washing up to do.”
“Nah, that can wait. Coffee and, ‘opefully, food first.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kindly coerces me out of the kitchen. “Go on.”
I let him guide me, feigning defiance by pouting. Yet, the act quickly falls apart with a lighthearted giggle. I suppose I still have a lot to learn from him concerning the art of masks. “Alright.”
Soon after he joins me on the porch, where I’ve settled down with Cyril to enjoy the salt air. The beach across the street is still empty, devoid of the plethora of towels. The breeze is silent, not yet filled with the chatter of tourists and locals alike.
These hours are ours.
This is our Margate.
“'Ere you go, love.” Alfie hands me a steaming mug of cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, the milk soft and foamy, before he sits down next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as I take a sip. “Nice, innit?”
“Mhm.”
Thus we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and each other’s company. Cyril has started to doze off, although he tries in vain to keep his eyes open. One glance to the side tells of Alfie fighting the same battle. Occasionally he pulls a face or lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It’s strangely funny to watch him continue to take a sip afterwards, a small gesture of hope. Surely he should be readily awake before his cup is empty.
Because sleeping isn’t an option.
He’s tired of the nightmares.
The faint sound of the oven going off disturbs the domestic bliss.
Alfie groans as struggles to get up, glad to have my arm to use as support while he pulls himself to his feet. I say nothing, knowing full well how his sciatica influences his mood.
And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.
As Alfie washes his hands, I get the baked oats out of the oven and place them on the plates. Meanwhile, Alfie warms up a few slices of babka and the challah bread we made together yesterday. “Just so we ‘ave somethin’.”
He sits down while I wash my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see him poke the oats with his fork. “It’s kosher?”
“It is,” I say, drying my hands before I sit down across from him. “Shall I go first?”
“Very funny.” He scoops a bit of the oats onto his fork and puts it in his mouth. His brows knit together, contemplating the taste.
“And? Do you like it?”
Remaining silent and gaze fixed on the ramekin, he pokes his oats again.
I swallow hard, my excitement crushed under the stones of dread. A nagging voice in the back of my head feeds into the fear of his judgement. Funny how one connects their self worth to food. Then again, it was that which started our relationship. A cup of coffee, a slice of babka, and a slice of plant-based carrot cake. Back then, though, my stomach didn’t quiver this badly nor did my ribs feel like they were caged in a very tight-strung corset. “You don’t.”
“Dove,” he begins, but doesn’t continue.
Not until after he’s had another bite. “It’s good.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or simply trying to appease me.”
“I’m serious.”
“You are?”
“I am,’’ he says, raising his voice ever so slightly in spite of the effort to keep it even. Alfie finally meets my gaze and I can tell he’s being sincere regardless of the way he accusingly waves his fork at me. ‘‘But I still don’t like 'ow you got this off of the internet. ‘Ow many times ‘aven’t I told you, hm? You should know better by now.”
I chuckle as I at last taste the baked oats myself. They’re chocolatey with a subtle banana undertone, which is warmed by the cinnamon. “I gotta find new recipes somehow.”
“There are cookbooks.”
“Too limited and they take up too much space.” While nibbling on a piece of challah bread, I take a sip of coffee. “Can I make this more often?”
“It does taste like cake,” he reluctantly admits, spooning up another bite. “Yes, you can.”
“Why do you make it sound like there’s a condition?”
“You can make these oats, yeah, if I get to serve you something sweet in return.”
Something not to be had in the kitchen.
‘‘Deal,’’ I lean in, biting my lip as I play my final card, ‘‘Papa.’’
Alfie clenches his fork upon hearing his favourite nickname, the title he is secretly proud of. A dark haze clouds his eyes, the gloss in them highlighted by the morning sun. The smirk on his lips has evened out, his jaw tightened with the effort to practise self-restraint.
Game over.
I won.
And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.
#alfie solomons#alfie solomons imagine#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#alfie solomons x reader
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👋😁 Helloo again~ My dear!! For the explicit Alucard ideas, may we have a soft dom F!Reader and pegging, please?? 😊 Maybe as a first time experience for them both?? (Honestly don't have a specific scenario in mind, you can go wherever the road takes you.👍 Canon timeline, AU, time skip, etc. the ball's in your court 😉)
Hi! Here I am, and told you before: love this (he would too, 1000%).
Taken
Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)
Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader
Rating: E 🔞
Count: 1K
Tags & Warnings: smut, pegging, strap-on sex, soft dom hours, emotions, pleading, metaphorical angels getting rammed, season III never happened here
He’s beautiful.
Of course, that’s obvious but now it’s not in the usual, ethereal way you’re used to seeing. It’s the way he lies naked on this enormous bed, muscled body glistening, his cock wet with precum tucked tightly against his abdomen, and his thighs spread; and you, on your knees, between them.
His pupils are dilated, eyes glowing in the golden-black chiaroscuro the silvery candelabra spreads across the chamber. Parted lips bitten raw and that long, silky hair fanned all around him like a halo.
I'd like to get what you’re getting, my dear.
It was just a thought shared once, as you both stared at the jade phallus found by chance during one of the many cleaning incursions into the Hold.
And now here he is, having meant it after all; all oiled up and you both took your sweet time prepping him—a first for you, and more arousing than many a thing you'd tried until then—to ensure the least amount of discomfort when you actually entered him. Even now, your own cheeks are aflame remembering the slow moments, the licks and soft moans as you felt him inside, your fingers tentative at first, then pursuing and finding that spot which had him cry out and lean into your hand; him, helping adjust the straps on the leather harness about your hips, his touch sliding to massage your pussy as he did.
You’ve not begun to move yet, but when he does it, you know you relish the slow way he enters your body. “Halfway in…”
Adrian nods, not breaking your gaze for a second. “Go for more, it’s… fine.”
And you do, delighting in the warm flush on his cheekbones as you inch deeper, watching him until the pleasure toy disappears inside his body to the hilt. “Is this all right?” you ask, feeling his back arching on the bed.
“Yes.” When he says it, his cock twitches—delighted, you take it in hand, stroking in a languid rhythm, rubbing the slick head, keeping your hips completely still at first before joining in with slow, shallow movements.
“You’re... gorgeous like this…” you murmur, and an intense need comes over you, to see what else only you can make him feel, and wondering: is this the sense of ownership and immense gratification he feels, when you’re squirming and panting and shaking under him?
Adrian doesn’t reply but smiles that dangerous, sharp smile as you keep pumping him in tune with his breaths. “You’re too far,” you murmur, because there's not enough of him to touch like this.
Lowering yourself to him until your breasts are flattened against his hard chest feels much better, with your abdomen pressing into his erection, now coated in the stickiness of his desire. He winds an arm around you as you lick into his mouth, thrusting slowly and gaining rhythm as his cock pulses against your belly, as his moans grow longer and his kisses wilder. His amber eyes gleam at you with feral passion when you break apart, a shiny, thin thread of spit between your mouths.
His lips part, but no words come out—his eyes roll back as you thrust, both hands grasping your ass and holding you there. He’s hot as a forge against you, growling like an animal when he releases you and is given more.
“I have an idea... Up,” you order, sucking on his lower lip and slowly retreating. You rise and stand by the bed, hands on your naked hips and makeshift cock erect.
Adrian does the same, a lewd grin on his face, drunk on thrill. “This suits you,” he says, towering over you and grabbing your chin for a kiss.
“Turn around for me, will you, beautiful?” you push against him.
“Mmh…” he complies, and props a leg against the bed so you can easily play.
You caress and lick his broad back, a hand on his shoulder for leverage and the other on his muscled thigh as you enter him again in one slow plunge.
His moan is such delectable music, and you love being the cause; you love the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he gives in. On the opposite side of the bed, is a large oval mirror. “Look at you,” you murmur, moving as Adrian sighs and grits his teeth, and you both watch his reflection in the mirror: licked by candlelight, abdomen tight, his tasty cock hard between defined thighs and dangling in tune with each controlled thrust you slap against his ass, each muscle harmoniously flowing beneath his pale skin.
“Tell me, Adrian,” you whisper, “are you getting what I’m getting now?”
He turns his head for a kiss, taking to stroking himself. “Yes… and I’d… love… to get it harder, please.”
You giggle, heart beating up your throat but latch onto his hips with a deathgrip, and go as hard and deep as your powers allow.
You find you enjoy making this man moan and fall apart, being the one to hold and pull the reins—you always did have a streak for it. And Adrian, for as much as he likes to be the levelheaded one during the day, appears to love being owned, being taken apart, relishes in it with earnest abandon.
He’s pumping himself faster now, groaning with your movements, swearing and letting his head fall back—the sight in the mirror is an erotic painting, one you’ll keep forever: that of an angel in ecstasy; an angel, being fucked by you.
His hips jerk and snap as he cums, spurting white slick all over his hand. “Please… don’t… don’t stop,” he begs, and since he’s being so sweet about it…
You push him so he falls onto the bed and climb on top of him, layering your body over his. Your breasts press against his sweaty back; you place a kiss to his pointed ear, another to his glistening temple as Adrian turns his head. Your hand finds his, fingers curling together.
You stare at each other, and the lost adoration in his long-lashed eyes leaves you speechless. “You were… so good, AH—!” he grins at a snap of your hips, eyes closing again.
“More?” you ask, smiling, your ass gently moving up and down.
His clawed hand glides down your side, a finger pulling gently on the leather strap of the harness. “More…”
MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER
More of my work is on AO3
#alucard x reader#adrian tepes x reader#alucard smut#castlevania smut#alucard castlevania x reader#castlevania x reader#castlevania imagine#adrian tepes x you#castlevania alucard x reader#x reader#ruiniel:fanfiction#alucard x you#castlevania x you
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@huskers-bar x @nunalastor chapter 2
Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do in this fic (not yet though), minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department of the hazbin hotel (lucifer grabbed them randomly), jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu as a villain, lulu is a dog, huskers-bar is a liar, secret dating?
chapter: 2/? / chapter Word count: 1852 / total word count: 3283
Featuring: babygirl anon and @xxx-angie . eventually will feature solis, the oc of @soliac-snecc
nunalastor as a single entity is nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. I will be lulu. Angie will be angie but is meant to be read as angel dust.
A/N: I am a little drunk while writing the start of this, forgive me for any weird mistakes and stuff. bit of a change to the script, angie will no longer be a villain, but an obstacle and yes. I am currently the only true villain. the font size joke was very much forced in
this chapter is huskers-bar focused
"Ugh... Fuck"
The growly and gruff voice of Huskers echoed throughout the empty room. They winced as they rolled over in bed, accidentally knocking over a pile of empty bottles. The sound of their clinking was giving them a headache. One shattered at the side of the makeshift bed of their small private room-
Which you can only get at voxtek, come and become a part of the family! Voxtek, trust us with your employment and living quarters-
Ugh, they must be hallucinating... They squinted their eyes, trying to make sense of their surroundings. The migrane wasn't helping. Huskers stared at the ceiling, a little more dazed than usual. They tried to recall what happened, but the past few hours were completely wiped from their memory. It must've been one of those days. They look over at the clock.
It'a about time they get to work...
With one groan they get up, dragging their hands on the floor as they reach for their keys and phone. The room still spun a little, but it's not like they had a choice. They headed towards the door, less than ready, and finally left their sanctuary.
~
"Where the fuck is my cameraman?!" The angry shouting of Val could be heard from behind closed doors. Vox can already hear the glasses breaking and his precious voxtek equipment getting destroyed. The frustration of dealing with that mans temper never stops. Who does he think he is anyway?! Making all these expensive equipment costs money! Precious money! And it doesn't help the fact that he always demands the highest quality cameras too. Besides, why does he need them?! His eyes see in 144p anyway!
It was right at that point when a knife cut through the wooden door and broke yet another piece of expensive furniture. Great. All these were custom made god damn it.
Vox sighed heavily, trying to pinch an imaginary bridge of his nose, before his fingers were met with the flatness of his screen. It was the thought that counts.
"Hey huskers" vox called out with casual annoyance, like he'd rather not be dealing with this right now.
Huskers who had been loading up the latest voxtek equipment paused and turned their attention to Vox. "Yes?" They asked.
"I need you to take over the cameraman duty, our regular isn't showing up on time" Vox explained, already making his way to the door and waving his hand dismissively, muttering something under his breath about killing their regular with a five headed spear later.
Huskers, hurried to put away the box, which they assumed was filled with weird sex toys, and hurried over to Val's door. The knife sticking out of the door was concerning but it wouldn't be the first. Carefully they opened the door, readying themselves to dodge any attack thrown their way. Luckily for them, Val seemed to be distracted with another employee.
"Hi, I'm a stand-in for the cameraman" husk said, sliding over to the cameras sneakily. Val of course noticed and angrily shouted. "Fucking finally! That slut finally sent a bitch. Now chop chop!"
~
The job of a cameraman was not an easy one, especially when the scene in front of you is ridiculous. Not intentionally of course, but husk had to keep it in if they valued their life. Val didn't seem like the type of person who would take that kind of "disrespect" lightly.
"Oh daddy, please don't stack all those donuts on my penis!" Came the overly sexual and whimpering voice of Angie, who finally had gotten that line down without breaking character. A fish demon groaned, both for the act and because this stupid scene had finally been recorded after attempt number 69, much to everyone's relief. Val was getting antsy and would murder some poor employee any second.
Husk didn't know how angie took any of it seriously, even the sexier scenes. The whole scripted aspect felt very silly and goofy.
They guessed it didn't matter though, their job was finally done and they can fuck off from the studio. Husk would not be missing this place. They got up off their chair and just as they were about to head out, Angie, the one and only, had stopped them with an arm on the shoulder.
"Hey there new kid, pleasure-" he said, moaning out that specific word like a bitch in heat "to be doin buisness with ya" he said, offering two hands to shake husks one. Angie leaned against one of the lamps, nearly knocking it over in the process and started eyeing them up and down. "So, what brings ya to this studio?"
Huskers was visibly a little put off by the directness, but they should've expected as much. Everyday an event just reminds them that they are indeed in hell and that only the worst of the worst live here...
Ah, yes the question. "I'm just a stand-in for whoever was here before" They answered, pointing vaguely at the outside world. "Vox asked me to, and honestly doing camerawork is a much lighter load than what I was doing before"
Angie quirked a brow at this, either confused or not expecting that response. It could've honestly been both. His demeanor changed quickly though. "yeah. say, whatchya doin later?" biting his lip, he wiggled his eyebrows in a manner that would make grown men cum on the spot.
"Drowning down my sorrows with liquor" Huskers deadpanned, not biting at that fruit angel was so provocatively dangling in front of them. A scoff from him was expected. what wasn't expected though, was that the scoff was more amused than offended.
"you remind me of someone. say, how do you feel about redemption?"
~
"And these are the cockroaches that won't stop breeding! and this is the wall with a record breaking repairs done to it, and here's Angies dildo collection and-"
"babe, we've talked about this, you don't have to show them everything" Vaggie said, patting charlies shoulder hoping to ease or at least slow down the excited vibrating of her dearly beloved.
"Right, right! Sorry!" Charlie was quick to snap out of it, offering a small kiss to the back of Vaggies palm as an appreciative thank you and returning her attention back to Husk.
Husk was very much overwhelmed. All the energy in the room was making their brain sort-circuit and start buffering. They felt like they were under a microscope and being prodded with electric wires and it was... strangely pleasant. "Uh... Yes hi?"
A very mischievous chuckle came from nearby, one very much at a higher pitch of frequency and- Wait, is that the radio demon?
"Pardon my intrusion, but what is that on your wrist?" Alastor the radio demon said, bending his slutty waist to lean down at Husks eye level. "I believe there's a strict 'no voxtek products' policy here. Did you not bother to read the sign?" Alastor pointed his cane over to the whiteboard, which read:
RULES:
no Voxtek
no Vox
Jambalaya every friday
One of those sexy tentacles reached out, unclipping and retrieving the watch. He held it up in the air in front of everyone to see.
A collective gasp echoed through the room as Vaggie swiftly retrieved her spear from behind her back, pointing it menacingly at Husk "Not another one of these idiots" Vaggie growled, now in her defensive position. Angie and Charlie both flew to husk's defense, meanwhile Husk remained frozen in place. This was how they double died wasn't it?
"It's okay guys, they just work at voxtek. They're okay, I would know. They're harmless" Angie used one set of arms to shield husk and the other to gesture for everyone to ease their guard. The tension did die down a little, but that was fine. The tension in the room slowly began to dissipate, but Angie knew that Charlie would soon work her magic and convince everyone to give Husk a chance, as per usual.
~
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"nun get out! I need to take a shit" dickmaster banged on the hotel's currently singular clean bathroom. The force of their knocking was definitely excessive and damaging to their hands, but it got the desperation of the request-no-demand across.
"you said to help answer asks, so I am doing that... in the toilet" Nun yelled through the door, not even bothering to look towards the door, currently blocking access to Dickmasters relief.
"I doubt that" Dickmaster crossed their arms, and legs. Their bladder was about to fucking explode. Just at that moment a ding went off on their phone.
'nunalastor just posted: anonymous asked...'.
huh.
guess they were actually answering asks in there.
"Okay fine but I still need to shit! Do your answering outside!"
"I'll get out after one more ask" Nun chuckled, knowing full well, they weren't about to stop the torment anytime soon.
"Your eyesight is piss poor. I doubt you can even read anything on your phone"
"You'll just have to wait and see~"
And of course, as any normal sane person would do in this situation, Dickmaster decided to start banging on the door until either nun had enough and left or until the door broke and they murdered nun themself.
"I bet your phone's font size is 230%-"
~
All that banging attracted the attention of Husk, who had been wandering around the room with Angie. They weren't walking together, but their paths were the same.
"What's that noise?"
"Oh that? That's just our marketing team doing their job"
"Sounds like fucking... Are they fucking?"
"HA, doubt it..." there was a pause, both in the speech and in the walk. "Maybe, sex sells afterall" Angie shrugged and continued walking forward.
"seems counterproductive for a place made for rehabilitation..."
Husk couldn't help but be curious. This hotel had turned out to be everything they hadn't expected from Hell. The residents were surprisingly pleasant, and even the staff, though weird as fuck, weren't as unbearable as the other sinners in Hell. Now that they thought about it, Charlie never mentioned a marketing staff. She seemed so excited to share about the hotel and it's people. One would think she wouldn't forget to mention them, right?
unable to resist the curiousity, Husk had to know who they were. They quietly sneaked towards the source of the banging. They rounded the corner and was met with an... Interesting visual. One demon, black eyes with yellow pupils desperately pounding on a door.
Dickmaster paused their relentless banging, a feeling of being watched washing over them. Their head snapped immediately in Husk's direction, locking eyes with them. Their expression displayed emotional as well as physical constipation.
Husk froze, their body stiffening like a board. Had they interrupted something? Should they make a break for it? The state of being caught in such an awkward situation was undeniably terrifying. With a rigid and awkward wave, Husk managed an awkward smile. And then they realised-
"Are you nunalastor? You look just like your profile picture"
FUCK, they're going to get accused of being a stalker.
#stopping the fic here because I am actually going insane#and yes#I got a bit lazy at the end#nunwhiskers#huskers bar x nunalastor#huskers-bar x nunalastor
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Thanks to @ninzied for the tag!
How many works do you have on ao3?
120!
What's your total ao3 word count?
1,371,932
What fandoms do you write for?
RWRB, TMFU, Lokius
Top five fics by kudos:
Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood
Nova, Baby
Class(room) Warfare
All the Old Showstoppers
Always Where I Need To Be
Do you respond to comments?
I try. I used to be very good at responding but my backlog has gotten extreme (1491 unanswered comments as of right now, if you're curious) so at this point I pretty much only answer if it's a chapter in an ongoing multichap, or someone asks a question.
What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I have a caradin fic that's straight up a break-up fic with no resolution, but I still feel like my angstiest is probably Black Moon (napollya), because they're in love but the situation is so fucking bleak. Sorry guys.
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Any of them that end with a proposal lol? I've got a lot of fluffy fics and all of my long fics end with pure fluff, so I don't think I could pick out one.
Do you get hate on fics?
I have been lucky not to really get any, at least lately. I've gotten... less than polite comments, of course, but no outright hate (knock on wood).
Do you write smut?
Yes, although I would not say it's an integral part of my writing tbh.
Craziest crossover:
Craziest might be Maybe, This Time, which is a Mandalorian/BSG crossover that involves dimension-hopping lol.
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of.
Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes! I've had a few of my TMFU works translated and now there's someone in the RWRB fandom that translates most (!!) of my fics into Mandarin, which is mind blowing and flattering and I'm so grateful because I've gotten comments from people who have read them translated and loved them.
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Not yet!
All time favorite ship?
I don't think I can pick one; some of my past ships are just that—past—but there are a few I will carry in my heart forever.
What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
If I want to finish it, I will, even if it takes a long time. I might stop wanting to finish a wip, but that's not the question is it?
What are your writing strengths?
Banter/dialogue, action, pacing, plots. People have told me that they can picture my scenes like a movie because of the description and that makes me feel good.
What are your writing weaknesses?
Although I have my moments, I don't really tend to think of my writing as beautiful. I'm just not that poetic/lyrical.
Thoughts on dialogue in another language?
Sure! If it's in my own fic I usually have a native speaker look over it (I haven't done this lately but I have gotten Russian consults for TMFU fics).
First fandom you wrote in?
Xena: Warrior Princess, back when that show was airing. Fanfic primarily distributed over internet mailing lists and posted on your own website.
Favorite fic you've written?
Stealing Nina's idea and doing one in each of my main fandoms I've written in because it's hard to pick (even then this was rough).
Nova, Baby Series—Spy AU, Firstprince
Love is a Losing Game—Chess AU, Napollya (SHOCKER I KNOW)
What Makes a Good Man Series—Spy AU, Lokius
Here It Goes Again—The Mandalorian (Caradin but mostly Din character study in a time loop)
I'm not sure who's been tagged and who hasn't or even everyone who has done this, but a few tags below the cut. If you'd like to do it, jump in!
@kiwiana-writes, @rmd-writes, @three-drink-amy, @cricketnationrise, @14carrotghoul
@leaves-of-laurelin, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @inexplicablymine, @firenati0n, @liminalmemories21
@orchidscript, @sparklepocalypse, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @mirilyawrites, @heytheredeann
@nicijones, @justabigoldnerd, @myheartalivewrites
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