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yndrgrl · 8 months ago

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your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him

cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.

warnings: there are none :D

a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !

katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.

& in comes you. plain old you.

you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.

it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.

he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.

"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"

"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.

"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.

you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.

you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.

"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"

"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.

"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."

you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"

"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."

"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"

"worthy of me?"

"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?

"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.

"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"

"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.

"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"

"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"

you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.

there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.

"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"

"i mean-"

"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.

he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."

it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.

you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.

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pomefioredove · 2 months ago

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There was only one bed troupe w/ Rollo and/or Neige? Maybe we got forced into a road trip again and crowley, the genius he is, didn't order the rooms correctly, and now we have a couple room. Good bc big room, but . 1 bed. Shenanigans/pining or something ensue ❤️

actually scrumptious idea I'll take ten more of these /lh throwing in che'nya as a special treat

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ only one bed

type of post: blurbs characters: rollo, neige, che'nya additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Night Raven College is hosting its own cultural event, and everything has been going... strangely well. Seriously! No overblots, no evil schemes, just a day of food, festivities, and fun.

Then then sun sets. And then, of course, everything goes wrong.

"Prefect!" Crowley says, throwing your door open. "Something terrible has happened! A complete fool has miscounted the number of beds needed to accommodate our guests!"

You don't like where this is going. "...And?"

"Since the other rooms in Ramshackle are currently under renovation, I told our guest they could stay with you!"

"A complete fool?" a cold voice asks. "If I recall correctly, Monsieur Crowley, you said you were the one who arranged the rooms."

Crowley laughs nervously and steps aside, letting Rollo Flamme in.

"Yes, well... ah, um... good evening!" the headmaster says, dismissing himself.

Rollo waits until he's gone out the front door before turning to you.

"Hello... again," he says. "I apologize for this... reunion. I'm aware these arrangements are completely improper."

You look around awkwardly. "No, it's... okay. You can come in,"

"You're a poor liar. But thank you,"

When it comes time for sleep, Rollo puts an unnecessary amount of distance between the two of you, nearly hanging off the edge of the bed with his back turned towards you. He's stiff.

It looks uncomfortable. "Are you sure you-"

"I'm well, thank you," his tone is sharp, but there's no malice in it.

You fall asleep before him, but he does eventually relax.

You know this, of course, because when you wake up, he's moved across the bed. His face is buried in your side, his arms tight around your waist, as if he's afraid you'll leave.

It's almost cute, in a way. And you let him be.

He looks like he could use the rest.

You can almost see the rays of sunshine before Neige comes in, a cute little suitcase under his arm.

Crowley wishes you a good night and books it before you can ask any questions, leaving you with the boy.

"...My, this is a very dirty place," he says, studying a cobweb in the corner.

"I've been working on that,"

Neige turns back to you with the brightest smile. "Oh, I can tell! You've made a wonderful home here."

It's weird, a compliment without the bite. You don't even know what to say.

After Neige fusses and coos over Grim for a while, he gets in bed at 9:30, an unsurprisingly early time. You follow, exhausted from the day, anyway.

He doesn't ask to cuddle, but he keeps looking at you. Those big, doe-like eyes are even shinier in the dark.

Eventually, you give in. "...Alright,"

Neige smiles, absolutely delighted, and you have to remind yourself that he's not just getting closer to pick your pockets. He just likes it. Your arm rests around his shoulders as he clings to your side, warm and comfortable in his handmade pajamas.

When you wake up the next morning, he's made you (and Grim) breakfast in bed with what little he could find in your collapsing pantry.

And, inexplicably, the entire house is clean.

"Hello again, you~" but the voice is coming from inside your room.

You flinch in surprise, and Che'nya giggles.

"Wha- Che'nya?" you ask, and turn back to the headmaster. "Wouldn't it make more sense for him to stay at Heartslabyul?"

"Nothing "makes sense" about that boy," Crowley sighs. "Well... good luck with that!"

And then he leaves. You stand there in defeat as Che'nya starts looking through your personal belongings.

He also seems to prefer looking at you, rather than sleeping.

"This house is rather drafty,"

"It's winter," you sigh. He's been staring at you for the past hour.

He hums. "I wonder if the snow loves the tree and fields, that it kisses them gently?"

More nonsense, you think.

Finally, you give up. "If you're cold, you can lay on me,"

You can tell that Che'nya likes that, not only because he immediately curls up, purring with his head on your stomach and his limbs taking up half the bed, but because he stops talking.

At least you can sleep in peace.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #rollo flamme x reader #neige leblanche x reader #che'nya x reader

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solxamber · 2 months ago

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Stolen Kisses - Rollo Flamme x Reader

5 times you kiss him and the one time he kisses you

Rollo Week D7! and that's a wrap! and it's very very slightly suggestive at the end but nothing really nsfw.

The first time it happens, it's almost instinctual. You're sitting beside him on the edge of the fountain in the middle of town, the evening casting a golden glow over everything. He’s telling you about something—probably the new reforms he’s working on for the city—but his face looks so serious, so intent, that you can’t help but smile.

Without thinking, you lean in and gently press your lips to his forehead. It’s soft and fleeting, like the brush of a breeze. He freezes mid-sentence, eyes wide in surprise as his hand flutters to where your lips had just been.

“W-What are you doing?” Rollo stammers, his voice uncharacteristically shaky.

You grin, pulling back but staying close. “You were overthinking again.”

He tries to hide the pink that rises in his cheeks by turning his head slightly, muttering something about "distractions" under his breath. But you don’t miss the tiny, almost imperceptible smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

It’s during one of the city’s festivals, and despite his usual disdain for such "frivolous" celebrations, Rollo finds himself walking with you through the lively streets. You’ve been excited all day, dragging him to stalls and making him try different foods, and while he pretends to be unamused, you can tell he’s having a good time.

At one point, as you’re watching a parade go by, you catch him looking at you with a soft, contemplative expression. He tries to school his features into his usual neutral mask, but it’s too late. You’ve seen it.

Without a word, you lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek. It's quick but deliberate, leaving a warm imprint on his skin.

He stiffens instantly, eyes darting to the people around you as if someone might have seen. “Must you always do these… these things in public?” His voice is low, but there’s no real bite to it.

You just laugh, taking his hand in yours. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

He huffs but doesn’t pull away, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks once again.

Rollo isn’t much of a morning person, and today is no different. He sits at the breakfast table, eyes half-closed, nursing a cup of tea like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, and there's something endearing about seeing him like this—so unguarded.

You’re sitting across from him, quietly enjoying your own drink when a mischievous idea strikes you. You get up from your seat and walk over to him, leaning down to kiss him on the nose.

The kiss is soft and playful, your lips barely brushing the tip of his nose before you pull back with a satisfied grin.

Rollo’s eyes snap open, fully awake now. His brow furrows, but there's no real anger in his expression—just mild bewilderment. “That was completely unnecessary.”

“Maybe, but it was cute,” you reply, sitting back down.

He mutters something under his breath, probably about you being insufferable, but the faint pink hue on his face betrays how flustered he really is.

Rollo has always had a certain grace about him, the way he carries himself—upright, composed, like someone who constantly bears the weight of responsibility. So, when you’re walking together through the quiet streets, his hand in yours, you can’t help but admire how steady and firm his grip is.

Out of nowhere, you stop walking, causing him to pause and turn towards you. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you lift his hand to your lips and place a delicate kiss on the back of it.

He looks at you in surprise, eyes wide, and for a moment, he’s completely speechless.

“I just… wanted to thank you,” you say softly, smiling up at him.

His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out. Instead, he simply nods, his face turning redder by the second. “There’s no need to… for such gestures…” he mumbles, but his fingers curl around yours a little tighter, holding onto that moment.

This one catches even you by surprise.

It’s late, and you’re both sitting in the library, working on something that requires more focus than usual. The room is quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of a quill on parchment. You’re tired, and you can see Rollo is too, the way his posture has slumped slightly, and the tired look in his eyes.

Without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just below his ear. It’s an intimate gesture, far more than any of the other kisses you’ve given him, and you can feel him tense beneath you.

He turns to look at you, wide-eyed, clearly at a loss for words. “That… was quite unexpected.”

You shrug, suddenly feeling a bit bashful but refusing to show it. “I thought you could use some encouragement.”

His face flushes, but there’s something different in the way he looks at you now. His usual calm demeanor falters, just for a moment, and in that instant, you can see the conflict behind his eyes—the way he fights to maintain his composure, even though he’s clearly affected.

It's late, and the soft glow of candlelight bathes the room in a warm, golden hue. The sound of the crackling fire fills the space as you sit beside Rollo on the edge of the bed, the evening having lulled both of you into a comfortable silence. It’s one of those nights where words seem unnecessary, the unspoken connection between you enough to fill the room.

Rollo, ever composed and controlled, sits next to you, his posture just as proper as always. But there’s something different in the air tonight—a tension that’s been building between you both, thick and palpable. His usual calm gaze lingers on you longer than usual, his eyes darkening with something unspoken.

You lean in, instinctively closing the distance, expecting to offer another soft, teasing kiss on his forehead or cheek, but this time, before you can act, Rollo moves first.

He grabs your wrist, gently but firmly, and pulls you toward him, his breath warm against your skin. His lips crash against yours, and the kiss is anything but hesitant. It’s deep, commanding, as if he’s been holding back for far too long and can’t any longer. His hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer still, the intensity of it making your heart race.

The kiss is slow but purposeful, full of heat and desire, and when he tilts his head to deepen it, you feel a shiver run down your spine. His lips part slightly, allowing him to tease you with the faintest brush of his tongue, testing, tempting. The taste of him is intoxicating, and you can't help but let out a quiet sigh against his mouth.

Rollo’s grip tightens, his usual restraint giving way to something more raw, more primal. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, your bodies pressed together as the kiss becomes more fervent, more urgent. There's nothing of his usual formality now, only the need to feel you, to claim you in this moment.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, lips swollen and eyes locked. His gaze is darker than you’ve ever seen, filled with an unmistakable hunger. He leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, voice huskier than usual, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You smile, breathless but exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest as you tug him back in for more. "Then don’t stop now."

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst rollo x reader #rollo x you #rollo x reader #twst rollo #rollo flamme #rollo #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamme x you

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soulprompts · 11 months ago

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IDEAS FOR A DATE! ( A PROMPT LIST! )

now before i give this list, i want to address two things: 1) i'm enclosing a list of reasons for people to go on dates, because i want to, and also because there's some very good reasons for dates, and 2) i plan to write another list that's not as modern and contemporary, for my historical and fantastical and science-fictionally minded angels! for now, bon appetit: remember, your muses might be undercover, on a blind date, on a first date, matched online, a platonic date, trying to make other love interests jealous, like there are so many reasons, don't be shy, and DON'T ADD TO THIS LIST.

[ LEARN ]: the sender and receiver attend a class together (e.g. for cooking, baking, dancing, pottery, etc.) for a date.

[ ARCADE ]: the sender and receiver decide to visit an arcade together for a date.

[ DRINK ]: the sender and receiver meet each other at a bar for a date.

[ SANDY ]: the sender and receiver go to the beach together for a date involving strolling, a picnic, swimming and watching the sunset!

[ STRIKE! ]: the sender and receiver meet at a bowling alley for a date to practice their bowling skills.

[ MORNING ]: the sender and receiver decide to meet for a breakfast date rather than a dinner one.

[ FOREST ]: the sender and receiver take a weekend break in the woods, staying in a lovely cabin surrounded by nature.

[ TENT ]: alternatively, instead of finding a cabin to stay in for the night, the sender and receiver pack their tents and head out for a camping trip instead.

[ POPCORN ]: the sender and receiver opt for the classic date option of going to see a movie at the cinema together.

[ CAFÉ ]: going for a more relaxed option, the sender and receiver arrange to meet up for coffee and cake at a local café for a date.

[ MUSIC ]: finding tickets to their favorite band's concert, the sender and receiver head out for the night to listen to them play.

[ BICYCLE ]: the sender and receiver mount their bikes and head off to cycle in the countryside together.

[ DUO ]: the sender and receiver set up the bluetooth speakers and dance together in the peace of their own home to the sounds of their favorite songs.

[ DIY ]: the sender and receiver are about to go out for a date, but instead end up staying at home to complete a DIY project together.

[ ESCAPE ]: the sender and receiver attempt to solve an escape room together for a particularly exciting date.

[ COMMUNITY ]: the sender and receiver visit a local fair, festival, market or parade together for a date.

[ PLUS ONE ]: the sender and receiver put on their glad rags and attend a very fancy and prestigious event together.

[ WINNER ]: the sender and receiver set up a game night (card games, board games, video games, etc.) at home for their date.

[ GELATO ]: the sender and receiver head out to the best ice-cream parlour in town for a cold and sweet date.

[ SPEED ]: the sender and receiver go to a go-karting track for a particularly competitive date.

[ HIKE ]: the sender and receiver lace up their hiking boots and head out to a scenic hiking route together.

[ SADDLE UP ]: the sender and receiver take the reins and head out for a scenic horseback riding session together.

[ UP ]: the sender and receiver take an unforgettable ride in a hot air balloon for a date.

[ SING ]: the sender and receiver find a local karaoke bar and take turns singing solos and duets together.

[ PAGES ]: the sender and receiver find a cozy library-café and spend an enjoyable date reading books and drinking coffee together.

[ CHEF ]: deciding to stay in for the evening, the sender and receiver decide to make dinner together in the comfort of their own home.

[ HOLE IN ONE ]: the sender and receiver find a nearby mini-golf course and decide to play a few holes together.

[ MOVIE ]: the sender and receiver pick a few movies to watch for the evening and curl up on the sofa with some snacks to watch them together.

[ PAST ]: the sender and receiver go to a museum or an art gallery together to see the displays and get to know one another better.

[ CLUB ]: the sender and receiver get dolled up and go to a very popular and newly opened nightclub together.

[ PORTRAIT ]: the sender and receiver get canvases and paints and begin to paint one another at home, leaving plenty of peace and quiet to get to know each other.

[ AIM ]: the sender and receiver get suited up to go for a paintballing session together.

[ OUTSIDE ]: the sender and receiver get their nicest blanket, their favorite refreshments, and head out to a park for a nice relaxing picnic.

[ ITALIANO ]: the sender and receiver attempt to make their own pizzas at home together.

[ DINNER ]: the sender and receiver go to a nice restaurant together for a dinner date.

[ ROAD ]: the sender and the receiver embark on a long but worthwhile road trip together.

[ ROWING ]: the sender and receiver get into a rowboat together and guide the boat down the river.

[ QUICK ]: the sender and receiver meet one another for the first time at a speed dating event.

[ ROLLER ]: the sender and receiver put their roller-blades on and hit the rinks together.

[ RELAX ]: the sender and receiver head out to a luxurious spa resort together for some well-earned rest and massages.

[ COMFORT ]: the sender and receiver transform their home into a makeshift spa and give each other facials and massages for the evening.

[ STARS ]: the sender and receiver stretch out on the rooftop/lawn/back of a truck etc. for a night of star-gazing together.

[ WALK ]: the sender and the receiver go out for a nice, relaxing stroll together to see the sights.

[ POOL ]: the sender and receiver go out to the pool, beach or lake for a swimming session together.

[ SHARE ]: the sender and receiver split the evening in half to teach one another a skill that they're particularly good at (e.g. the sender teaching the receiver how to paint, etc.)

[ QUIZ ]: the sender and receiver go out together and find a local pub that's hosting a table quiz event, which they decide to enter.

[ AWAY ]: the sender and the receiver decide to indulge in a long vacation somewhere that they've both wanted to go for a long time.

[ BREAK ]: in the spirit of compromising, the sender and receiver book a nice quiet weekend break together.

[ SIP ]: the sender and receiver book tickets for a wine tasting event in a local vineyard.

[ SAIL ]: the sender and receiver go out on a yacht for the evening.

#roleplay meme #rp meme #sentence starters #ask meme #roleplay prompts #rp prompt #writing prompts

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pedgito · 10 days ago

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𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 & 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Dave York x reader

summary | Dave's one last contract to tie up before the holidays proves to be more difficult than he expected.

author's note | my adventures in trying to write pwp have failed me again. i made this gifset and here we are. so you get whatever this crazy is. thank you to my womb sister @chaotic-mystery for beta'ing.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, divorced!dave, suburban murder daddy but make it festive, is this a holiday fic?, uhh..there's some bodily fluid usage in here for purposes, knife kink if ya squint, choking, restraints, blood tw, rough unprotected piv, fingering, oral (m &f receiving), one (1) pussy slap, pain kink off the charts, manipulation is the best form of flattery, omitting some tags for spoilers.

word count — 5.4k

Coffee and a chocolate croissant was not how he started a contract.

It was a strict five-step order. Observe, plan, attack, dispose, collect.

Never more, never less. He got in and dirtied his hands, washed away the evidence, and sent the proof to his employer, an unsteady but well-paying job. He was killing people after all.

High profile clients, exes, criminals, he stopped separating them after a while.

But goddammit, you’d charmed him.

Bewitched him. Body and soul.

Well, that and you caught him at a bad time.

The original plan was to grab his morning coffee and follow your path to work, find an opportunity and take care of business, leave. However, he’s thrown off when you’re already in line at the shop he picks, one out of the million lining the city streets.

It was you and him, a silent standoff amongst the low jingle of christmas music.

The cheery chorus of the Jingle Bell Rock drowning out his thoughts as he lines up behind you, hearing your coffee and breakfast order before the following words slip out, his ears perking:

“This is for mine—and his,” You nod blindly over your shoulder, “and pocket the rest as a tip.”

It was a fifty, his brow furrowing at the action as he begins to speak but is quickly interrupted by your name being called as your coffee was slid over the counter and you flee toward the cup, leaving he and the cashier in silence, who seemed more than delighted at the idea of extra money for the holidays.

He orders quietly, his voice subdued as he insists on paying for his own food, ignorant to your side gaze as you roll your eyes in annoyance and wait as he approaches with more silence, slipping his coffee into a cardboard sleeve as you grab for plastic silverware.

“Well, happy holidays to you,” You remark with a snide tone, laced and tied in a bow of kindness, “you’re a sweets guy?” Dave looks down at his croissant then, realizing they had handed him the wrong pastry, cursing under his breath.

He seemed frazzled, disrupted, but was masking it with annoyance and frustration.

“Fifty is a little generous, don’t you think?”

“It was a kind gesture,” You continue, “—Christmas around the corner and all.”

Dave sips gingerly at the coffee to taste, praying that it was the one thing they did get right, staring down at the chocolate croissant with disdain, but hunger on the rise.

He’s expecting you to leave already, having a rough idea of your schedule as you would normally head to work within the next—Dave glances at his watch casually—half hour, but instead, you sit.

Fuck—he casually busies himself as he pulls his phone from his pocket, scrolling mindlessly as the coffee shop fills and empties, eventually admitting something similar to defeat as he heads toward the door.

A man of constant routine and you’ve gone and fucked up his day, sitting casually as you picked at your own pastry, giving him a full once over, head to toe, as he heads toward the door—a suit that told a thousand words, and a man with nowhere to go, watching him carefully in the corner as he flitted through this phone.

Either he was being a creep or he was just shy.

And, for your sake, you hoped it was the latter.

“Sit with me,” You insist, his mouth opening immediately in rejection, but you smile and tilt your head to the side, pushing the opposite seat out with your heeled shoe, “hey—don’t act like you have anywhere to go, I just watched you stare at your phone for fifteen minutes.”

Your eyes land expectantly on the seat as Dave deliberates, eventually relenting as he sits. You were his task for the day, he didn’t have anywhere to go where you weren’t.

He doesn’t like this, he doesn’t like this feeling.

Things had derailed, but somehow, this seemed like it could help him, in the end.

You start with your name, introducing yourself. He offers the same, just a first name. Not a last. In your mind, you shrug. You could work with a first name.

“Well, Dave—are you going to eat that chocolate croissant?” You ask, watching the untouched pastry sit unwanted on the table, “Because if not, I will gladly—”

He pushes it aside, leaning back in his chair as he looks out the window, watching the troves of people pass on their way to work, kids running alongside their parents as they walk to school—a brief glimpse of what could still be, had Carol not been so greedy in the divorce.

He got the girls on weekends, every other week. It wasn’t ideal, but it was all he had. If he wanted to count, he had five more days until he saw their faces again. Often, it was the only thing holding him together. That, and routine.

Your voice disrupts his thoughts again, his eyes ripping up to your smiling face as you pull at the croissant and take a bite, “Holiday’s are fickle, aren’t they?”

Dave raises his brow in question. The fuck does that mean?

“Fickle—you know—”

“I know what that word means,” Dave interrupts, “What are you trying to say?”

Always on edge, this guy. You laugh softly, rubbing your tongue along your bottom lip.

“Some years it feels festive—like real Christmas, you know?” It was redundant, your finger circling the lid of your cup, “Other times it feels like something most people can’t wait to get it over with—like they’d rather be dead than celebrating.”

“That’s dark,” Dave remarks, “considering you were just attempting to spread some holiday cheer by paying for my breakfast–”

“Which you refused, scrooge,” Your eyebrow cocks in challenge, “Where do you work?”

Invasive? Definitely. But, with the suit—it seemed like a plausible question.

Dave lies through his teeth, despite his freeland work as a contract killer.

His job consisted of a name on a piece of paper and a promised dollar amount in his bank account after—no good or bad, it didn’t matter.

People were unlucky and unfortunate, he chose not to be.

If he was going to do the killing, he was damn well going to be compensated for it.

He didn’t know who wanted you dead, or why—but you’re grating, unjarring approachableness was throwing a wrench in his plans. If he wasn’t so careful he’d slide the knife through your throat here at the table, just to end this conversation.

You nod your head at his excuse for work, moving beyond a topic he clearly didn’t want to talk about, “Go on, your turn—or have you already read me like a book?”

Fine, he’ll bite. Though, he already knows what you’re going to say. He returns the question about work, mouthing the response in his head like a speech.

“I’m a librarian, a little further in the city, but I like the coffee here.”

The last part was a lie—you frequented one place nearly every day, why you decided to switch up today was unbeknownst to Dave, hence why he was sitting here engaging in such a grating, unproductive conversation.

You know you’re keeping him, he does too.

It slowly turns into a stare down, eating away at the croissant he’d passed over, waiting for him to admit defeat and run off, eventually, he does.

“As riveting as this conversation was,” Dave comments, “I’ve got work—it was nice…talking to you.”

The hesitance makes you smirk, subdued behind another kind smile as he leaves, watching his cautious walk back to his car, only a measured amount of time before he would see you again.

–

It has never taken this long. A week, maybe two. But, even that was pushing it.

His employer had contacted him twice for updates, more on edge as time passed and he can’t seem to avoid you, even as he tracks you from a distance, unaware of his looming presence, you seem to find him in the unlikeliest of places.

Next, it was a gas station—you don’t approach him there, but you offer that same kind smile.

Then, the grocery store, conversing with him over fruits like he was an old friend and Dave is only unsettled by the conversation after you leave, not realizing how easily you had vexed him until he’s got a handful of fruit in his cart alongside his weekly groceries.

It happens again. And once more. He liked difficult meals—intricate ingredients that were far beyond your skill level. The conversation was always a careful dance of politeness, but Dave softened with every conversation, as much as he could, at least.

You could spot a jaded man from miles away.

He doesn't understand why he can’t just kill you outright—easily detach from the situation and move on, but there was something to you that he couldn’t put his finger on. It was almost alluring, and it made him wonder. It made him curious.

Dave was never curious—he wasn’t paid to be.

He’s resigned to following through that Friday, though. The weekend before Christmas.

Fortunately, you seem to have the same late night craving for takeout—a quaint Chinese takeout place down the block from your apartment.

It had to be a coincidence, right?

“I swear,” You jest through a laugh as you stuff your hands into pockets of your puffer coat, “it feels like you’re stalking me.”

“Could say the same,” Dave retorts, a toothpick tucked between his teeth as he waits for his food.

You both wait quietly, exchanging the occasional glance before the tension snaps, curiosity getting the better of you and your enjoyment of making Dave squirm.

“Do you live far?” A careful, precise question. Dave answers it vaguely.

“A ways,” He says nonchalantly, “why?”

“Are you busy tonight?” Other than his obvious task of ordering dinner that he was undoubtedly going to eat in his car as he staked out your apartment, finding the willpower to finish the job.

“A little,” Always so concise, you roll your eyes lightheartedly.

“Come have dinner at my place,” You tell him, an open-invitation, an opportunity served up perfectly, eyeing the incoming weather outside with a high chance of a white Christmas, “—wait out the storm a bit?”

You weren’t pushing. It only took a little coaxing.

“Come on,” You tease, “are you scared of me?”

It’s a striking dichotomy he thinks, knowing he murders for a living.

There’s a ding at the front register as the owner slides over two bags of food tucked away in plastic and styrofoam, calling out the order numbers simultaneously as you both reach for them.

“I don’t bite,” You shrug, “—not really.”

You flash a triumphant smile as Dave admits defeat.

–

He said he’d meet you there.

You half-expected him to ditch you, but now he was sitting adjacent to you on the couch, chewing methodically at a piece of broccoli alongside the slow murmur of the television, under your curious gaze.

It’s ridiculous, a job that should have taken him a week—a few days, even—had prolonged itself to a month. The constant and vivid imaginative ways he would kill you plague him even now, wondering if strangling you against the couch would be enough to suffice.

No, that felt too personal.

He’d come back, he’d wait. He would do it while you were sleeping. Quiet, quick.

You strip off a layer of clothing as the heat from your apartment creeped up your neck, a generous amount of skin on display as you slung your sweater over the back of the couch, breasts pressing together as you place your takeout on the cushion separating you and Dave.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” You ask around a bite, stabbing your fork into your food.

Dave couldn’t make sense of your siren-like qualities, the intensity in your eyes with every glance his way, the ease at which you can seduce him into conversation. You were youthful, full of life, and for once in his career he’s found himself hesitating. Asking questions.

Why you?

“You ask a lot of questions,” Dave notes, a softer tone to his voice, almost as if he was finally warming up to you. There was a constant air of skepticism around you, rightfully so, but he seems to have let it slip, a misjudgment, “don’t you?”

You giggle softly at your impending question, “Are you a whiskey guy? You seem like a whiskey guy.” You’re off the couch quickly, heading toward your open kitchen to fetch an unopened bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, grabbing two glasses on the way back.

“I’ll be honest,” You start lightly, a melodic tone to your voice as you place the glasses on the table and pour a generous amount into both—normally Dave would excuse the offer, but with the bottle sealed and no reason to think otherwise, he drinks, “you make me nervous.”

Dave offers a quiet chortle of disbelief, your vixen-esque qualities supplying the opposite effect.

“I mean, the coincidence of us meeting at the coffee shop,” You begin, “and, sure, I did think that it was strange how often we’ve run into each other, but it almost feels like—”

“Don’t tell me you believe in fate,” Dave interjects, sipping at the rim of the glass.

“Well, how else do you explain that?” You ask, tucking your feet underneath you as you mirror his actions, food set aside. Dave finds himself watching the way your jeans hug your thighs and sit snug against your curves, following the path up your chest and the low cut top that pressed them together, caught red-handed as his eyes draw to yours.

“Sorry,” He quickly excuses, brow furrowing as he turns away in subtle embarrassment, burying his face into the glass of whiskey, “I’m—fate isn’t real. It’s just a coincidence, probably.”

Probably. Surely.

There’s a soft glint of suspicion in your eye, slowly maneuvering forward as Dave’s fist clenches against his slacks—always in a ridiculous fucking suit that you were now determined to get him out of. You’d kill for it, actually.

“Are you married?” You ask, resting your hand into your open palm as you prop it against the back of the couch, “That—that seems invasive…you don’t have to answer that. I just, if you are—she won’t be mad that you’re here, will she?”

Dave squints, not realizing he’s down the entire glass of whiskey until his next sip comes up empty. He sets the glass aside and answers truthfully, a breakthrough, you think.

“Divorced.”

“Ah,” You sigh, “such a tragedy.”

He wasn’t willing to dig into the details of his tumultuous relationship, regardless of how long it has been, nor was he oblivious to your actions, the finite movements that have pulled you closer and in turn, has centered his body toward you in a subconscious effort to make room.

He didn't often have female hits, but they weren’t non-existent. Dave was a man of constant self-control and restraint, aware of your growing proximity and the fact that his Smith and Wesson was tucked away carefully in the back of his coat, hidden from plain sight but all it would take is a touch—or the switchblade tucked away in his sock, easily concealable and unsuspecting.

He has two avenues—kill you now, deal with the mess.

Or, he allows it.

It—your obvious advancements, the slow but salacious blink of your eyes as his eyes drag toward your lips.

Your fingers wrap around the knot of his tie, pulling it gently, loosening it. His neck stretches to the side as your fingers claw up and around, dipping beyond his shirt collar in silence, despite the intense eye contact you held.

It was almost like you were challenging him. He feels it.

You get bold, rising on your knees as the other hand slips between the fabric of his coat and cream button-up and Dave counteracts the movement with a sudden adjustment, pulling the coat off smoothly and slipping it over the back of the couch as you climb into his lap, an evident smirk on your face as you press your ass against his thighs, your cunt pressed against the seam of his zipper and his cock, feeling the solid press of him there—men were all the same.

Dave’s body betrays him, his head tilting back as your fingers move through his hair and back down his freshly shaven face, pointer finger tracing the curve of his lips, a persistent and hardened expression on his face, void of emotion.

“If I asked you to fuck me, would you?” He feels the tug at his tie, your lips millimeters from his own as you stare down at him, “You like to fuck, don’t you?”

A hard distinction. Screw it, he thinks. Detachment, it was easier that way.

Dave nods, under your spell and the faint courage of whiskey.

–

He’s never allowed himself this deep into a job,

Undressing himself over you as you scramble naked onto the bed beneath him, ignoring how this wasn’t just a step, but a leap—a fucking mile over the boundaries he’s set within himself, but then you’re rising to lick up the underside of his cock where it glistened with precum, dripping down the side as it bops against your tongue, his hand wrapping into your hair as a warning.

Your eyes flutter shot as you nod, under his full control as you allow him to fuck himself into your mouth, his knees buckling as he knelt on the bed. His other hand comes up to curve against your chin, cradling your head as he nudged himself against the back of your throat until you were sputtering, drool leaking from your mouth as he pulled away for a brief moment.

Hesitation, you see it.

“Stay with me,” You plead, the words slurred against the shaft of his cock as you wrap your hand around the rest of him that wouldn’t fit, “don’t—don’t think. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Meaningless, more so than he can even imagine. A means to an end.

You could go about this differently—you didn’t always jump toward sex.

But, Dave was attractive. Unfairly attractive, strong features that left an impression on you and a flutter between your legs—he was hard to break down, but it wasn’t impossible.

Besides, you were breaking your own rules too.

And you were sure he'd bruised your throat by now, eyes tearing up as he held you there, nose brushing against his groin as he watched you—a mix of astonishment and resentment, laughing airly as he yanks you away.

“It feels good,” You assure him with a teary-eyed smile, “doesn’t it?”

You kiss along his upper thighs, leaning down to mouth against his balls, rolling the tight skin against your tongue, greedy for more as your fingers claw up his thighs, chest, until they’re wrapping around his broad shoulders and pulling him down and over you, the wide expanse of his palms squeezing at your hips, soft skin melding underneath his fingertips.

He buries his face into your chest, licking at your skin to taste, a mix of salt and sweet and something so intoxicating that he finds himself following through with this.

“Turn around,” He demands, “get on your knees.”

You turn swiftly, his hands following the path of your spine as his hand curls around the back of your skull and presses you firmly into the mattress, twisting his fingers around your bicep and pulling your arms behind your back, crossing, reaching for his discarded tie at his feet.

You panic at the inclination of being immobilized, but his voice is unsettling soothing.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Dave counters, “practically fucking begged for it.”

He huffs out a noise of displeasement, sliping the fabric around your wrist and tying it in place, hearing you snicker against the fabric as you peer up at him from your side glance.

“You can do better than that–,” You begin, but the tug is rough, gasping as it pulls your arms straight and tight against your back, “that’s—fuck—”

Your panic is quickly soothed by pleasure, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes it up, level with his mouth as he licks between your folds, admiring the slick that drips down the seam of your pussy, rubbing his thumb down to your clit as he circles it teasingly before pressing a finger inside of you, your gasp swallowed up by the sheets.

“Barely fuckin’ know me and you’re begging for it like that?” Dave teases, “C’mon, sweetheart.”

Pulling his fingers back to admire the creamy white ribbon that connected your body to his, rubbing his slick covered fingers over your pussy once more with a deafening slap.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” Dave informs, “but I’m going to fuck you like you asked, alright?”

He didn’t have to be nice, or considerate, even.

Besides, that pain swiftly drifted into gratification as he pushes the head of his cock between your folds before he’s pressing inside of you, a growl radiating from his chest as he sets a brutal pace, his thighs slapping against your skin loudly, fingers digging into your ass and destined to leave marks, cries of helpless delectation into your sheets.

And you could feel it, how badly he needed this too.

Eyes drifted close, the rhythmic pump of his hips, despite their intensity, is almost lulling. It never happened this way, a brief moment of disconnection as you allow your body to feel. It was never this good. Half-assed fucks from lackluster men who undoubtedly deserve what was coming for them—and it didn’t always happen like this, often it only took a sip of alcohol or an entrancing look their way, so easily entrapped in your web.

Dave, however, was a different beast entirely.

His movements stop after a while, face contorted in a mix of staves of desire and curiousness, pinching up at the spot above his nose and between his brows.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” You tell him, subtly adjusting your shoulders against the discomfort, but he doesn’t move, still staring over your shoulder, “Are you fucking d—”

“Beg for it,” He interjects.

You snort out a soft laugh and shake your head, but then he’s swiftly pulling out and wrapping his hand around the knot at your wrist and pulling you upright, leaving you completely in his hold as your back falls against his chest, dangling over the edge of the bed as he stood behind you, his opposite hand wrapping around your throat and pushing up, tilting your head upright to look at him.

You see the brief moment of hesitation in his gaze, thinking he could wrap his hands around your throat and do away with you now, but his lips part and his thumb presses against the side of your jaw, pulling a gasp from your throat, “Beg,” He seethes.

Then the pressure comes, a gentle squeeze that forces air out of your throat, stuttering out a quiet, “P-Pl—please,” His hand shakes against the pressure as your eyes roll back, “fuck—fuck me, please.”

He fists his cock and slides back inside of you with one fluid movement, helpless to his grip as keeps teetering on the edge of consciousness, his breathing increasingly more distressed as his hips begin to stutter in rhythm behind you.

He was getting off on the idea of your life in his hands like this—Dave could do it like this, even you know that. A man who craved power, this was no different.

You moan weakly against the hand on your throat, face contorting in a petulant way that catches his gaze as your eyes peek open, bottom lip quivering as his grip on the tie at your wrist pulls, a spark of pain shooting up your spine.

“H—hurts,” You admit to him, though it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, he seemed to have a soft spot in that deranged brain of his, for you, “s’tight, hurts so bad.”

Dave breathes harshly through his nose, debating, examining the sincerity on your features for a while, eyes fluttering closed as your mouth opens in a faint cry, before he finally relents.

You fall forward at the release, arms stretching over your head as you fall, the ache in your shoulders dissipating at the relief as you roll onto your back, his face slack as he follows your movements, cock sitting proudly against his stomach as you reach for his hand, a delicate pull as he follows your guide, a sated smile on your face.

“Like this,” Your voice is soothing, dragging a hand down his chest until you can wrap your hand around his cock, wordlessly he spreads himself above you as you guide the head of his cock through your arousal before he’s inside of you again, entranced as you examine his features.

He fucks you with the same intensity, but this is more personal. Your hands curl around his where they’re pressed into the mattress, legs interlocked over his hips as you breath into his mouth, exchanging a cacophony of noises and meaningless expletives before he’s pulling out without warning, large palm pressed against your thigh to keep your legs spread as he fists his cock, wrapped tight as he came against you stomach in thick spurts, the warmth pooling against your skin as his lips parted in a newfound relaxation.

You drag your finger through the fluid, swirling it against your fingertip as he watches your movement with careful eyes, pressing your finger against his chest as you dot once, twice, a small arch to create the illusion of a smiling face before you’re crossing through it lazily.

“You forgot about me,” You pout, dragging our finger up to his chin as he tilts it upwards before you’re pinching it between your grip, “what about me?”

He hadn’t, but you weren’t allowing him the leeway to argue.

Dave willingly allows the force of your movements, slowly dragging up his face and into his hair as he buries his mouth against your cunt, his tongue swirling against your clit with a careful precious as he stares you down, countered by your own gaze, propping yourself off the bed on your palm.

He licks into you, tongue dipping inside your stretched hole tasting of something sweet and entirely you, mixed with himself, an intoxicating flavor as his hands wrap around your thighs, nose burying against your sensitive clit as he growls, a reverberation that has you shaking under his grip before he’s tilting his head up to suck at bundle of nerves, nearly arching off the bed at the sensation as your orgasm hits you all at once, rather than a rolling wave.

His gaze doesn’t falter once, even as you fall slack against the bed.

He should do it now—guard down, defenses non-existent, but then you’re pulling him up and against your chest, maneuvering in a delicate dance until he’s cuddling you from behind, without a word of acknowledgment.

Eventually your breathing settles, wordless and calm. And despite the nagging voice in the back of his head, he finds himself succumbing to exhaustion too.

–

When he wakes, you’re still asleep.

The sun had set, casting the room in a faded blue, the blanket of snow outside casting a faint glow—he still had time, finish the job while you were sleeping, admit his colossal fuck-up and move on. He moves slowly, careful as he leans off the edge of the bed to grab for his knife buried away in his shoe.

“Where the fuck is it?” He mumbles to himself, nearly scrambling off the bed as he considers going for his gun, but the knife pressed into his throat has him on high alert, turning as the blade slices into his neck—just a knick, but he counters the movement, attempting to pin you underneath him.

“You’re awake,” You announce with a grin, face contorting in frustration until you can fit the knife at his ribs, fighting his grip until he’s settled underneath you, arms pinned under your knees, “so—no contingency plan? That’s a rookie move, even for you.”

“Who gave you my name?” Dave, blunt as always—he cuts right through the bullshit.

You frown slightly, hoping he’d play along for a moment.

“C’mon, Dave,” You jest, his breath catching as you apply pressure to the junction where you held the knife, one sudden movement and it would pierce his lung, “who do you think?”

“Who?” He bites, realizing his helplessness in the situation.

“The same person who gave you mine,” You answer after a long pause, tapping your finger against the center of his chest, “but—listen, I don’t have to kill you. I don’t.”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart,” Dave informs, not lost on you.

You make a sound of discontent, shrugging your shoulders.

“I have a proposition for you,” You chirp, “Well—more like an ultimatum. Because, if you don’t agree…I’ll just kill you right now, let you drown in your own blood as your lung collapses.”

Dave scowls, listening to you continue, “Can I trust you if I let you go?”

“No,” Dave answers quickly, whatever spell you’ve cast over him is now broken, the illusion gone, “Just do it, actually.”

It feels like a test—and you would, but you can’t.

He voices the same.

“You need me, don’t you?” He asks, genuinely curious.

Contingency plans, they were tricky.

“I hoped the sex would be enough to convince you.”

Dave smirks at that, surprisingly.

“You could have killed me already, but you haven’t,” You remind him, “I gave you plenty of chances and you didn’t—why?”

“The timing wasn’t–”

“You’re lying,” He feels the sting of an open wound as you slice the tip of the knife over his skin like a papercut, “Be honest with me—please?”

There’s an unnatural twitch to your head as it tilts, “Please?”

“I don’t know,” Dave answers with a sigh, “Guess I didn’t see you as much of a threat, that I could take my time.”

You raise your eyebrows as you breathe out a laugh, “I’m going to let you up,” You inform him, but slide the knife to his neck, “—under one condition.”

“I could just—”

“I have your gun,” You admit, “Emptied it—and there’s nothing in this apartment you can harm me with. It’s not even mine. And you can try to take this from me, or even kill me with your bare hands, but I think you’ve gone a little rusty, in my opinion.”

Dave offers a look of confusion.

“I really do admire your work, you know. All of us, in the network. We’ve heard about you—no one..no one knows who you are but, I just…had a feeling. Your work is clean, precise. You’re methodical.”

“And you’re fucking crazy,” He retorts, twisting his wrist in discomfort as you clamber off of him, knife outheld as he rises with you, “this method’ll get you killed, if that’s your style.”

“M’not dead, yet,” You shrug, “Besides, I don’t make a habit of…that.”

The sex, he knows that’s what you mean. He can’t say he does either.

“Somebody wants both of us dead,” You remind him, “doesn’t that concern you?”

You turn the knife in your grip and offer it to him, handle first.

“You’re a better tracker than me, I need that. And I’m a terrible fucking shot.”

Dave grins slightly at the compliment as he reaches for underwear, feeling unnaturally vulnerable as you stood toe to toe with him, rising up with a newfound curiosity.

“Open your mouth,” He directs, a glint of intrigue in his eyes, “stick your tongue out.”

Without a thought, you do. He grabs your chin, squeezing your jaw until your lips parted and your tongue slipped out, dragging the blade along the center of your tongue and leaving the thick, crimson liquid to bubble to the surface as he dragged it along the surface. You giggled softly to yourself as you lunge forward, teasing him with a lick that barely graces the surface of his lips.

He grips your neck, squeezing tightly.

“Obedience,” He warns, “If you want me to help you, I need it.”

You relent, swallowing against his grip as you nod.

“Let me hear it,” He grits through his teeth.

“Ye—yes,” You oblige, full-certainty, “Obedience, got it.”

He has a terrible feeling about it, but in an eerily comforting way, he trusted you.

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x y/n #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #my writing

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gi4hao · 9 months ago

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🗓️ ᡣ𐭩ྀི ˎˊ- anniversary dates with seventeenྀི

hyung line version! (scoups -> woozi)

had a really sunny weekend so please enjoy these sunshine-fueled scenarios!

— seungcheol

turns out your anniversary took place during a vacation together, a week-long holiday near the beach. on the d-day, he refuses to say anything about his plans, no matter how many times you ask, to the point where you end up blindfolded as he leads you to his surprise. when you take the blindfold off, the only thing you can see is a white boat awaiting on the shore. at first you’re scared he might have actually bought the boat, but he ‘only’ rented it for a private dinner. the sun has just started to set and you’re glad to have picked one of your cutest outfits because you just know he’s going to be taking as many pictures of you as he can. you might be admiring the sunset, but he'll be admiring you the whole time.

— jeonghan

he truly racked his brain to find the per-fect date idea. on the day, he keeps you guessing with more than vague hints (like “we talked about doing that one day” as if you didn’t talk about literally doing everything together). but he’s confident in his surprise and rightfully so: at first you think it’s just a regular picnic, which would have been fine on its own, but as more people start to gather around you, you realize that a lantern festival is actually taking place here tonight. together, you scribble your wishes and dreams for the future on your lantern. and you love how he’s not even trying to hide what he’s writing: one thing about jeonghan, he’ll never try to conceal anything about his feelings for you.

— joshua

this one has a proud smirk plastered on his face the entire morning, hinting at a surprise. you get in his car around 9am and drive for about twenty minutes until he stops in front of a fancy looking building. “you know how we always talk about moving to a bigger apartment yet never actually visit anything? well i figured today would be the day…”, he tells you excitedly. and it’s only when the realtor meets you on the street that you realize joshua has actually booked a visit. more than one, in fact: throughout the day, you visit four apartments, walking from one to the other hand in hand, already fantasizing about what life is going to look like for the two of you.

— jun

both having a busy schedule, you recently told jun you missed having a proper dinner together and it’s given him the best idea for your anniversary: a nice dinner together without the practical difficulties of going to a fancy restaurant. when you come back home that evening, you find your place tastefully decorated with various candles, flowers and fairy lights. as for jun, he’s done his hair the way you like it best, dressed in an outfit you love, wearing the same perfume from when you first started dating. with a sheepish smile, he guides you to the balcony where the table is set, revealing the stunning city view from your apartment.

— hoshi

his plan for today is to make you feel as loved as ever, and that requires day-long dedication, starting with mandatory prince.ss treatment all morning. around 11, he tells you it’s “time to go” although you still have no idea what he’s talking about. but a 45 minutes drive later, you can make out the blueish color of the sea in the horizon. with him by your side, you know it won’t be just any beach day: picnic on the sand, a long walk along the shore spent saying “look, it’s us!” when you see two relatively close rocks, and most of all, soaking up the sun together in the water, all while being that clingy couple who cannot stop swooning over each other.

— wonwoo

this morning, wonwoo wakes up particularly early to cook breakfast for the both of you. you’re already awake by the time he’s done, but he looks so adorable trying to balance the tray while opening the door with his foot that you pretend like you’re still asleep. later, he surprises you with a gift which looks… a bit odd. you didn’t really expect a QR code. but you scan it anyways, and then everything starts to make sense: the QR code brings you to a website, a shelter website more specifically. “are we…”, you start, a huge smile already on your lips. “going on a shelter date to get a cat? absolutely”, he replies, glad you’re enjoying his surprise as much as he hoped.

— woozi

to him, this is the perfect day to show how much your relationship means to him, because he fears you might not know it well enough (you do). so he’s got a little something prepared… the first part of his plan is to fake an apology: “i’m really sorry, i completely forgot…”. second part is to say he’ll take you to movies another day, which you accept, still half-upset. and finally, last part is to welcome you home on the d-day, takeout ready on the table but most importantly, with a homemade outdoor cinema right in your backyard. thick mattresses, fluffy pillows and a large white screen facing a brand-new projector, he went all out to make sure you feel as cherished as he always does.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

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nep-neptune-0 · 3 months ago

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5 AM

Xiangli Yao x Reader

Summary: You always had a habit of staying overnight at Huaxu Academy, tinkering away at your latest project; Xiangli Yao had a habit of visiting you for new ideas at the crack of dawn.

Content: fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: immediately downloaded the game after seeing an edit of him, got him through the Moon-Chasing Festival event and now I'm writing fanfic for him, sorry if I didn't portray him correctly!! I'm new to the game lmao

A few quick knocks pulled you out of your flow. What was the time? You threw a quick glance at your clock, almost 5 a.m.. That marked the 3rd night you had spent in the workshop, tinkering on your new creation. You slid your safety goggles up to your hairline, trying to blink away the blur that had settled over your vision. You really should start using the ceiling lamp along with your workbench lamp, otherwise you’d risk deteriorating your vision.

Another sequence of knocks made you scramble up from the saddle stool, reminding you why you stopped your project in the first place. You were at the other side of the room at lightning speed. Your workshop was small, only enough to fit one relatively big table in the middle with a smaller one rammed up at the corner, decked out with tools and machines from your personal collection. The academy was generous enough to lend you various equipment, one of them being a large robotic arm with different functions that was attached to the bigger table, but you didn’t dare to use it unless it was for “serious work” as you liked to call it.

The door wailed when you pulled it open. You really should oil it like how Xiangli Yao had suggested–

“Hello.”

Oh.

Speak of the devil. It was always around this time he clocked into work. It was also around this time he visited your workshop, never failing to bring you breakfast, knowing you were more often than not neglecting your needs in pursuit of finishing your latest project.

Xiangli Yao had crashed into your life just as violently as your prototype had when it hit an unsuspected Spearback. You didn’t think anyone would catch you in the midst of your experiments, since you made sure to do it in the dead of night far, far away from the city. But he had, and he was kind enough to escort you back to the academy, buying you breakfast before that. He had asked you about your creations, and without really thinking you started talking about your passion for battle focused tools and gushed over previous projects like they were your children. Afterwards, you had thought it was the first and last time you would have any kind of interaction with the Principal Investigator, but before you knew it, he was outside your workshop, asking you if you were down to discuss ideas for the next modification on his prosthetic arm.

If you had thought a bit further, you probably would have questioned why he went to you specifically, a rookie, when there were an abundance of talented engineers and mechanics alike who could bring his ideas to life much more efficiently and with better quality. But you were too wrapped up in the excitement of creating something new you had ushered him inside, grabbing the only available chair that wasn’t on its last legs for him to sit on while you grabbed your notebook, eyes gleaming.

The added mod had been a success after shedding blood, sweat, and tears day and night. You got to witness it with your own eyes when he asked you to head out with him at the first sign of light. The sunlight had painted him golden, and suddenly you weren’t as focused on his prosthetic as much. His movements had you entranced, not even daring to breathe in case it would disturb the vision in front of you. And that damn smile he directed towards you after defeating the enemy fully stole your breath away. Xiangli Yao was an unfair man.

As thanks, he had gifted you a saddle stool made of leather for your posture (though you still hunched over the desk like a shrimp) and for the fact your previous chair was merely a wooden one that would disintegrate at any given moment. You thought that would be it, but of course he defied your expectations and showed up a few weeks later, breakfast in hand with another idea. From then on he seemed to be keen on consulting you about potential modifications, ranging from battle focused ones to the more silly ones, like his ice maker that you had the honor to partake in creating. And before you knew it, he started spending some rare days in your workshop instead of his office, typing away and doing what scholars do while you were working on all different kinds of projects.

You had to admit you had developed a soft spot for the Principal Investigator during the times you spent together. You could never pinpoint when his visits started feeling like a part of your routine, or when you started looking forward to those moments. And somewhere along the way, you stayed behind just to catch him before you headed home, something you’d never admit to anyone or anything.

“I saw your light was on, so I thought to swing by before going to my office. I bought some Huanglong omelets–” he handed you a paper bag “–I also have an idea for a modification we could add to my prosthetic.”

That spurred you to pull out papers and different colors of pens, spreading them out on the bigger table before turning the ceiling lamp on. He had already started sketching before you even got an omelet in your mouth.

You seated yourself on your chair and rolled to the other side of the table, eyes tracking every swipe of his hand to see the idea bloom on paper. His newest idea was battle oriented. Specifically some kind of tool that could give him the opportunity to snare and damage multiple opponents at once. You weren’t sure what went on in his head for such brilliant ideas to form, but you thanked the dragons out there for letting you witness it so intimately.

As he was sketching, he described his thought process, pausing sometimes to glance up at you for feedback, but you were busy stuffing your cheeks with omelet, barely able to sound out coherent sentences.

Before long you had finished your breakfast, energized and ready to give some ideas yourself. You bounced ideas between each other.

“For this,” Xiangli Yao circled one of his scribbles, “we can add a tool akin to a black hole that will detonate on the enemy I defeated, gathering the rest of them in one place while I’m charging up for an attack. I have an idea on what material we can use…”

You were absolutely starstruck.

“Xiangli Yao, the man you are.” You climbed on the table, crawling a short distance to get closer to him before rising to your knees and cupping his face in your hands, slightly shaking his head back and forth. “I’m sure you’ve heard this more than enough– but you are a genius.”

A faint hue of pink dusted over his cheeks, and it was only then you realized how close you were to him.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Sorry I got carried away–”

Your panic was interrupted by the chill of his metal hand settling over yours. He looked up at you with such puppy eyes that were swirling with an indescribable emotion you wondered how you never noticed.

Before you knew it, his other hand settled on the back of your head, and you were pulled down.

His lips were soft.

The sheer gentleness he treated you with sent electricity crackling in your veins. Your eyes fell shut and you could hear your heart beating in your ears. Your free hand slid down to the back of his neck, fingertips lightly brushing against the hair before it found a place on his shoulder, and you didn’t miss the way he quivered under your touch.

Xiangli Yao parted with a sigh, eyes fluttering open to unabashedly stare at your face. He intertwined your hands, cool metal palm against the back of your warm hand, and raised it to his lips. Then he pecked your cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, before finally giving you another delicate kiss on your lips.

“Can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner,” he murmured when he pulled away. You exhaled a laugh.

“I can’t believe it either– oh shit!” You quickly clambered off the table with his help. “I hope I didn’t ruin any of the sketches…”

“Even if you did, we can just remake them,” he declared nonchalantly. “Honestly, I would gladly let you ruin my research papers if I get to take you out on a date.”

“You don’t mean that!” you gasped. “You can do that without ruining your work.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t planning on it, don't worry. I’m gonna head to my office now. Just give me a call if you have any other ideas.”

“Will do, will do.”

“I’ll come pick you up at 6 pm today.” He gave you a quick kiss before making his way to the door. “See you then.”

You were left a blushing mess in your workshop, now a new project and a date in your hands.

Xiangli Yao was truly an unfair man.

#wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuwa x you #wuwa xiangli yao #wuthering waves xiangli yao #xiangli yao #xiangli yao x reader #xiangli yao x you

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adelheidvonschicksal · 2 months ago

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Winter Time with Xavier Head Canons

Note: I know the winter holidays are still a few weeks away, but as a winter girl I’m too excited to wait.

When it gets cold he sleeps in even more than usual.

Xavier sleeps more than any average human can, but it gets twice as bad in the winter. It’s like having a hibernating bear or, in this case, a bunny at home most of the time, as he snuggles in his special warm weighted blanket that he pulls out as soon as the first snowflakes fall outside.

You have little hope in waking him up during the cold mornings, not even for breakfast, and he gets extra clingy to you, slyly convincing you to lay back down just for a few more minutes. After all, aren’t you cold? Don’t you like the new blanket? Why not cuddle with him more?

It’s hard to argue with him, especially when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, gently cuddling against your shoulder until you admit it might be a good idea to warm up a little longer.

People watching becomes even more of a pastime.

Xavier has been a people watcher since the day you met him. He didn’t join festivities much but that never stopped him from taking in the sight of humanity around him, joyfully going through their day and making plans for the holidays.

You learn quickly to match his pace, taking more interest in the world around you as you go about your daily errands hand in hand. He thinks it’s the cutest when you always stop at the sight of some holiday knick-knack or join in on building snowmen. He insists on stopping and joining in. Or, he wants to suddenly go into the store and look around. Or, maybe stop and take pictures in front of the fountain or a cute display.

“There’s still time to finish our errands; it won’t hurt to take a detour.”

If you agree, you return home much later than you thought, barely most of your errands complete and with way more items than Xavier thought you would find. He regrets it a little because his arms get sore carrying all your purchases.

If you disagree, you’ll find the cute fuzzy ornament you spotted in the store window earlier perched happily on your dresser.

Matching clothes and hot chocolate.

Nothing is better for the two of you than a relaxing day at home. You spend many days relaxing on the couch, watching the latest holiday romances and off-season horror movies.

Your evening is always complimented by snacks and a mug of hot chocolate decorated with marshmallows and cream, sticky syrup, and whatever other concoction the two of you could make up in the kitchen that will undoubtedly leave you regretting your decisions when you’re too hyped up to sleep (which means Xavier can’t sleep either unless you end up poking his face and waking him up all night).

The cold air seeping in from the windows and balcony is fended off by the matching pair of fuzzy socks on your feet.

Warm soups and hot pots.

Winter brings the excuse to eat more, specifically fresh hot food and hot pot. You can constantly find your lover sampling the treats and seasonal food that the holidays bring, always sharing baked sweet potatoes and coffee with you from pumpkin to peppermint mocha and gingerbread.

He gets the urge to bake things himself, so the kitchen becomes a war zone, but you both manage to make something you can share.

Festival Time

You take the time to celebrate the holidays with him, starting with cleaning the house long before winter begins. You bring the plants inside and buy/knit something cozy for your feathered friends on the balcony to rest in for the winter.

You make dumplings to celebrate and during that time you discover that the denizens of Philos still celebrate the holiday, with the added feature of adding star-shaped lights for their ancestors. It takes no time to set up fairy lights throughout the house after that.

The final trip is enjoying Christmas. The two of you go out on a cozy date before going through the market that usually pops up on the road back to the apartment complex.

You make one final trip through the festivities to visit the shrine and place your wishes for next year. You don’t have anything you want other than being able to spend another year with Xavier and welcome Spring together.

#xavier x reader #xavier love and deepspace #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lnd x reader #xavier fluff

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wynnyfryd · 1 year ago

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Trailer park Steve AU part 33

part 1 | part 32 | ao3

Chapter 8

cw: period-typical attitudes/language

"Steve," Robin hisses through the phone, and he can practically hear her nostrils flaring. "I have been trapped at Uncle Bobby and Aunt Deb's house for six. days." She drops her voice to a harsh whisper, the tone somehow even more disapproving at a lower volume. "HOW have you not kissed him yet??"

"It's not like I didn't try!" Steve throws his hands up; nearly knocks his broom to the floor. He's finally sweeping up the shards of glass in the living room, because he's tired of wearing shoes in his own house (and because at some point he's going to have to have the kids over whether he wants to or not. He's kind of surprised Erica hasn't shown up demanding to hang Christmas lights yet; that girl is aggressively festive.) "He was all 'ask me in the morning,' so I was gonna ask him in the morning! Not my fault it was Monday morning and his stupid uncle barged in yelling about how he was going to be late for school."

"You really shouldn't call him stupid," she interrupts, "that man is a saint."

"No, you’re right. Wayne's awesome."

It’s true. Wayne walked in on them that morning, like, fully spooning in their sleep — Eddie pressed all along Steve's back with an arm over his waist, their ankles intertwined — and rather than beat Steve's ass and ban him from their house like Steve expected him to, he just awkwardly grunted 'breakfast is ready' and shut the door.

"I'm always right," Robin gloats in his ear.

"You're always the worst."

"You love me." Steve hears shuffling as she adjusts the cord — probably wiggling around to lie on her stomach on the bed and kick her feet up in the air the way she likes — and then she says, "I'm still not seeing how this explains the other five whole days, though."

Jesus. Five whole days. Like she's his unimpressed boss and he’s late with the quarterly reports. "Our schedules kept not lining up! And then he went out of town with Jeff's family for the holiday."

"And you haven't called him?"

Steve glares flatly at the phone; hopes she can feel it through the line. "Literally how would I do that, Robin?"

"Well— I don't know! Maybe..." She hums in thought then snaps her fingers, talking fast. "Ooh! You could ask Wayne for the number? I mean, he'd have to know it in case he needed to reach Eddie, right?"

"Uh huh." Steve loves her solution-oriented brain, he really does, but that's one of the worst ideas he's heard in a while. (And he's including Mike and Dustin's attempted kidnapping last month.) "Yeah, let me get right on that," he snarks, switching the phone to his other ear. "I’ll just call them up and say, 'Hey, Mr. or Mrs. Jeff's Grandparents! This is Steve Harrington, may I—? Oh. Who's Steve Harrington, you ask? Nobody, sir or ma’am, just the kid who stood by and watched while his teammates gave your grandson a swirlie two years ago, so I'm sure he fucking hates me still for that! Anyway, can I please flirt with your house guest now?'"

Robin's whinnying into the receiver by the time Steve finishes his rant, and he begrudgingly laughs along with her, shaking his head as he stoops to pick up the dust pan.

"Okay," she concedes. "You may have a point."

"Thank you."

"But you still have to do something to make up for this when he gets home! Otherwise, he's going to think you're, like, having a straight boy crisis or something and get all weird."

"I'm not having a 'straight boy crisis,'" Steve rolls his eyes. He's having a bisexual boy crisis — at least, according to the three hour phone call he had with Robin the other night (which was humiliating, by the way; he never thought he'd be quietly crying tears of total confusion while saying the words 'I still likes boobies, though' out loud. Jesus Christ. Sexuality is embarrassing.) "And I already have a grand gesture in mind, anyway."

"Oh?" Robin perks up. "Do tell."

"I was thinking we could, like..." Hmm. It's sounding less grand when he goes to say it out loud. "Well, shit, I don't know. I thought we could go to one of his shows together when you get back, but now that sounds kind of lame?"

“No, that's good! That's perfect, actually. We can get a whole group together to go support him, then he'll see that you're not embarrassed to be seen around him with your friends."

"Wait, was that a concern?" Oh, god. He dumps more glass into the trash can; hisses when a little shard gets his fingertip; sucks the wound into his mouth. "Are you sure it’s not-? I mean, I want him to know I mean it in a romantic way, not just a friendly gesture."

"Well, yeah, obviously. But you can't just go by yourself; his bandmates hate you."

Oh, right. “Yeah.” That would be pretty awkward to loiter in a booth by himself all night while Jeff and Gareth and the other kid glare daggers at him. "Do you think you could get a group together? If I do it…"

"…We'll be hanging out with a group of dorky freshman all night?”

"Rude."

"Accurate."

"You know what? Tell Deb and Bobby they can keep you."

"Ah!" Robin gasps. "You would turn to stone like a troll in the sun without me, and you know it!"

Man, he misses her. "Yeah, I know it." He puts the broom back up on the hook. "When ya comin' home?"

"Soon, I hope. I swear to god if I have to hear Deb and Patty fight over the leftovers one more time—!" She cuts herself off with a strangled noise, and Steve laughs at her plight. "Anyway, yes. I'll ask some friends at school—"

"—Is one of those friends Vickie?"

“I can multi-task; shut up."

"I love you," he smiles.

"Love you, too, dingus.” Her voice dips soft and sincere for just a second; there and gone. “Hey, I have to go, Carrie wants the phone.”

“You have too many relatives.”

“Ugh, I know. Okay. Leaving for real now; can't wait to see you for Operation Woo Your Man!”

"Robin, no-!”

“Got to go byeeeee.”

“We’re not calling it that!” He holds the phone out with both hands so he can yell into the receiver. “Robin? Robin!"

The line's already dead.

—

part 34

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic

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whereforarthur · 4 months ago

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Wedding Day Bliss~

Request: I had this idea if a wedding day. Like the whole wedding day leading up to the end of the night. Like the saying their vows and it being really emotional and George tearing up when she is walking down the aisle and the reception and all their friends and family watching them be so in love. Also their first dance as husband and wife I think would be so cute then sharing kisses and just being in their own bubble with George’s friends making speeches.

Pairing: George Clarkey x reader

Rating: PG-13

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

*****

"The best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly who you are: good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. The right person is still going to think the sun shines out of your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with." —Juno

"You okay, mate?" Arthur's voice cut through the early morning chill as George stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hand hovered over the shaving cream, his eyes bloodshot from last night's festivities.

"Yeah, just trying to remember what year it is," George joked, rubbing his hand over his unshaven face. The wedding was in a few hours, and the nerves were starting to set in. He had never felt so alive, so ready to embark on a new chapter with the love of his life. Yet, the gravity of the promise he was about to make weighed on him like the hangover he was pretending not to have.

The house was buzzing with activity, the air thick with excitement and anticipation. The smell of fresh flowers wafted in from the open windows, mingling with the faint scent of his mother's famous breakfast spread. He could hear the distant chatter of the bridesmaids, the occasional burst of laughter, and the clinking of champagne flutes as they toasted to the soon-to-be newlyweds. George took a deep breath and turned to face the day ahead.

When she reached him, George's hand trembled slightly as he took hers. The priest's words were a gentle hum in the background as they exchanged vows, their eyes never leaving each other's.

"Y/N," George began, his voice clear and steady despite the tumult of emotions churning within him. "Thank you for loving me, for understanding me, and for putting up with my friends. They're a wild bunch, but they're mine, and you've welcomed them into your heart without question." He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought of the countless nights spent cleaning up after their drunken escapades. "I promise to stand by you, to cherish you, and to laugh with you, even when they're singing off-key karaoke at three in the morning."

Each word felt like a promise etched into their very souls, a declaration that no matter what life threw at them, they would face it together. And as he slipped the ring onto her finger, he knew that he had made the right choice.

The congregation chuckled softly, and George felt a warmth spread through him. He took a deep breath and continued, "I vow to support you in your dreams, even if it means watching every cooking show on Netflix with you." He winked, remembering her passion for culinary mastery, which often resulted in kitchen disasters that only she found amusing. "To be your partner, your confidant, and your rock, as you are mine."

"And now," the priest announced, turning to Y/N, "it is your turn to speak your vows." She took a deep breath, her hand tightening around George's. Her voice was steady and sure as she began, "George, my love, from the moment I met you, I knew you were different. Your kindness, your humor, your unwavering loyalty—these are the traits that have made me fall in love with you over and over again."

The room grew still, captivated by her every word. "I promise to be your home, a place where you can always find comfort and peace. I vow to stand by your side, through every challenge and every victory, holding your hand through it all. I will laugh with you, cry with you, and maybe even dance with you when you're feeling particularly courageous."

Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, and George felt his cheeks warm at the thought of their many dance floor disasters. She went on, "I will cherish every moment we share, from the mundane to the magnificent, because each one is a gift that I never knew I needed until you gave it to me. I will love you fiercely, George, because you have shown me what it means to truly be loved."

The room was silent as the gravity of her words settled over the guests. The emotion in her voice was palpable, and George felt his heart swell with love for this incredible woman. He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life making her as happy as she made him.

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest announced, breaking the spell. George leaned in, his heart racing, and kissed her softly. It was a kiss that spoke of their future together, a gentle promise of love and protection. The congregation erupted in applause and cheers, and the organist began to play the wedding march.

They walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, smiling at their friends and family. The warmth of their union seemed to radiate outwards, wrapping everyone in a blanket of joy. The light from the stained glass windows painted them in a rainbow of colors, as if the very walls of the church were celebrating with them.

*****

The reception was held in the manor's lush gardens, under a grand marquee that had been set up especially for the occasion. The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses and the sound of laughter. The guests were already mingling, eager to congratulate the newlyweds. As they stepped outside, George and Y/N were greeted by a shower of confetti, thrown by their exuberant friends and relatives. It was like stepping into a whirlwind of love and good wishes.

Throughout the evening, George couldn't help but steal glances at his bride, her smile never fading, her eyes always sparkling. They danced, they talked, they laughed, and with every shared moment, he felt his heart swell with love. The speeches from his friends were equal parts embarrassing and endearing, each one reminding him of the incredible journey that had led them here.

But it was Arthur's speech that truly stole the show. He took the microphone with a grin that was a mix of mischief and affection, his eyes twinkling as he began to recount their escapades from over the years. The room grew quieter, anticipating the tales that were about to unfold.

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends," Arthur started, his voice carrying over the clinking of silverware and the gentle hum of conversation. "I stand before you today, not just as George's best man, but as his confidant, his wingman, and occasionally his designated driver." The crowd chuckled, setting the tone for the heartfelt roast that was to come.

"Now, I've known George for what feels like an eternity," Arthur continued, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "We've been through it all—the good, the bad, and the questionably legal. And through it all, he's remained the same lovable, slightly disaster-prone man we all know and love."

The crowd chuckled, and George felt a warmth spread through him as Arthur winked at him. "But today, we're not just celebrating George and Y/N's love story," he said, his tone growing serious. "We're also saying goodbye to the bachelor days, the nights out that ended with pizza on the floor and George's head in the toilet." A collective groan echoed through the room, followed by laughter. "And Y/N, let me just say, you're a brave soul for taking him on. You're not just gaining a husband; you're inheriting a lifetime subscription to 'What the hell was I thinking?' magazine."

Arthur raised his glass, and the room fell silent. "But in all seriousness, George, I couldn't be happier for you. You've found someone who not only puts up with your terrible taste in music and your obsession with superheroes but also makes you a better man. And Y/N, you're not just stealing him from us; you're giving us back a George we haven't seen in a long time—one who's more at peace, more content, and dare I say it, more responsible."

The room erupted in laughter, and George couldn't help but feel a twinge of truth in Arthur's words. Y/N had indeed changed him for the better, bringing order to the chaos that was his life and filling his days with a warmth he hadn't realized he was missing. He looked over at her, her cheeks flushed with a blush that made her look even more radiant, and knew that every second of this new journey with her would be worth it.

As Arthur wrapped up his speech, the DJ took over. The air was electric with joy, and George found himself drawn to Y/N, ready for their first dance as husband and wife. The first dance was a slow, sweet melody that had been playing on the radio the first time they had kissed. As George held her in his arms, their bodies moving in perfect sync, he whispered into her ear, "Thank you for choosing me." Her eyes searched his, filled with a love so deep it seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. "I've always chosen you," she murmured back, her voice filled with a gentle certainty that washed over him like a warm summer rain.

*****

The evening passed in a blur of shared glances, whispered promises, and stolen kisses. The air was electric with love and happiness, and every moment felt like a precious memory in the making. As the night grew darker, the stars began to twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, echoing the sparkle in their eyes.

Their friends and family watched with smiles, some with misty eyes, as the couple moved in perfect harmony. The lyrics of the song spoke of a love that had withstood the test of time, a promise of forever, and George felt it resonate deep within him. He whispered sweet nothings into Y/N's ear, her cheek pressed against his chest, and she giggled, her happiness infectious.

He couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was to have her, to call her his wife. Every few seconds, he'd lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her lips—any part of her he could reach without breaking the rhythm of their dance. Her eyes would flutter closed with each touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and he knew she felt the same overwhelming love that he did.

A silent conversation of love and adoration that didn't need words to convey the depth of their feelings. The music swelled around them, a cocoon of sound that blocked out the world and left only the two of them, spinning and swaying to the beat of their hearts. The warmth of her body against his was a reassurance that she was real, that this wasn't just some beautiful dream he would wake up from.

From the sidelines, George's friends couldn't help but tease him. They had never seen him so lost in a moment, so utterly consumed by happiness. "Look at him," Chris murmured to Arthur Hill, his own partner in crime at past escapades. "He's gone soft."

Arthur Hill chuckled, raising his glass. "It's about time," he said, a hint of sentimentality in his voice. "He's been chasing that love bug for years. It's good to see him finally catch it."

Their banter grew louder, a playful jab here and there, but the affection behind their words was unmistakable. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day when George Clarkey would be this whipped," Arthur quipped, earning a playful glare from George.

Chris, Max, Arthur, and Arthur Hill had been the life of the party, charming the guests with their wit and camaraderie. They had been an integral part of George's life for years, and seeing them interact with Y/N and her friends was a delightful reminder of how intertwined their worlds had become. Their banter was light-hearted, their laughter infectious, and their love for the couple palpable.

As the night grew later and the music grew softer, the four friends—now bonded by more than just friendship—gathered around George and Y/N, raising their glasses in a toast. "To new beginnings," Arthur said, his voice a blend of joviality and sincerity. "May your love be as wild and unpredictable as our adventures, yet as steadfast as the foundation of this ancient city we call home."

Chris leaned in, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And may you never run out of patience for each other," he added with a knowing smile, "because with us around, you're going to need it." The group erupted in laughter, the tension of the day giving way to the easy camaraderie that had carried them through so much.

"To Y/N," Max said, raising his glass higher, "for saving us from ever having to listen to George's dreadful dating stories again." The room buzzed with knowing chuckles, and George couldn't help but laugh along. The group's laughter grew as they reminisced about his infamous Hinge dates—stories of catfishing, awkward silences, and that one girl who had stood him up a record eight times.

Y/N leaned into George, her eyes shining with mirth. "But I'm the one who finally caught you," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress against his ear. "And I'm so happy I could be the one to save you from a life of swiping and ghosting."

Their friends' laughter grew, but George's gaze never left hers. "You didn't just save me," he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You gave me a reason to stop looking." He placed a tender kiss on her cheek, the warmth of his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

As the music played on, George watched his wife dance with her father, her smile never fading, her eyes shimmering with happiness. The moment was so perfect it hurt. He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder and turned to see Arthur, a solemn look on his face. "You know, George," Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper, "you're the luckiest man here."

George nodded, the weight of Arthur's words sinking in. "I know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I never thought I'd find someone who could handle all of this—me, us, the fans, the chaos. But she does. She's my sanity in a world gone mad."

*****

The night grew later, the music slower, and the room more intimate. The air was thick with the scent of happiness and the warmth of a love that had conquered all. As the final notes of their first dance played out, George leaned in to kiss his wife, the sweetness of their union echoing in the silence that followed. Their friends and family cheered, but the couple remained lost in their own little world, oblivious to the applause.

The reception wound down, and the photographer captured their love in a series of candid shots, the flashes of the camera a stark contrast to the soft glow of the candlelit room. They mingled with their guests, thanking them for their presence, sharing laughs, and receiving well-wishes that felt like warm embraces. Each moment was a treasure, a memory to hold onto forever.

The rest of the night passed in a whirlwind of dance, laughter, and love. Each moment with Y/N felt like a gift, a precious memory to be stored away and cherished for the rest of their lives. They shared dances with their parents, the joy in their faces reflecting the happiness of their children. They watched as their friends paired off, spinning and laughing, the music weaving a tapestry of memories that would bind them all together for years to come.

Y/N leaned into George, her arms wrapped around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for choosing me, for loving me, for saving me too."

George pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "Saving you?" He cocked his head, a question in his eyes.

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. "From a life of questionable life choices and questionable haircuts," she teased, her thumb gently tracing the line of his freshly trimmed hair. "But mostly, from the loneliness that comes from not knowing your soulmate is out there waiting for you."

George's heart swelled with gratitude, his eyes never leaving hers. "You've done more than that," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "You've made me whole, Y/N. You've given me a purpose, a reason to wake up every morning with a smile."

Their friends had cleared the dance floor, giving them space to continue their intimate moment. The soft glow of the fairy lights above them cast a warm, romantic hue over the two of them, as if the universe itself was bending to highlight their love. Y/N's hand found its way to his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped his eye. "And you've done the same for me," she murmured. "You've shown me that love isn't just a word in a book or a scene in a movie. It's real, it's messy, and it's beautiful."

Her words hit him like a tidal wave, the depth of her feelings resonating through his very being. He leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth of her skin, the gentle beat of her heart. "I never knew I could love someone like this," he confessed, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the night. "But here we are, and I can't imagine a single day without you by my side."

*****

The moon had risen high in the sky by the time the party began to wind down. The guests slowly started to say their goodbyes, each one offering congratulations and well wishes for a long and happy life together. As the last of the cars pulled away, George and Y/N stood on the porch, hand in hand, watching the taillights fade into the distance. The cool evening breeze danced around them, carrying with it the promise of a future filled with love and adventure.

Turning to face him, Y/N looked up into George's eyes, her own sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Ready for our grand finale?" she asked, a playful smile playing on her lips.

George raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Grand finale?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, her smile growing wider. "The part where we finally get to be alone."

"Alone?" George echoed, feigning innocence. "What could possibly happen when we're alone?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, I'm sure we can think of something," she teased, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper.

The banter between them was light, a playful dance of words that had become a hallmark of their relationship. George's cheeks flushed slightly, the humor in his eyes betraying his excitement. "First time as husband and wife, you mean," he clarified with a grin, squeezing her hand.

"Ah, yes," Y/N giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But you know what they say, practice makes perfect."

Without a moment's hesitation, George bent down, wrapping one arm under her knees and the other around her waist, and scooped her up into his arms. She squealed with delight, her gown fluttering around them as he spun her in a circle. "Let's get to it then, Mrs. Clarkey," he said, his grin growing wider with each passing second.

Her laughter was like music to his ears, a sweet symphony that had played on repeat in his mind since the moment they first met. "I can't wait," she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The night was still young, and the possibilities stretched out before them like a never-ending horizon.

Carrying her over the threshold, George felt his heart swell with a love so profound, it was almost painful. This was it—the start of their forever, a journey they would navigate together, hand in hand.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, the sound echoing through the now empty house. The quiet was a stark contrast to the buzz of the wedding, but it was a welcome one. The world outside could wait—this moment was theirs, and theirs alone.

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