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warping-realities · 2 months ago

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Animal I Have Become

Alright, I promised I wouldn’t write any more. But this one’s short and I cranked it out in less than two hours. The inspiration is obvious for anyone who’s a fan of "Karate Kid"/"Cobra Kai," since I just finished the first part of the last season. And for those worried about my studies, don’t sweat it—I was on my work shift, which I never use to study because it seems to attract all kinds of chaos. Anyway! If any quick ideas pop up, I’ll post them, but no more long stories packed with plots for a while.

I only agreed to go back to the place of my humiliation for one reason: Mikey was my best friend throughout high school until he decided, right in our senior year, to join the karate team of the new P.E. assistant teacher. Then, like magic, the skinny kid with a sharp sense of humor who could discuss everything from experimental physics to pre-Columbian American history, the guy I knew so well, was replaced by this arrogant musclehead who struggled with math and was totally incapable of having a history discussion that didn’t revolve around bragging about how today badass America was, and whose idea of a joke involved talking about tits or letting out a stinky fart. Apparently, it was a courtesy of the insane amounts of protein he started chugging to maintain his suddenly beefed-up physique. How the hell was it possible to gain that much muscle in such a short time? Maybe steroids, but the one time I asked about that, I ended up stuck under his stinky armpit. And what was up with that new nickname? “Snake!” How pretentious was that? But apparently, everyone in the group had a “badass nickname.” Ah, the joys of the standard American jock… Still, I tried to hold on to some of our friendship; God, did I try.

I even agreed to join a couple of those damn team practices, knowing damn well I didn’t have the physique, the skills, and maybe most importantly, the real desire to be there. I ended up getting ridiculed by everyone, including my so-called best friend.

I should’ve never talked to him again after that week of “practices.” But, being the idiot I am, all it took was a poorly worded apology full of grammatical mistakes that my brain refuses to recreate:

“Sorry, bro, the sensei got pissed at the guys when he heard their jokes about the size of your… well, you know. He wants you to meet us in the locker room today so we can apologize the right way. If you don’t show up, he’s gonna make us skip training for the whole week. Come on, please, for our friendship!”

… and there I was in that locker room. I should’ve left those morons without practice, but I decided to be the good samaritan.

Walking into that crap hole, what a surprise! It was empty. The pungent stench of sweat filled the room and humidity on the walls made it feel like the locker room was actually a beast whose musk drips off its body after a vigorous workout. But that didn’t matter; apparently, either the coach didn’t give a damn about what happened, which I should’ve figured, since he was just an older version of the ogre crew he trained, or he didn’t even know what went down, and I was about to be the victim of another lame prank.

Thinking about the danger, I quickly turned to leave. Then I noticed… on the other side of the room, hanging on one of the lockers… had that been there before? A piece of red fabric… oh, of course. A red gi from the team; they even gave themselves a pretentious name…. The fight practice was happening right at that moment. It was hard to think about it. I said so much crap about the team on TikTok and Instagram, tarnishing the reputation of the strong and disciplined image they worked so hard to create outside those walls that they probably hated my guts now. All those arrogant alpha dogs were arrogant and obnoxious. What the hell was I thinking trying to fit in? Nerdy little dudes like me didn’t really belong there. Even the jokes about my dick; if I were one of them, I’d just throw a punch or come back with some barbaric, macho comeback and everything would be cool. But I wasn’t like that, and my frustration with all of it was proof of that.

I never really liked the Gi. That red color always seemed way too aggressive, and for some reason, it always looked oversized on me, with sleeves and pants that were way too long and baggy. I had to wrap the belt around me twice just to keep it from falling off my skinny frame. Apparently, it never crossed the sensei’s mind that a little guy like me would have the audacity to try to join his team. Thinking about it, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the Gi; I hated it. It represented everything I despised about that bunch of trolls and also my lost friendship.

I stepped back and slowly turned my head back to the locker with the gi. Did it belong to someone? normally they were used by any of the team's bodies, one size fits all, or almost, when I was still there... anyway... after training they went straight to the laundry before returning for the next training session. Not that any washing would really get rid of the complete animalistic musk that infested their fabric. So why would someone leave it here?

Not my fucking problem. Probably just a spare or something. I think, walking resolutely toward the door, and I crack it open slightly. I turn back. I guess there’s no one using it. That means someone’s gonna grab it soon. Something’s bugging me. But what is it? I get closer, the musk intensifying. That gi definitely isn’t new and hasn’t been washed recently. And what’s this? There’s a note along with it. I sit on the nearby bench to read.

“Sorry, bro, today’s practice was super important, and the sensei didn’t want to wait for you. But he left your gi here. Put it on and come train; this time it’ll be different, I promise. Trust me, for old times’ sake.”

Old times? Maybe… maybe I should give it a shot. God, what a weird thought. Why would I want to do that? But while I’m thinking about it, my feet are already moving me to stand up and head toward the locker, while my hands are grabbing my shirt and pulling it up. I should stop. I need to stop. I should leave now, but the shirt comes off and goes over my head, landing on the floor. My pants are unbuttoned, and soon they join the shirt. I really should stop. Why do I want this? It’d be better to stop, but soon I’m in my boxers holding the gi in front of me. First, I put one leg in... then the other... then the arms, and then the belt… why is it black? I wonder, confused… but then that consuming need fades away.

I look at myself. As always, it doesn’t fit. I look like a kid wearing his dad’s suit at some event. I sit back down on the bench. Alright, that strange urgency is satisfied. So now I can just take this damn thing off!

But I don’t want to, for some strange reason. I feel more comfortable than ever. It’s like that mismatched uniform was made for me. My delicate hands wander over the ill-fitting outfit, the long sleeves sliding down my shoulders. I try to adjust them back into place, but they stop midway as I start to feel the material against my skin. The feeling of power it gives me… the feeling of strength… was it really this good when I was practicing? No, definitely not; if it was, I wouldn’t have quit. Man, this feels amazing... I feel the weight of the gi on me, both real and metaphorical… the weight of what it represents… my hands roam over its wide shape… it’s not just a uniform… it’s an armor… a sacred cloak… this is so cool… I can hear them in the training room… too bad I can’t join them... I wish I could... and they asked... didn’t they? I shift a bit on the bench and let my arms fall to my sides. Weird, I didn’t seem that far from the ground before. I feel cozy; the sweat smell doesn’t bother me, the whole atmosphere feels familiar, even comforting, like coming home after a long day and sitting in your favorite chair. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to fall asleep...

My rational mind, or what’s left of it, doesn’t notice. But unconsciously, I do… my muscles are slowly expanding, my skinny body pushing against the bench while my hands gently massage my slightly protruding belly that’s slowly flattening, the little bit of fat there seeming to be sucked in with every circle my hand makes. My shoulders are also widening, getting broader, as I grunt happily, a tingling sensation creeping up my body.

Feeling that, my eyes suddenly open, a jolt waking me up a bit from that stupor. What the hell was that? I look at my belly, and it’s widening as I’m hit with shock. I’m getting ripped! My hands trace the outline of my abs as the little muscle blocks there grow and harden, turning into six distinct shapes. As I stare at that in fascination, the stupor hits me harder.

The rigid stones of my abs aren’t the only things getting harder. My arms and legs are swelling with new muscle, keeping pace with my ever-growing body. And, well... I gently pat my groin. It’s definitely there too… a solid extra four inches, and still soft… As my body keeps expanding, the sensation turns pleasurable, like scratching an itch that’s been bugging you for ages, so I let it wash over me. My mouth opens in a gasp, drool spilling out as I pant like a dog. For some reason, it’s easier to breathe like this. Maybe because my nose is breaking and reforming a few times without me even noticing? As the drool runs down my pecs, I bring my hand to them and feel them grow, making my hands look tiny in comparison to the two meat packages they become. I shake my hand a bit, sending the drool flying, and with each shake, I see it grow too, turning into a massive paw, perfect for smashing some unsuspecting fool. Looking at that seems… really good… and I laugh. And out of nowhere, the other hand starts growing too, while my feet expand like crazy. My size eight shoes will never fit those paws; what size are they now? 14? Or maybe 15? A good kick with those surfboards and you’re down for the count… cool… hehehe...

No, not cool, not cool at all! This damn outfit is doing something to me! I stand up and grab the gi by the sleeves at my shoulders, ready to rip it off, and then…. I fall back onto the bench, my eyes unfocused again as a sudden wave of pleasure hits me like a tsunami. Yeah, a torrent of testosterone floods my body as my jawline becomes prominent, my chin broadens, and little tufts of freshly trimmed hair cover my chest and armpits. My mouth opens again, drool spilling out as my neck thickens, and my Adam’s apple sticks out, while my forehead becomes more pronounced, with low brows creating a scowl that makes it look like I’m always ready to fight, and my hair gets shaved on the sides, completing the look of a total douchebag. I try to care, I try to fight... fight... good… fights is good... no… not fight like this... I start to lift my arm, now powerful and making the gi look slightly tight… my biceps must be huge… hehhe… then it drops again… I look at my altered reflection in the mirror and see someone who could easily roll with Samue… Snake and the other guys… who knows, maybe now it’ll end… maybe I’ll finally break free from this stupor and get out of here… But then the real nightmare begins, as a web of powerful veins snakes through the swollen muscles of my body, a myriad of intrusive thoughts starts to slowly shape my mind, no matter how hard I try to resist. They break through my defenses with such force that my illusions shatter quickly as I start to forget. Memories of long hours of studying slowly morph into party after party with my friends, working out with them, training with them, watching my body swell and grow; time spent on pop culture becomes time spent watching football, hours and hours perfecting my college resume turns into hours and hours of sweat and sacrifice perfecting my fighting technique to the point of perfection. Just like my friends. Just like the sensei taught us to be. And we owe it all to sensei. Especially since he’s gonna figure out a way to get me into college, get all of us, in every corner of the country, ensuring that his teachings are passed on. Just one of us in any student group or, better yet, a fraternity, and boom, a new crew of brothers ready to spread the word… ha… word… funny… as if we needed to talk… no… our way is the way of the fist!

Shit, I can’t believe I slept through practice! Sensei is gonna rip me a new one! I shouldn’t have hooked up with those hot girls from college with Snake last night… dude, I couldn’t miss that hookup… I’ll just have to take the sensei’s punishment like a man… and I AM THE MAN!”

I stand up and groan, my voice deeper, with a bit of a growl. I turn toward the door, bracing for sensei’s yelling… Eh, screw him. He’ll put on his show about my tardiness, and I’ll play my part as the remorseful kid, and everything will be fine. It’s not like I skipped out or, God forbid, quit the team; I can’t even imagine the things he’d do to a damn deserter. I stretch a bit, admire myself in the mirror… Mad Dawg, you’re so swole… damn… you big, hot son of a bitch!

And then I finally walk toward the training room to join my brother’s in arms. Today’s practice is gonna be awesome; I can feel it, but honestly, it always is; I was born for this.

#male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #musclegrowth

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demonsslayersstuff · 1 month ago

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Hair Washing (Levi Ackerman x Gender Neutral Reader)

Description: Just a little slice of life story about helping Levi wash his hair post war.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, nudity, suggestive content (nothing too graphic), and comfort.

A/N: Here’s the first of my end of the year fics that I am writing. I’ve always liked the idea of a soft Levi so I decided to go with that in this fic. Anyway Enjoy!

P.S: Working on chapter 7 of my Gojo fic so keep your eyes open for that!

You hear the all too familiar clatter of what you assume is the shampoo bottle followed by the not so quiet, “Fuck”, that spills out of Levi’s mouth. It had been a never ending battle for Levi in these past few weeks, trying and often failing to shower properly on his own. His injured leg made it near impossible to stand anymore and his lack of fingers on his one hand made gripping soapy slick things extremely difficult.

You sigh, before going to stand awkwardly at the door too afraid to knock. Levi and you had argued bitterly about this predicament, while he was grateful for your offer of help, he didn’t want to feel like an invalid. You respected his feelings and were supportive of him doing things on his own. In fact, you’d always let Levi do things on his own, only helping when he begrudgingly asked you for assistance (after failing to complete the task multiple times on his own).

But today you as you stand near the door you feel a difference in the air, hear a quiet cry of pain and you decide then and there you were done with this situation the two of you were in. You fling the bathroom open and catch the grimace of pain on Levi’s face that he was trying to mask. “I thought I told you that I can do it-”, Levi starts, anger clear in his tone, but for once you don’t care and soon two words that you never thought you’d say to your partner roll off your tongue. “Shut up”, you tell him before you lean down to grab the shampoo bottle you knew he had desperately been trying to pick up, before placing carefully back in its usual place as you flick the shower off for a moment.

Levi stares at you with a shocked expression, eyes blown wide open. In all the years of being in the Scout Regiment together he knew you to be a bit temperamental at times, but never once had you ever spoken back towards a higher ranking official. He watches as you run your palm over your face, fingers rubbing the sides of your temple and sigh, a clear indication of your frustration. “Levi, I know you can do it on your own, I do”, you begin after you remove your fingers from your head, your eyes locking with his.

“You are and will always be one of the strongest people I know. But remember sometimes even the strongest need help and there’s no shame in that”, you finish, tone a bit softer. You watch as Levi huffs before closing his eyes for a long time as he was trying to think of a counter argument. You use the opportunity to squat down near the stool he was sitting on before reaching out to gently cup his cheek, your movements forcing him to open his eyes. “I have an idea in mind, a sort of compromise if you’re willing to hear it?”, you ask him, your voice gone of any previous anger. You so desperately wanted to help him and fighting wasn’t going to solve this.

“Well seeing as you told me to shut up, I don’t really have a choice”, Levi gruffly responds. Your cheeks go red with embarrassment, guilty that you’d let your anger get the best of you. However you hear the lingering trace of cheekiness in his words and know that he’d forgiven you. “Listen, how about for the next few weeks I help you shower”, you start, but Levi doesn’t look too happy with your words. “Let me finish”, you tell him with steely eyes and watch as Levi swallows whatever words were in his mouth. You grab his hand and give it a gentle squeeze before continuing. “As I was saying, I’ll help you shower the next few weeks. But during that time we’ll see what we need to change about the bathroom in order to make showering alone easier for you to do”, you finish with a small smile on your face.

You watch has Levi ponders your suggestion. It was a fair idea, he had to admit and if the two of you managed to change up the bathroom to be more accessible, then he’d be able to gain a sense of independence he’d been trying retain. “Ok, let’s do it”, Levi finally says and you jump up with an excited squeal as Levi sighs quietly, though there was a barely there smile that graced his features. “Now, may help you?”, you ask Levi sweetly. He nods his head in ascent and you get straight to work…by taking off your own clothes.

“What are you doing?”, Levi questions, the tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of pink. “Oh please, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before, if I remember correctly last night you were the one practically begging me to lose my clothes”, you quip back, making his ears turn a darker shade of pink. “Besides I don’t want my clothes getting wet”, you continue before turning on the warm water. “You could have just started with that”, Levi mutters though his good eye clung to the curvature of your body, a sight that would never bore him. You were the most beautiful thing on the planet and as you lean down to kiss his forehead, Levi begins to question why the two of you have never showered together in the first place. My stubborn pride, he muses internally.

“Ok, what’s the most difficult thing for you?”, you question as you move to turn the water warmer, the temperate spray falling on both of your bodies. “Reaching for things”, Levi admits honestly, though his tone was thick with embarrassment, which you politely ignored. “Could you please reach for the shampoo so I can make a note of where we need to move the shelf?”, you ask him softly as the water continues trickle down your bodies, its heat creating a steam that swirled around the room. You watch carefully as Levi moves his arm and you make a mental note of where it hovers in the air. “Thanks, I’m gonna start washing your hair”, you murmur as you grab the shampoo, slathering the soap in your hands.

Once they are covered in suds you place your hands onto Levi’s head, fingers working with a meticulous pace as you work the soap into his dark locks and onto his scalp. Levi leans his head back slightly, lost in the touch of your fingers on his head, he moans quietly as your fingers scratch around his ears in a delicate manner. Levi cracks an eye open, to look up at you, your head blocking the water that falls from the shower head. His good eye focuses on your face, capturing the determined yet, soft expression of your face as you continue to wash his hair. Levi can only guess the look on your eyes was the overwhelming love you had for him, something that makes his heart beat a little faster.

You catch his eye watching you, causing you to give him light smile before you lean down and capture his lips with a soft chaste kiss. “Let’s rinse your hair now”, you tell him as you move your head out of the way, letting the water fall across Levi’s face and hair. Your fingers work quickly to rinse out the soap as they thread through his hair, though you are mindful of the potential knots your fingers catch from the earlier scrubbing. You move to stand in front of Levi, hands moving to cup his neck gingerly as you straighten his posture. “Ok, body washing time”, you begin, but Levi cuts you off. “Wait”, he mumbles quietly, voice nearly catching in his throat. You look at him, eyebrows raised, your question spoken through your eyes. “I want to wash your hair”, Levi tells you, voice firm, though his face holds a different emotion.

“Ok”, you murmur as Levi hands come to grip your waist, pulling you onto to his lap. Your thighs come to rest against his hips as your feet rest on the tile floor, brushing up against the stool’s legs. Your hands are splayed on Levi’s shoulders as you straddle his waist, your ass firmly planted on his strong thighs. The two of you get lost in the intimate embrace for a moment, his stormy blue eye holding your own eyes at attention. Levi uses this opportunity to then softly brush his lips against your own, a small gesture riddled with so many unspoken words. Soft Levi was his way of expressing his love without him having to explicitly state it. Your hands release their hold on his shoulders as they creep up back into his wet locks, your arms moving his neck forward gently forcing his face closer. You part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, moaning faintly as his tongue swipes against your own. Levi’s grip on your waist tightens, his internal battle of desire brooding on the surface. As much as he’d love to take you here and now, Levi knew that intimacy wasn’t just sex, it was other things, so he resolved to complete his stated task.

With a hushed sigh, Levi begrudgingly pulls away from your heady lips. “Let me wash your hair”, Levi reminds you as he pecks your nose for a brief second, letting you catch your breath. You let out a muffled “Mhmm”, as you grab the shampoo bottle, pouring out more soap, this time into Levi’s palm. You duck your head down as Levi’s fingers work the soap into your hair. You close your eyes as his fingers massage your temple silently, the only sound that could be heard was the water steadily rolling down into the drain. When he was finished, Levi’s fingers moved to help rise the suds from your hair as the still warm water continued to flow across your bodies, almost as if the two of you had been caught in a warm summer rain shower.

Once Levi had completed his task, you reach to grab the body soap, lathering your hands as you rubbed the bar between your fingers. You stand, sad as you removed yourself from your comfortable position on Levi’s lap, but as much as you wanted to remain there and kiss him senseless, the two had now been in the shower for quite some time, your pruned fingers a clear indication of just how long you’d be in the water. “Ready?”, you ask him as you lean down, hands freely roaming his body, layering his skin with a delicate line of soap. Levi wraps his arms on your shoulder as you carefully hoist him up for a moment, allowing himself to clean the parts of him that he couldn’t whilst he was sitting down.

As Levi rinses his body you work quickly to wash your own body before rinsing off yourself, letting the last of the warmth wrap you into a gentle embrace before you finally turned off the water. You step out of the shower to grab two towels from the cabinet across from the sink, handing Levi one before wrapping the fluffy fabric around your body. You watch Levi dry himself of, eyes continuously trained on his sculpted body. “What?”, he asks, bringing you back to attention. “Nothing…I just…you’re, striking”, you mumble, before turning away to dry your hair. Your words cling to Levi, he enjoyed making you flustered, but this time he felt something deeper within your words.

“Thank you”, Levi murmurs as the two of you finish getting dressed, you helping him sit down in his wheelchair. “You don’t need to thank me”, you tell him, picking up the dirty clothes and towels before placing them in the hamper. “No, I do, I’ve been stubborn about this for a while, but today was nice”, Levi continues, sincerity laced in his words. “You’re welcome”, you answer back. “Now, what do you want for dinner?”, you ask him, stepping out of the bathroom. You hear Levi sigh, “No way in hell am I letting you cook again”, he calls after you. You laughter rings through your home and as Levi follows you into the kitchen he can’t help be feel a sense of gratefulness that this is the life he gets to lead now.

#attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi #aot fic #aot drabbles #aot fluff #levi ackerman

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hannie-dul-set · 11 months ago

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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [2].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst if you squint, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, multiple instances where personal space is invaded HAHAHHA, the boys are very dramatic please understand their yearning hearts. WORD COUNT. 4.5k.

NOTE. woohoo! next chapter to this shitshow! some parts may be a bit confusing and vague....sometimes ominous....but all will be known in due time HAHAHHA (may be tempted to give a spoiler or two if u ask). hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 2 — these meet-cutes aren’t cute at all.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO READ LIPS. But you don’t need to know how to get the idea that Taehyun is shooting an insult at you right now. His face says it all. “I said you look like hell,” he repeats after you’ve removed your headphones, the music still leaking out even after you’ve settled it down the cemented table.

“Taehyun’s right,” Gaeul pipes in, and Woohyun seconds it. “You look like crap. What did you do last night?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you grunt, melting into the table. The sound of Yeong-Il’s Second Life is still just barely playing in the background thanks to your loud as fuck headphones volume. “We finished our exams. Of course I stayed up until six in the morning watching dramas.”

Three disappointed stares and one of full respect. “Dude, you’re crazy,” says Huening. “What did you watch? Night Has Come? My Demon? You should’ve invited me. I feel betrayed.”

“Both,” you reply, but you don’t seem all too happy after consuming over twenty episodes worth of dopamine. You’re frowning. You slam a fist down the table and let out a groan. “But they don’t fill the Choi Soobin shaped hole in my heart— fuck! Why isn’t he getting employed? Why hasn’t he been posting on his Insta? It’s been six months since his last drama. I miss him already.”

Huening’s attempts to console you consist of a few pats on your back. Gaeul’s attempt is a lot more effective. “Didn’t you win a slot to Choi Yeonjun’s fansign this weekend? Aren’t you coming?” You spring up with a gasp. “Girl, don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I did! I fucking forgot because I have a deadline on the same fucking day, fuck! I want to die. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Are you still going?” asks Woohyun.

“Of course she is! Deadlines come ten times a week, but the chance to meet Choi Yeonjin comes one in a million!” Gaeul exclaims, then grabs you by the shoulders with a very serious look on her face, as if she wasn’t just disappointed that you sacrificed sleep just to watch a bunch of dramas. “Tell him I’m in love with him. No, wait, I need to tell him that in person. Tell him to wait for me. I’ll get in next time for sure.”

You whine out something that sounds like an agreement. “I haven’t prepared an outfit yet. This is so depressing. Gaeul, help me.”

Taehyun, who doesn’t share any of your unhealthy fixations, still hasn’t crawled out from his state of disappointed concern. “Just make sure you don’t miss your Saturday deadline,” he says. You roll your eyes in response.

“This is me you’re talking to. I may not seem like it, but I have my shit together. You don’t have to worry.”

They hate to admit it, but it’s true.

Your friends have always wondered how you managed to balance your hellish course load, your evening shifts at The Grind, and your hobby of fangirling over pretty and good looking men. The only reason you were able to binge two dramas until daylight is because you’ve finished all your midterm requirements before taking your exams, and you’ll definitely be able to attend the fansign because you’ll somehow finish a thirty-page paper in one day, in between classes and your work shifts.

They’re quite convinced you’re insane. The lifeless look in your eyes as you flit through your flashcards to review for a recitation later is a testament to that insanity.

But sometimes, a little spark of life manages to slip through.

Like right now, as you check a notification in your phone in the middle of reviewing.

“Shit, fuck, shit— oh my god. Yeong-Il dropped an interview, fuck, hold on—”

“Whoa, really?’ Woohyun digs his nose next to you. You guys have a graded recitation in thirty minutes, and you’re walking to the classroom with a blank face zeroed in at your phone screen in landscape instead of the flashcards you have now tossed away into your bag, paying no mind to your surroundings to the point that Gael and Huening have to make sure you’re still walking in the right direction.

Taehyun isn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. They can’t even tell you off because they know you’ll somehow find the answers to Prof Yang’s questions anyway.

APPARENTLY, THERE’S A CAR ACCIDENT OUT FRONT. On top of having a tiring day of rehearsals and the interview with Beomgyu exposing his delusions on the internet being dropped earlier (they didn’t edit it out, those rats), Yeong-Il isn’t having a good day, so it’s to no one’s surprise the the tension inside their van on the way back to their dorms is rather palpable.

Beomgyu, however, doesn’t feel said tension. Or maybe he just doesn’t care because he’s closing his eyes, ready to nap while all the rest of the vehicles surrounding theirs are honking their horns, and while Jeongin and Jimin are monitoring the interview on a phone. The part where Beomgyu talks about his alleged first love comes up. “Beomgyu,” Heeseung groans, covering his ears with a neck pillow. “Did you really have to say all that?”

“Ahh, quit nagging. No one’s even taking it seriously,” he grumbles, arms crossed and turning over his body to face the window instead of his bandmates.

“Yeah, people are just raving about how romantic Beomgyu is,” says Jimin.

“And making edits of him and Heeseung,” adds Jeongin. “They’re mistaking your stressed-out glances at Beomgyu as signs of unrequited love—”

Heeseung shoves a hand against Jeongin’s face to shut him up. “Still. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

“Nyenye. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

They’re friendly as usual. Heeseung can’t put in the last word because Beomgyu has completely transformed into a sleeping position— yet he can’t seem to sleep and rest despite being absolutely fucked out and tired. He lets out a groan, squirming in the car seat. “Ugh.” The car still isn’t moving. The road is still a mess. All he wants is to rest as soon as possible, and he can’t even have that. All he wants is to see you again as soon as possible, and he’s starting to feel like he can’t have that as well.

Beomgyu gives up. He begrudgingly opens his eyes and looks at the state of the traffic out the window. It’s getting dark. Streetlights are being lit up one after the other, and he watches people moving faster than the frozen cars, like the road and the sidewalk are on two separate spaces of time.

A thought enters his head. What are the chances that you’ll be one of the people walking along the sidewalk right now?

“They’re making way for an ambulance.”

It’s a fruitlessly hopeful thought, he knows. It’s a silly possibility to entertain. But still. He can’t help but examine each of the faces passing by in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his wish from four-hundred years ago will finally fucking come true.

“Damn, when are we getting home?”

Right when Beomgyu gives up hoping and tries to fall back asleep again, he spots a familiar face walking down the sidewalk. Wait a minute—

“Man, this sucks.”

He jolts up, There’s no way. There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize that expression— stone-cold, looking as if the very thing in front of you is a worthless bug waiting to be stepped on, warding away any possible attempts of anyone bothering you. There are no knives in your hands, but a phone and a paper bag. You’re not adorned in the blue, red, white, and gold like he’s used to, but a large coat draped over your shoulders.

Still. Even if your face is covered by a mask, or if you’ve inhabited the body of a completely different person.

“Beomgyu, wanna play are round when we get—”

There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize you.

Looks like the chances are high after all.

“Beomgyu?!”

The van door slides open. Beomgyu feels the cold air hitting his face as he rushes in between the gaps of the traffic-saddled cars and the spaces in between. He hears Heeseung and Jeongin and Jimin calling after him but he doesn’t give a shit. Not now. Not when he’s sure he finally has you within reach, closing in the gap between you before you can disappear into a corner. Not when all he has to do is stretch out his hand, breath caught in his throat and heart racing, and pull you by the arm so you can turn around and look at him.

And you do.

Your phone crashes to the ground, and you’re looking at him like you want to punch him in the face. Beomgyu’s heart skips a beat.

“What the hell?!”

“It’s you.”

Beomgyu watches your brows knit together, your mouth falling into a sneer. It’s like looking into a time machine. Holy shit.

“It’s really you.”

That look of annoyance. There’s no denying it. Night has fallen. The only thing illuminating your face is a single streetlight hanging above, but he’d be stupid to mistake you for anyone else. The arm that shakes his hold off is yours. The eyes that are glaring at him— sharp as knives— are yours, yours, and yours alone and he can get lost in them for hours on end. “The fuck? Do I know—”

Your name falls from his lips for the first time in centuries. It’s always been blurry, always at the tip of his tongue the moment his memories from four-hundred years ago came crashing back to him like a storm. But now, it comes off naturally the moment he sees you. It rolls off his tongue like it’s the only thing he was ever meant to sing.

He says your name once more. Your eyes widen in alarm.

“Are you a stalker?”

“I love you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I love you,” he repeats, breathless. “My biggest regret was failing to tell you how much I loved when I still had the chance.”

“What the fuck? What are you—”

Beomgyu reaches out for your hands, tugging you closer. Your skin burns him. Warm. Alive. “Now that I’ve been given that chance, I’m not letting go of you anymore.” He pauses, practicing the words inside his head before saying, “Let’s get married.”

“What?!”

“I love you. I missed you. Let’s get married right now.”

You don’t say anything. You’re silent. Beomgyu feels his stomach wrench and drop and hurt all the way to his chest and lungs because why—

Why are you looking at him like that?

“I’m going to call the fucking cops.” Once again, you shove him off, pulling your hands back and pressing them close to your chest. “There’s a crazy fucking bastard on the— shit! My phone! The screen is cracked, gosh! I haven’t even finished paying for it, for fuck’s sake, you have to— ex—excuse me, are you crying? Are you actually crying? What the hell?”

Beomgu’s vision is cloudy and his cheeks are wet. He knows you’ve always been spunky. You’ve always had an attitude and you two didn’t start off on the right foot, either. But why are you acting like you don’t know him? Like he’s some sort of fucking stranger?

“Hey, I should be the one crying right now! You broke my phone! What is wrong with—”

“There you are!”

Suddenly, he doesn’t see you anymore. Heeseung’s voice comes crashing in and he gets shoved aside, eyes stinging and mind still in a daze. “I’m so, so sorry for my friend over here. We can’t pay for the damages right away, but please take this. Again, we’re so sorry! Hope you have a great night, still!”

No. He can’t let you slip away again. Not when he can finally hold you in his arms like all the countless times he hasn’t. “Dude, what are you doing?!” Heeseung yanks him back before he can run after you down the sidewalk. “Quit being weird. Why the hell are you crying?”

Beomgyu is having a hard time understanding. He’s not sure if he can’t, or if he simply doesn’t want to believe this— but your eyes don’t lie. He can tell if you’re annoyed by him just by looking at you. He can tell if you’re angry, regretful, elated, or drunk from the onslaught of his affections, so this time— he can clearly tell as well.

He can tell just from the look in your eyes that you don’t remember him.

That all those years of waiting for you was all for naught.

SOOBIN KNOWS THAT HE SHOULDN’T BE HERE RIGHT NOW. He knows that he’s supposed to be on a diet, and he knows that he has a photo shoot for a magazine this weekend. He even got rid of his stash of instant ramyeon because of that, deleted all those delivery apps because this’ll be his first schedule after a few months of taking a break.

But he is here, at one in the morning, in between the isles of the 7-Eleven nearest to his apartment building, because cravings sometimes trump rationality, and god he sure is craving for a cup of noodles. Or two. Two sounds good. And since he’s already here, might as well put a pack of milk bread in his basket. A can of Sprite too. Manager Lee is gonna kill him, but at least he’ll die full and satisfied.

“Hey, hold the door open for me.”

“Don’t you have hands?”

“Nice! They have empty seats outside. Waiting here. Buy me some donuts.”

Ah, shit. Soobin pulls his hood over his head and readjusts his mask. Sounds like a group coming in. He should pay later once the store’s emptier— meaning, he has no choice but to browse for more snacks to add to his basket. Totally not because he wants to, no.

“Why’d you bring your laptop all the way here? You can continue working in Woohyung’s apartment.”

“Yeah, girl. There’s still a lot of time before the deadline.”

Soobin doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but the voices are talking pretty loudly. He’s dropping a few packets of yakgwa cookies into his basket while listening to a group of college students mourning about their courses. Good thing he chose not to pursue tertiary education.

“I need to finish this as soon as possible if I want to attend the fucking fansign. Crap, I should’ve switched majors when I had the chance.”

He abruptly stops snack surfing. Wait. Pause. Hold on.

“Should’ve done that before junior year.”

“I know. Shut up. Get me a popsicle, please. Chocolate. Thank you.”

That voice—

“They ran out. Only strawberry or melon. Pick one”

“That’s fucking balls.”

“You’re so eloquent.”

“Suck my fucking dick.”

Okay. Nevermind. It’s kinda weird to hear a voice that sounds eerily similar to the love of his life’s saying so much obscenities. You only spoke pretty words to him before, so maybe he’s just tripping. There’s no way you’d swear so much, so he continues browsing the snack aisle. Maybe he just misses you so much that he’s starting to mistake a similarly sounding voice as yours and subconsciously letting his hopes up.

“Hyun, by the way. I forgot to mention. I met a Choi Beomgyu lookalike last night on the way home from work. It was fucking wild.”

Then again, he thinks, arm paused hovering above a bag of chips. People didn’t really say suck my fucking dick in Joseon era.

Soobin stops filling his basket and starts moving out of the aisle, following the sound of your voice.

“I almost fell in love on the spot, but the guy wasn’t right in the head, I think.” Closer. You’re starting to sound closer. “He knew my name. He kept acting like he knew me and asked me to fucking marry him? I even dropped my phone because he scared the shit out of me. I don’t know, it was wild.”

Where? Where are you?

“Dude, really? No way.”

“I’m serious! I’m telling you—”

Where the hell are you?

“I even got a card from his friend when he dragged the Beomgyu clone away. I have it here, take a loo— wait. Wait. Isn’t BH the agency that manages Yeong-Il? Am I wrong— oh, sorry!”

There you are.

There’s a stain on his hoodie. Bright pink. It matches the popsicle you’re holding, the varsity jacket you’re wearing, and the color painting his cheeks because you’re right in front of him. You’re actually right in front of him right now— face flushed with panic, eyes rapidly blinking. “Are—are you Choi Soobin?” someone says. Not you. You’re still profusely apologizing while trying to wipe away the stain with your jacket sleeve.

“That’s ridiculous, Huening. Go get me some tissues! I’m so, so sorry, oh gosh. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You’re here. It’s actually you. His heart is racing. He can’t fucking breathe. He’s not sure if he should cry, scream, or all of the above.

But there’s something different. There’s something wrong.

“I can tell Choi Soobin from a picture of his ear! I’m telling you it’s him!” Your attention is pulled away by your companion tugging on your arm. “You’re Choi Soobin, right?! Jipuragi? Figured Obscurity?”

“Dude, you’re making him uncomfortable! Why in the world would Choi Soobin be—”

Soobin pulls down his mask, tugging on its fabric. When you turn back to look at him, your popsicle drops to the ground and you let out a gasp.

Your eyes are shining. You’re beaming. You do recognize him. You do know him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m such a big fan.”

Just not in the way he was hoping for.

“Y—yeah. Would you like a picture?”

You let out a squeal. So does your friend. This isn’t how Soobin expected his reunion with you to go about. This is wrong. He had it all planned in his head like a screenplay, and all that was left was to execute it without fail.

The moment he sees you, he was supposed to spin you around and hear your laughter fluttering in the air. He was supposed to hold you in his arms and give you the first kiss he’d been saving in this life because he’s been waiting for you all this time, yearning for years and years to give you the life he wasn’t able to in the past. To make up for everything you missed because in this life— there’s no class system to keep you apart. There’s nothing stopping him from loving you out in the open.

He didn’t expect to give you his autograph and take a fan selca with you after years of waiting.

This is so wrong. This is so freaking wrong.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” who he assumes is your friend says, and you’re smiling so, so brightly while looking at the photo of you and him that everything he wishes to say and profess and confess just lodges in his throat, blocking everything in its path.

“Thank you! Don’t worry, we won’t post this anywhere,” you say. Soobin holds back the inhuman urge to tell you why settle for a photo, when you can have him instead?

“S—sure. Anytime.”

“Ah, we should probably give you some privacy now. Huening, stop gawking! Anyway, fighting! We’re looking forward to your upcoming dramas!”

Just like that, you leave. You walk out of the store and join the rest of your friends outside, and he sees you showing off the signature he left on your receipt from the window, when he could give you so much more than that, when you could show off that you already own his entire heart. This...this really isn’t how he wanted to reunite with you. And the underlying reason for it something he doesn’t want to entertain.

“YEONJUN, YOU’RE UP IN TEN,” says a staff member. It’s the last week of promotions, and Yeonjun is getting his hair and makeup retouched one last time before he’s set to go uponstage to open the fansign. His manager tells him not to do anything stupid, or scandalous, or all of the above onstage— an almost everyday reminder that Yeonjun, more often than not, isn’t interested in listening to.

“Noona, you should trust me more,” he reacts, a slight whine in his tone. Manager Kim’s expression is nothing but dubious.

“At the very least warn me before you do something insane so I can prepare.”

“Will do,” Yeonjun grins, and his manager waves him off. Screams erupt the moment he emerges from behind the stage curtains, and everything else just comes naturally for Choi Yeonjun— not needing to second guess when he blows a kiss mid-performance, stirs the crowd with a comment or two, and making sure that all eyes are on him, almost as if he was born on every stage he steps foot on.

And to think he started this career without any desire for stardom.

Now, there’s nothing he desires more than blinding lights and the visceral sounds of cheers.

“A—ah, hello!”

Well. There is one thing.

“Crap, I—I’m so nervous I don’t think I can breathe.”

“Oh no,” replies Yeonjun to the fan sitting before him, marker in hand as he flips open the tabbed page on the nth album splayed out on the table. “Should I give you CPR to help you start breathing again?”

The girl lets out something sort of a squeal. He grins out a laugh and asks for her name and if she’s eaten anything yet.

“Thank you! Oh— oh, wait, one more thing—”

“Next!”

It’s a fast paced rotation. It always is. But Yeonjun uses the split second before the next person carousels in front of him to make a quick scan across the people lining up, across the people waiting in the audience seats, clinging onto the sliver of probability that this may finally be the day where his years of yearning for the ghost of past can finally end— well overdue for god knows how long already.

He reuses and rehashes the same lines, same dialogue, and same greetings for the next person, and the next person, and the next and the next and the next. It’s just one face after another. Not that he’s bored, or unappreciative of the fans that spent their time (and truckloads of money) to see him. But it’s human to feel a sense of disappointment when the face he wants to see doesn't turn up after the fifth, tenth, seventh, hundredth, thousand, nth face, fansign after a fansign.

“Next.”

His wrist is getting sore, back is getting tired, but Yeonjun readies himself for another round of mindless chat, missing the opportunity to do his routine scans when he closes his eyes to roll back his shoulders.

“Oh.”

Yeonjun hears the voice in front of him say. It’s a singular syllable, not even a word, but it’s enough to snap him wide awake.

“Oh my gosh,” you say again. Yeonjun doesn’t feel his fingertips. “You’re even prettier up close, whoa, this is crazy.”

He’s frozen. The usual ments and words and lines that usually flow naturally off his tongue don’t come. His brain is empty. The ink from his marker seeps into the album page underneath his numb hands. He hears his manager say something, but his manager’s voice is so far away— so, so, so far away, but the face he;s been yearning for in his memories is now, all of a sudden and without warning, within an arm’s reach, right before his eyes.

The marker stumbles out of his grasp. If Yeonjun reaches an arm out right now—

“U—uh.”

—he’d be able to touch your face.

“O—oh, holy shit, okay so we’re doing this now.”

And he is. The very feeling of your soft skin, unchanged from the feeling stored in the capsules of his memories, burns stronger than the adrenaline he feels when he’s onstage under the spotlight.

It’s real. You’re real.

You’re right in front of him right now.

“Choi Yeonjun, what the hell are you doing?!”

The hiss of his manager from behind is ignored when he suddenly springs up from behind the table, and you let out a yelp when he drags you up along with him. He’s holding both of your hands, thumbs brushing over the ridges of your knuckles before pulling them closer to his chest. There’s whispering in the background, along with the snaps and flashes of the numerous cameras littered everywhere in the venue.

“Yeonjun.”

He pays no mind to them. Instead he brings up your hands to his face and presses a kiss onto your knuckles.

There’s a scream and gasp and a yell coming from somewhere.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

But all he’s focused on is the swirls in your widened eyes, dizzy and taken aback, voiceless with your mouth hanging open. Yeonjun furrows his brows. “Why don’t you look happy to see me, my love?” You hack out a hard cough and Yeonjun drops your hands in surprise. “What’s— what’s wrong?” he stammers, leaning forward and closing into your face while you turn away from him, digging more unease into his bones because this...this doesn’t seem right.

“Sh—shit, I think I need to sit down, oh my god,” he hears you say, and it hits him. Yes. You were never good at expressing your affection. Yes, yes. Perhaps you’re just overtaken by a surge of emotions, that your appearance looks like that of constipated confusion of trepidation as a result of being overwhelmed by the fact that you’re so in love with him and that you’re happy to see him again.

Yes. That must be it. You’re both sat back down, and he scribbles something on your now ink-stained album. “Next.” And when you’re just about to bow and leave, he says your name— one that he thought he’s forgotten— and you freeze.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he laughs. “There’s no need to be shy. Should I kiss you again to ease your— ack!”

“Next! Next person!”

Suddenly, you’re being scurried away. “No, wait!” he yells out, but the moment he tries to get up again, he’s jerked right back.

His manager is holding the back of his collar, and you’re disappearing into the crowd. Was…was Manager Kim always this strong? He can’t even budge, can’t even run after you after he’d finally been reunited with you again.

“Choi Yeonjun, that’s enough!”

He blinks, remembering belatedly just where he is right now.

There’s still a line of people waiting for him. Yeonjun drops back to his seat, his manager losing her grip on his shirt, and he brings himself back after a round of inhales and exhales. It’s alright, he thinks to himself. It’s gonna work out. “Sorry about that,” he hums, smiling at a now different face sitting in front of him. “What did you tell me your name was?”

You’ve been separated from him yet again, but this time it’s fine. He’s not anxious. He’s certain that it won’t take centuries for you to return to each other, no— it won’t be long until then because this time, he’s not dead.

You’re both still alive at this point in time.

And that enough assures him that he’s going to find his way back to you.

“Next!”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt scenarios

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dazzlerwriting · 4 days ago

Text

call me & i’ll come

robert ‘bob’ floyd x singer!reader

Pictures are not mine, credit to pinterest!

3.5k words

summary: inspired by “Watermelon” by Jane + John Q Public. after bob joins a D&D campaign to make friends in San Diego, he gets talked into also joining the band that is formed within the group. Over time he and the lead singer slowly get closer and closer. What happens when they kiss, but don’t talk about what the kiss meant to them?

warnings: slight miscommunication! fluff fluff fluff. a bit angsty at one point. the end gets a bit heated so 18+ MDNI!!!! Reader uses she/her pronouns, but theres no other descriptors! petname “darlin” is used twice. use of y/n (i tried so hard not to lol) flashback is bold and italicized

authors note: first off, thank you @lewmagoo for posting about drummer rhett, which in turn helped inspire this story! & everyone posting their Atta Boy stuff was also a huge inspiration to this!! only my second fic and i wrote so much. i just kept going and didnt stop until it was finished! im so sorry lmao. but i hope you enjoy!! this is mostly from bob’s pov!

Bob Floyd has a secret. Well, two. The first one is that he plays in a band in his free time, specifically, he plays the drums. Anyone who may watch how Bob acts when he thinks no one is paying attention, they would see him drumming on his lap, on the desk, or on any free surface. But the Dagger Squad isn’t that astute when it comes to their fellow workers lives. Natasha knows but, there’s a certain trust to be had between a pilot & their WSO. So Bob told her, and while she was taken a bit aback that the quiet Bob Floyd played the drums in an actual band, she was supportive.

Now, the secret that not even Natasha knows, the one Bob would swear he would take to his grave, is that he has a crush on the lead singer in their band. It's not just a silly crush that would go away with time; no, this crush has stuck since he first met her at a community D&D meetup.

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Flashback

He saw a sign that read “New Dungeons and Dragons campaign, starting Wednesday! All leveled players welcomed!” on the board at the grocery store a week after being stationed in San Diego. He decided he needed a creative outlet after work and maybe to make friends that weren’t pilots. So he went, and that’s when he saw her. She was their Game Master and she was wearing a renaissance faire-esque outfit. From that first sighting, he was a goner. He would look at her theatrical storytelling during their sessions with a fondness that rivaled the way Orpheus looked at Euridyce. Quickly he would look away before she caught him, but if he had kept looking, he would have noticed her looking at him the same way.

Somewhere along the way, another member of the party, named Blake, noticed Bob drumming on his thigh when the game would die down for a bit. They suggested Bob joined their band, seeing as they were in desperate need of a new drummer, the last one leaving to hit it big time. He went on a whole spill about everything having to do with the band and Bob was apprehensive at first, performing was way out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t like Rooster, he didn’t think he had the proper stage presence to perform for a crowd, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

But that’s when she walked over to the two, a smirk on her face as she looked at Blake and said “Blake… go easy on Bobby boy here. I’m sure he doesn’t need a whole infomercial on why he should join us.” She turned to Bob and put her hand on his arm, and for a second he was sure his brain short-circuited. Now with a soft smile on her face, she gently said “Bob we would love for you to join us, only if you’re comfortable. I know you could be called away at a second’s notice, but regardless it would be an honor to have you as our drummer.” He sat there for a second just taking her in, from the casual way she was dressed, to her kind demeanor. He realized at that moment he was royally fucked because he would do anything she asked. He looked her in the eyes and responded “I-I’ll do it,” stuttering a bit but getting through it. Her smile widened, her eyes lit up with what Bob thought could be adoration, and she jumped up a bit clapping, “Great! We rehearse every Saturday, usually, gigs are small just hangouts for friends or family! I’ll text you all the details.” He missed the warmth from her hand as soon as it was gone but her reaction was worth it. That night while Bob was getting ready to sleep, his phone lit up with a text.

Y/N: Thank you for agreeing to this Bob, it truly means a lot. I’m glad you decided to come to our session that first night :)

And after replying, he fell asleep with a grin on his face, not regretting his decision one bit.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Now after a few months, Bob and the rest of the members have gotten close. They hang out outside of rehearsal and game sessions, and they’ve even been to Bob’s apartment for dinner. That’s when he told Natasha that he was in a band, and introduced them to her. They had a great night and Bob felt like he had found his group of people. The thought of leaving them for a mission, where the outcome was unknown, was scary, but the idea of having them all there to come back to, outweighed the formidable thoughts. Especially when he thought about the kind, charming, and beautiful singer who made it her mission to text Bob every day to ensure he was having a good day. Over the few months they had learned a lot about each other, she made sure to ask him the same questions he would ask her. Including dreams, they had as kids, favorite movies, biggest music inspirations, etc. He opened up to her about the constant teasing from the Dagger Squad, including the “Baby on Board” joke. And he learned she was the biggest nerd outside of D&D, texting him updates on the latest comic she had read, the newest Doctor Who update, and random fun facts about his favorite movies. With every text he received, Bob fell deeper and deeper into Cupid’s chokehold.

It all kinda got turned upside down when he and Phoenix suffered from a Bird Strike during training, and they had to eject. Early morning, after leaving the hospital and getting home, he texted the band group chat to let them know he would be missing both D&D and band practice. He was bombarded with questions regarding his well-being, and texts lending out sympathy to him. But y/n had been quiet, that is until he heard a knock on his door. When he opened it, he saw her standing there with several bags full of groceries and a shy smile on her face. “Hi,” she said softly “I’m sorry for the intrusion but I just wanted to make sure your recovery was a stress-free time, and well, I just, I’m sorry I can drop all this off and go if you want me to. I should’ve texted beforehand and I..” she was rambling now and he thought he couldn’t find her any more endearing than he did right now. He adjusted his glasses and stepped out of the doorway, “N-no come on in, you are welcome here at any time, you know that.” At that, her shoulders dropped a bit in relief and he could see her let out a breath he doubted she knew she was holding in. He led her to the kitchen and watched her get to work doing whatever she was here to do.

“Okay so I have the stuff to make baked potato soup, Alfredo, and I also brought peanuts, chips, Gatorade, and a bunch of other snacks for you.” She quickly got everything out of the bags, putting things in the right place, and Bob was hit with a daydream of this being a normal occurrence. A domestic life with her, both of them dancing around each other in the kitchen, making dinner while dancing to songs like “I’ll Be Seeing You” by Billie Holiday. He was so caught up with his daydream, he didn’t even realize she was talking to him. “I’m sorry what did you say?” He asked with a bashful smile. She shook her head with a gentle laugh, and said “I was just saying you should go get comfortable, I’ll be in here for a while.” He looked at her and gave a soft nod, immediately going to lie down on the couch and continue his daydreaming. For a while, he could hear her gentle hums coming from the kitchen, and he let that lull him into a peaceful sleep where he dreamed of a future where they were together.

A few hours later he was woken up by someone gently shaking his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes, put his glasses on, and when he looked to see who it was, he swore he was still dreaming. She looked almost angelic standing above him with a caring smile and a bowl of something in her hands. “Sorry to wake you, it just hit 4, so I thought you might be hungry,” she gave a soft shrug and looked a bit nervous to see what his reaction might be. He took the bowl from her hands and gave a soft thank you with a smile he hoped was kind, and not some kind of grimace from still being a bit tired. He realized it was baked potato soup and he had to admit it was the best soup he had ever had, “This is amazing, thank you so much.” She gave another shrug and replied “It’s the least I can do, need our best sorcerer and drummer to get better soon! I put the rest in the fridge along with the Alfredo. The snacks are still on your island, but I should get out of your hair now. If you need anything please know I am a call away.” He really didn’t want her to leave just yet so he did something that even shocked him, “Do you want to stay, I’m sure you’re hungry as well and we could watch a movie or something?” Her eyes widened and a bright smile appeared on her face, “I would love to if you really don’t mind.” Of course, he didn’t mind, was she crazy?? If he could he would spend all of his time with her. “I don’t, please you’ve done so much for me today so please stay.” He didn’t mean to sound so needy, but it didn’t seem to deter her. In fact, her smile got brighter and she nodded her head.

They decided on watching Wall-E, it seemed like a good idea at the moment, but now they are both sniffling on the couch. “God who knew a cute robot could turn two adults into an emotional mess?” she said while turning to him, wiping the tears from under her eyes. He looked at her and she was gorgeous he thought. They sat looking in each other’s eyes for a moment and in a flash, their lips were on each other. He doesn’t know who leaned in first, all he knew was her lips were soft and he could feel her breath from her nose. As soon as it started, it was over and he chased her lips when she pulled away. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so- I’m gonna go. Thank you Bob.” she rushed out, quickly grabbed her stuff, and practically ran from his apartment. He sat there dumbfounded, had he messed it up so quickly? Did she not like him in the same way he did her? He didn’t know, he kept wondering what happened while putting things away, and he fell asleep asking himself what happened.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few weeks have passed, and things have gone semi-back to normal. There’s an awkward tension between them every session, every band practice, and the texts from her have stopped outside of letting him know of any changes to the schedule. Natasha could tell something was going on with her backseater, but he wouldn’t budge. He just told her it was nothing and that he was fine. But anyone with any common sense could see he wasn’t fine, he was distracted at work, he didn’t have the band members over for dinner, and he just seemed lost in thoughts every time someone talked to him at Hard Deck. But Natasha wasn’t having it, so she contacted Y/N, she told her Bob was acting strange. Y/N let her know what happened, and that she felt as if the kiss had only happened because Bob was emotional. She also let it slip to Nat that she had been harboring a crush on Bob since they first met, and despite trying to ignore it, it continued to grow. Nat told her the band should perform at the Hard Deck that weekend, and Y/N agreed only if Bob was okay with it. She texted Bob and he decided it was time to overcome the fear of the Dagger Squad knowing he was in a band. If he couldn’t overcome the fear of telling her how he felt, and how the kiss made him feel, then he could at least do this. And so it was set, the group would be performing at the Hard Deck, and Bob let that distract him from whatever else he was feeling at the time.

Saturday finally came, and Bob was a ball of nerves. He was sure the squad wouldn’t be too harsh towards him, but when it came to Hangman, he could never tell. When he arrived at the bar to do sound checks, he saw her again and a bit of his nerves calmed. She looked at him with a gentle but nervous smile “Hey Bob, glad you made it. We’re just gonna run through a few songs, and then we’ll get going with the show. I also brought a new song, it’s not too much but it will be the last song for the night.” He nodded his head, a bit lost in her eyes. He pushed his glasses up a bit and got his drums set up. After sound check, people started filling in the bar. Nat came up to him with a bit of a smirk, “I know about your kiss with Miss Gorgeous Singer up there.” She then lightly punched his arm, “Why wouldn’t you tell me, Bob? This is important information and I thought we were best friends.” She had a faux pout on her lips now and he shrugged, “I don’t know what happened Nat, it was going so well and then she just ran out.” He looked down, twirling his drumsticks, and she realized he was quite upset. She’s guessing the two idiots haven’t even talked about it. “I’m sorry Bob, but hey maybe things will work out after tonight,” she said with a comforting smile. It was at that moment, Jake, Javy, Bradley, and Mickey realized it was their own “Baby on Board” on the drums for tonight.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Jake said with his usual smirk on his face. “Cut it bagman.” Natasha quickly replied, she realized it was time for the band to start so she gave Bob a final comforting smile, then quickly pushed Jake and the rest of the guys back.

You got on stage and introduced the band. The show started and everything was going well. Bob was keeping up, concentrating hard and using the quick time between songs to push his glasses up his nose. Finally it was time for the new song, and he was a bit nervous, seeing as they hadn’t rehearsed it yet. He heard you clear your throat as you said “Hey y’all, this last song is a new one I wrote about a week ago. Sometimes you just meet someone and realize you will always be there for them no matter what.” With that, you looked back to the group and nodded to let them know it was time to start.

I’m the watermelon slammed into your driveway

Crack me open so I feel the air inside me

Bob stared at her while playing and realized that in someway, she had cracked his introverted shell. She helped him become more comfortable. She even was a huge reason he had a group of people who cared about him, outside of the dagger squad. He quickly looked at Natasha in the crowd, just to see her smirking right at him.

Music boyfriend I’m your yum yum

Call me and I’ll come

Y/N’s words from weeks prior echoed in his head as she sang, “If you need anything please know I am a call away.” And it hit him in this moment that maybe just maybe, she did feel the same way about him.

Am I dreaming or did you just kiss me

You don’t know it but you already miss me

He looked back at her and realized she was looking at him. Singing this song to him. She had a bashful smile on her face, and he could tell she was a nervous.

Fuck the rest of them

Fuck em all

Fuck em all but us

In this moment, everyone else in the bar seemed to fade away. It was just them, and he made the decision to admit what he was feeling after the show. She was breathtaking, and he thinks he may not make it if he doesn’t tell her tonight. She finally turned away in time to sing the last line to the crowd.

Fuck em all but us.

When the song ended, the bar was full of applause, even the squad looked impressed by the show. Bob watched her walk off stage after saying her thank yous, and head for the back deck. He got up to follow but was immediately stopped by the Dagger Squad, they were all patting him on the back and smiling at him. “Didn’t think you had it in you Bob, but that was truly amazing. And it seems as if the singer thinks so too.” Jake said to him with a genuine smile on his face. Natasha pushed Jake out of the way and gave Bob a hug, pulling away she said “Go get her, we’ll all still be here when you get back.” With that Bob gave a quick thank you and rushed toward the back door.

He saw y/n standing there, arms crossed over the railing and head up to the sky. When she heard the door open, she turned her head and she had a sheepish smile on her face. He thought she looked so beautiful, a bit sweaty from the show, the moon as backlighting. Her beauty rivaled that of the ocean. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word.

“You did good tonight Bobby. Thank you for letting us come play here.” She said softly as he made his way over to her. He felt warmth crawl up his neck at the use of his nickname, and he put his hand on his neck as he told her “You were gorgeous tonight.” She gave a soft laugh and bashfully turned her head. Before she could respond he continued talking, “Thank you. For everything. You invited me to this band, not even knowing if I was a good drummer. You texted me daily just to make sure I was doing okay. You made me possibly the best food I’ve had in forever. Don’t tell my ma I said that, she would never let me live it down.” He chuckled while saying that, he took a deep breath in and continued, “You have changed me as a person, so thank you.” She looked back at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. She had tears lining the bottom of her eyes, as she rushed over to hug him. “I’m so sorry I ran out of your apartment that night. I was nervous you were only kissing me because of the emotions from the movie and the tiredness. But that kiss meant everything to me. I haven’t stopped thinking about it or you since it happened.” Her speech was a bit muffled from the way she was pressed to Bob. Now it was his turn to look a bit shocked, he hadn’t even thought about how she might have thought it was all her fault. He held her and said“Darlin’ I think we’ve both been a bit idiotic. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I met you, and after that night I thought I messed everything up. I truly like you, I think I might even be falling in love with you if I’m honest.” She pulled back a bit and looked him in the eyes for the slightest sign that he could be lying, when she couldn’t find one she put her hand on his neck and pulled his lips to hers. This kiss was different. This kiss held all of the unspoken feelings they’ve both kept bottled up for months. He grabbed her hips and pushed her back against the railing, she opened her mouth to gasp, allowing his tongue to slip inside.

She tugged at his hair and he let out a quiet groan. Just as he was making way to pick her up, the loud noise of several nosey aviators cheering burst their bubble. She pulled back and leant her forehead on his chest, shying away a bit. He turned back to see the group smiling, clapping, whooping, and hollering. He turned back towards her and lifted her face up to his, “I’m sorry about them. Also I’m sorry I feel like I’m doing this a bit backwards, but would you like to go out for dinner soon?” He felt a bit nervous asking the question but she just looked at him like he hung all the moon and stars. “Sure, how about we go talk to your friends for a bit, then go pick up some food, and maybe finish what we start at your place?” She asked with a flirty smirk on her face. Yeah she was going to be the death of him.

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd #lewis pullman #bob floyd x female reader #top gun maverick #top gun bob #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd angst #bob floyd fic #top gun maverick fic #tgm

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avastrasposts · 8 months ago

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A Baker's Dozen**

Ezra part two

Ezra’s chapter finished second in the poll about who should return to the bakery, and it made me so happy. I'd never written Ezra before and he was a challenge! But the story came together well with the help of his language and personality. But it was also sadder than I planned it to be, and I really wanted to revisit him and continue the story. So please enjoy part two!

(I'm editing and posting this in slightly more unconventional circumstances, so please excuse any errors!)

With a sigh you lock the front door of the bakery and flip the ‘Closed’ sign to face outwards. It had been a long weekend, lots of customers, and not all of them very polite. And to make matters worse, your shop assistant, the high schooler who’d worked extra on weekends, had been accepted at the last minute into their first college of choice and this was your first weekend without them. You’re exhausted and looking forward to your day off tomorrow.

The knock on the back door makes you jump just as you turn off the lights in the shop. Cautiously you walk to the back room and stop by the door.

“Hello?”

“It-it’s me, Ezra,” comes a muffled voice in a stutter from the outside, “P-please…I..”

You don’t need to hear more, you rush to the door and unlock it, throwing it open and the man on the other side almost loses his balance, propped up against the door frame. His appearance makes you gasp, reaching out to steady him as he wobbles. The stark blonde patch in his hair is plastered against his forehead, stained with blood from the cut just above his eyebrow, another cut marks his cheekbone, a bruise already blooming around it. From the way he’s curled his arm around his torso, you can tell something’s hurting his chest.

“Ezra, what happened?” you wince, helping him to step through the door, his face twisting in pain as he puts weight on his left foot.

He only grunts in response to your question, inhaling sharply as you carefully try to take his weight.

“Lean on me, let’s get you to the chair, I’ll call an ambulance, it’ll be ok,” you say, making him lean on you as much as you can as he hobbles into the kitchen and sinks down on the chair with a groan.

“No, no ambulance, I am not that badly off,” he says, shaking his head as you pull over the stool on wheels and make him put his injured leg up onto it.

“What happened, Ezra?” you ask again, sinking down to get a better look at him. He’s pale under his golden complexion, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

“It’s nothing, no matter, I just need to-,” he says, but even as he says it, he closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose, his hand tightening over his chest.

“Ezra,” you implore again, putting your hand on his uninjured leg, “you’ve turned up, injured and bloody, weeks after you disappeared, and you try to tell me it’s nothing? Do you think I’m that stupid?”

With that he peels his eyes open and looks down at you, and the pain in his eyes almost makes your heart stop.

“Ezra…” you implore again, softer this time, “be honest with me, I want to help, you know that.”

“I’m…I’m ashamed…” he whispers, his eyes falling to your hand on his leg, “you know what I am. I know I left you without explanation last time, after you were so kind to me. And here I am, needing your help again, because I have no one else to turn to.”

“Just tell me what happened, please, Ezra,” you say, “let me help.”

“I…I’ve…some men…” he begins, his eyes still on your hand on his leg, “I’d fallen asleep on the bus stop bench, and some men seemed to take offense,” he looks up at you, and you’re suddenly reminded of the mask Ezra is so skilled at pulling up over his true face, it’s firmly in place now, his hesitancy gone as he picks his words.

“They decided to make me leave by shoving me off the bench, and I twisted my ankle as I fell. When I couldn’t get up they roughed me up, threw me in a dumpster when they were done. I hurt my side trying to get out of it, fell badly when my foot gave up,” he gives you a humorless laugh, “Turns out climbing out of a dumpster with only one good arm and leg is rather tricky.”

“Ezra…that’s terrible, we need to get you to the ER, they need to check your chest, you may have broken ribs,” you make to stand up but his hand comes out and grabs yours before it leaves his leg.

“No, please, no, it’s not necessary,” he says, squeezing your hand, “I just need to clean the cuts and, if you have one, a bandage for my ankle so that I can at least stand on it while I make my way home.”

“You need to get your ribs checked, Ezra,” you reply, not taking a no from him, “and you might need stitches on the cut over your eye, it looks deep. Please,” you add as you see him shake his head again.

“Sweet girl, I can’t, please just let me get cleaned up and I’ll leave, I won’t impose on you again.”

“Ezra, you’re not imposing, except with your stubbornness, I’m taking you to the ER and that’s it. I’m not letting you leave without getting looked at by a professional.” You pull your hand from his and reach for your coat and he gives a forced little chuckle, smiling without mirth, his hand coming up as if to make a dismissive gesture in the air, but you stop him. .

“And don’t try that act with me, Ezra, I spent enough time with you last time to know when you’re lying, either to protect yourself or me.”

His hand falls back down, his shoulders slumping, “Your eagerness to help does you credit, but you don’t understand,” he says as you shrug into your coat.

He’s shaking his head, staring down at his solitary hand, picking at a fleck of blood on his stained pants, and you wait for him to press out the words. His words failing him in a way that is so far from his usual unstoppable stream that it makes you stop and look down at him with even more concern as he continues to pick at the blood.

“I…I simply don’t…I don’t have the…means, I just…can’t pay it,” he stutters, clenching his fist tight, his voice defeated, “I have no insurance…I don’t even have a valid driver’s license, they will not even let me in…” He doesn’t meet your eyes as you move closer to him, but he shakes his head again, his shoulders lifting up to his ears as the tension builds in his body, “No address.”

You sink down in front of the chair, taking his hand, stilling it against his leg, unraveling his fist as he sighs again.

“I’m as homeless as an alley cat, you see, sweet girl. I’m ashamed to say I have nothing, nothing to my name.” His voice is low, eyes downcast, and he doesn’t take your hand even though you wrap your fingers around it.

“I guessed,” you say, your voice low, trying to make him meet your eyes, “But you still need help, and I can take you to the clinic down by the church. They can check you out and get you more help, free if you need it,” you give his hand a squeeze, “Please, Ezra,” you implore, “let me help.”

You sit quietly next to the chair for a few seconds while Ezra seems to fight something inside him, his jaw ticking with the tension. With a small grunt, he finally gives you a short nod, his shoulders sinking down again, “You’re too good for this world, sweet girl,” he mutters, taking your hand properly and letting you help him to his feet.

“Not at all,” you reply, getting him to put his arm over your shoulder as you help him limp to the back door again, “but you’re my friend, and you need help whether you want to accept it or not. And I can be a lot more pigheaded than you.” The last you say with a smile in your voice as you help him down the back stairs. And it gets a small chuckle out of him before he winces at the pain.

You get him to sit in the back seat, his injured leg elevated as he grumbles about getting dirt in your car. Rolling your eyes in response, you strap yourself in and reverse out. Ezra shifts in the back, trying to get comfortable, in the rear view mirror you see him gently touch the cut over his eye that’s still bleeding.

“Would you recognise the men who did it?” you ask, looking back at the road.

“Maybe, but I’m not talking to the police,” Ezra replies, guessing what you’re thinking, “They don’t care about someone like me, I’m more likely to get into trouble for bringing their attention to my lack of address.”

“I was just thinking, maybe they make a habit of it, attacking sleeping people, they should be stopped.”

“Not by me, sweet girl, I don’t have enough fight left in me for that.”

You glance back at Ezra again, he never sounded so defeated the last time you saw him, and now he’s leaning his head against the window, staring into nothing, looking utterly forlorn.

Letting the subject rest, you drive in silence the rest of the short way to the clinic.

A nurse comes over as she spots you and Ezra coming through the door and soon he’s been told to lie back on a stretcher while you hover awkwardly nearby.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” you ask him as the nurse leaves to find the doctor on call for the evening.

“Only if you wish to,” he says, dropping his head back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling, “thank you for escorting me, but it’s not necessary to wait, I can manage on my own now. You should go home.”

“Ezra,” you hiss, keeping your voice low in the open room, only curtains separating his bed from his neighbors, “quit being such a pigheaded martyr, you’re such an idiot.”

His eyes snap to yours when he hears your anger, and you continue, “If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t have opened the door in the first place, and I certainly wouldn’t have cried for a week after you disappeared the last time.”

His eyes widen at this and he opens his mouth to say something but you don’t let him.

“I’m staying. And you’re coming home with me when we’re done here. No arguments, so you can just hold that clever tongue of yours.”

Ezra closes his mouth and opens it again, meeting your glare with astonished eyes as he fumbles for a reply. But before he has time to compose himself, the curtain around the bed is pulled to the side and the doctor appears, followed by the nurse.

Ezra doesn’t protest any more as the doctor treats him. With a small bag of over the counter painkillers in your hand, and a crutch under his one arm, he slowly follows you back to the car without a word. Luckily no fractured rib, but a sprained ankle and a few strips of surgical tape over his two cuts is the tally of the beating, and you’re grateful it’s not worse. You’re even more grateful Ezra found his way back to you for help. You’ll be damned if you’ll let him go back to the streets, even if you have to shackle him to a radiator in your house. Ezra seems to realize this, and doesn’t say anything as you stop at a supermarket on the way home, and return to the car with a toothbrush and various other supplies he might need for his stay with you.

He doesn’t speak until you’ve closed the door behind the both of you and he’s hobbled into your living room. You put the painkillers on the coffee table and turn to help him sink down on the couch.

“Thank you. Truly,” he says, as you put a cushion under his leg, propping it up on the low table.

“Don’t fight it so much next time,” you tell him, “people are nice sometimes.” Straightening up you change the subject as your stomach rumbles, the time for talking is later, “Are you hungry?”

He nods, “Very.”

“I’ve got some leftover pasta sauce and bread, I’ll heat it up for us,” you say, leaving him on the couch. But it doesn’t take long before you hear him hobble after you into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the stools by the island.

“I apologize,” he says, “I was ashamed of showing you how pitiful my life is, both when we met last time, and today. I…I find it hard to accept help, I don’t want to burden anyone with my plight, it was my own foolishness who brought me to this low point. I should carry the consequences of my actions and not burden you with them.”

“Ezra…” you say softly, trying to keep any trace of pity out of your voice, “we all make bad choices, or just have a run of bad luck. Maybe next time I’m the one who needs help, and I hope someone is willing to give it then.”

He nods, but he still looks forlorn and you ache to put your arms around him, but you think he might see it as pity, so you give him a smile, and turn back to the stove.

“You should go back to the couch, Ezra,” you say, “put your leg up again, like the doctor said. I’ll bring you your food.”

“Will you join me on the couch for dinner?” he asks and it’s your turn to nod.

“Of course, I’m starving. Get comfortable, pick something to watch and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

When you return to the living room with two plates, Ezra has propped his leg up again and readily accepts a plate from you. Some nature documentary is playing on the tv and you gratefully sink down on your end of the couch and dig in. Ezra balances his plate on his lap and from the corner of your eye you can see him struggling with twisting the spaghetti onto his fork with his left hand. His eyebrows are pulled together in frustration and the fork clinks angrily against the plate.

You set down your own fork and leave for the kitchen, returning with a tray on legs, for having breakfast in bed.

“Here,” you say, putting it down and placing his plate on it, “Ask for help, Ezra.”

He gives you an indecipherable look, but you just return to your own plate, your attention on the rainforest birds on the tv.

“Thank you,” he says after a minute, looking over at you.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, giving him a quick smile that he returns, the first smile you’ve seen from him since he arrived back at the bakery.

The rest of the evening passes in companionable silence for the most part. You want to ask Ezra about where he’s been since you last saw him, how he’s been. You know why he didn’t return to the bakery, the other shop owners on the street certainly made it known that they didn’t trust him, and didn’t want him near. And you see now, even more clearly, how little value even Ezra places on himself.

I have nothing to give to anyone.

That’s what he’d written in his note to you, the day after his first visit. And it echoes in the back of your mind as you go over the events of the evening, stealing looks at Ezra sitting in the other corner of your couch.

He came back to the bakery when he was injured, but it seems even that had been a hard task for him, to ask for help, and then very reluctantly accepting it. He’d told you he lost his arm in a mining accident, but you don’t know if that was the true story or not. But whatever the truth is, you’re starting to understand the strange dark haired man with the odd blonde patch, a little bit better. He must’ve been fiercely independent before he lost his arm, capable, his skill matching his sharp intellect. And strong, if the shape of his wide shoulders and broad back is anything to go by. You can still remember how his muscles flexed and bunched under your exploring hands when he’d kissed you in the kitchen, a strength that hadn’t diminished when he lost his arm.

To lose that independence, and then his home, to be reduced to relying on others for help, even with the simplest things, it could turn any person bitter. And yet, the Ezra you met in the bakery, as wary as you’d been of him at first, had been warm and passionate, tender and gentle even. The mask he’d let slip while you baked together, had revealed a man you could fall in love with, even with the circumstances of his life twisting the person he showed the world.

You give him another look, his strong profile lit by the tv, his chocolate hair and beard longer and scruffier than before, more streaks of gray and the bags under his eyes heavy. But underneath the layers of grime, the stress of his life, he’s still a handsome man, albeit a little bit dirty right now. But that’s a problem for tomorrow you decide.

With a yawn you stretch and get to your feet, picking up the plates.

“I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket,” you say, “I left a new toothbrush in the bathroom, and a clean towel.”

“I can’t stay,” he says, predictably, and you ignore him, going back to the kitchen to put the plates in the dishwasher, turning it on before you return to the living room. Ezra is standing by the couch, the crutch under his arm.

“You’re staying, Ezra,” you interrupt him before he can protest, “You’re injured, and quite frankly, you’re dirty. Sleep here tonight, wash up in the morning, and then we’ll see.”

“Sweet girl…I can’t let you…” he begins but you shake your head.

“Do you think so little of me? That you think I’d let anyone, let alone an injured friend, sleep rough on the streets?”

Ezra looks back at your raised eyebrows and challenging look.

“Well?” you ask, “Do you think I’m that kind of friend?”

“No,” he says eventually, a small, exasperated smile, softening his face, “I know you’re not that kind of friend.”

“Good. Toothbrush and towel in the bathroom, go clean up, I’ll make your bed,” you point your finger in the direction of the bathroom and give him a stern look, softened by a crooked smile that Ezra returns.

“Yes, boss,” he says, and hobbles away.

Ezra beds down on the couch and you make sure his leg is propped up by a couple of extra cushions before you retreat to your own bed. You can hear him shifting on the couch, the old thing creaking under his weight, before you drift into sleep.

A loud crash startles you from your dreams hours later, early morning light coming through your curtains, and you shoot up in bed.

“Ezra?” you call out, scrambling out of bed, wrapping your gown around you as you hurry out of your bedroom. You find him by the open front door, cursing silently as he struggles to pick up the crutch from the floor.

“You’re sneaking out,” you state, stopping as you see him straightening up, the crutch still on the floor, his hand on the wall for balance.

“I’m afraid I have to depart, a pressing matter requires my swift attention this morning,” he replies, and oh, the mask is so clearly in place, the polite, apologetic smile, hiding the real man.

“What kind of pressing matter?” you ask, “Let me get dressed and I’ll drive you,” you challenge, crossing your arms and challenging him to just fucking dare to lie to you again.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” he smiles, wider now, even more apologetic, “I must converge with a most disagreeable drifter, a small matter of business I have with him that needs to be settled, I truly do not wish you to meet him. Such a rough, uncouth-”

“Ezra…” you say, your voice a warning, as you bend to pick up the crutch, holding out of his reach. It’s a dirty trick but he won’t get far without it.

“I assure you, sweet girl, I really need to depart, it would not be fortunate for you, or your excellent business, to be seen around town with myself, or this disagreeable man. I can’t bring this misfortune down on you after you’ve treated me with such kindness,” Ezra tilts his head, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes, the ringmaster at work, using his words to bend the audience to follow his ques, to believe his illusion.

You shake your head, and lean the crutch in a corner, away from him.

“You forget, Ezra, that you’ve bared more than you maybe intended to me, and I see what you’re trying to do,” you say, moving around him and closing the front door. “Your smooth lies don’t work on me anymore, I can see that mask you pull up whenever you try to bend me to your will.”

You stop in front of him, and he wavers, the smile, almost a leer, slips from his face. Carefully, as if he’s an animal you don’t want to spook, you bring your hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing across his scruffy beard.

“Ezra…you don’t need to fight so hard. Not with me.”

The mask is gone again, his determination to oppose your will melting away faster this time, and Ezra’s eyes fill with regret as he leans his face into your hand. You seek out his, hanging limp by his side and lace your fingers together, squeezing it lightly as you let him hold on to you for balance.

“I left you a note,” he whispers, “I’m truly grateful, I didn’t want to leave again without explanation.”

“What does it say?”

He sighs, closing his eyes briefly, “Same as I said last night, I don’t want to bring you more trouble, I have nothing to give, I don’t want to be a burden. And I know what you’ll say,” he looks up at you as he hears you inhale to berate him, “You don’t think I’m a burden, that I won’t bring you trouble. But I have not lived life honestly, and the people in this community know me as a trickster who cons them. It can only bring you trouble if they see you with me.”

“Have you stolen from them?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not from them, no. But I have stolen in the past, and not only what I needed of food and clothes. And I conned them, used their good hearts against them, they will not pardon me and see me as favorably as you do, sweet girl.”

You caress his cheek again, “Maybe it wasn’t honest, but it’s not like you forced them to give you things, just like you didn’t force me to make you a soufflé. Even though I realize I was probably just a con to you too.”

Ezra drops his eyes from yours at that, looking away as he gives you a small nod.

“It was a con, at first, I have to admit it. I was hoping for a loaf or two of bread, maybe something sweet, but…the soufflé, it wasn’t a con, I promise.” He looks up at you again, your hand has slipped from his cheek, down to his shoulder, he’s so close you can smell the toothpaste and his unwashed clothes, the antiseptic from the bandage on his cheek and forehead. You remain silent to let him continue, to see if his mask comes up again, or if he tells the truth this time.

“I told you that you captivated me, and that’s the truth, I was watching you the first day I came into the shop, you were decorating a cake, your concentration palpable, you were clearly very skilled. And knew if I conned you, I couldn’t come back, so I bought a croissant…and I left.” Ezra gives you a small smile at the memory, “You wouldn’t even know, but that croissant…it bound me to you, it was that perfect. I couldn’t help but keep going back, to watch you work, to taste more of what you’d made. And then you noticed me, and I should’ve left, but it was too late, I had already made a plan to trick you, another kind of trick.”

“What kind of trick, Ezra?” you ask and he gives you the smallest of chuckles.

“The kind that let me spend more time with you, to let me be seen as something else than the sad, homeless drifter my life has turned me into.”

He sighs, letting go of your hand to drag his rough palm over his face, rubbing at his eyes, “I’ve thought since that perhaps it was the worst of ideas, that I tricked myself more than you. I let myself step into a bubble of what could’ve been, if I had been a very different man, build a fantasy in my head where you…never mind,” he cuts himself off, leaning on the wall for balance as you seek out his hand again, “I never conned you, and I wish things were very different.”

“Ezra, I missed you when you left, and I was hurt and confused by your note and what other people said about you,” you say, taking his hand in both of yours, “but I trust you, even if you don’t believe me, I trust you. And I want you to stay, at least until you’re better, please stay this time.”

“But your neighbors, your shop…” he begins and you step forward, pressing your lips to his, silencing him. He holds himself rigid for a beat, before you feel his lips part with a soft hum.

“Fuck ‘em,” you whisper against him, “Please, Ezra, just be selfish with me.”

You don’t let him answer, but you feel his arm move, circle around your waist and you take it as a capitulation as he pulls you a little bit closer.

The kiss doesn’t last long, just a mark to pick up where you left off the last time in the bakery. Instead you pull back from him after a little while, retrieve the crutch and lead him back to the living room. The note, Ezra’s lopsided, left handed scribble on it, sits on the coffee table next to his makeshift bed.

“Do I need to read it?” you ask and he shakes his head, taking the paper and crumpling it.

“No, I’ll stay, at least until you bid me to leave.”

“Not while you limp, you’re stuck with me for a while, con man.” The last part you say with a wink, teasing him, and you’re rewarded by the dimple appearing on his cheek as he smiles, his face transforming.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be stuck, sweet girl,” he winks back.

The morning passes easily, now that he’s decided not to leave as soon as you give him a chance. You make breakfast, stacking the bacon high on his plate, an extra fried egg with the bread and mushrooms, three sausages on the side and a large glass of orange juice.

“Sweet girl, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you stopped me from leaving just to give me a heart attack instead,” Ezra says, eyes bulging as you set the plates down on the coffee table in front of him.

“No offense, but you look like you haven’t been eating that well. Let me spoil you while I can,” you reply, sitting down in front of your own, smaller, serving.

"You’re not mistaken, and no offense taken, it has been a few arduous months,” he says while cutting into the food, humming in satisfaction as the yolk smears the bread. It’s the last you hear from him for a while, the food takes all his attention as he works his way the whole plate, even the extra mushrooms and bacon you slide over. Eventually he leans back, balancing a fresh mug of coffee on his belly, letting out a deep sigh.

“I fear I may burst if I eat another bite,” he huffs, his little tummy expanding as he takes a deep breath, “As usual, you’re too good to me, cream puff.”

“I told you, enough with the baking related pet names,” you laugh, leaning back with your own coffee. “I think we agreed on ‘honey’ last time, but I like ‘sweet girl’ too.”

“Sweet as honey,” Ezra smiles, “such a delectable name for the most captivating of women, for someone with such compassion for the most miserable, unfortunate man. Although…” he tilts his head so that he can look over at where you’re curled up on the couch, “perhaps I’m not so unfortunate, I count myself the luckiest man to have wandered into your particular bakery and then even to be allowed to call you ‘friend’.” His smile is soft, “How did a wretch like me stumble into such fortune?”

“There is that charmer that stole my heart,” you smile back at him, “I’ve missed you, Ezra.”

“I did not want to leave you last time, but you understand now why I told you the illusion had to break?” He puts his mug on the table and takes your hand across the couch as you scooch closer to him.

“I understand, but I hope you know now, that you don’t have to leave, and I don’t want you too… however…” you trail off, as the smell of his unwashed clothes reaches your nose again, “you need to shower, and change…”

Ezra looks down at his clothes and frowns, “I have nothing to change into, but I do agree that these old breeches are somewhat on the smelly side. The rogues that roughed me up made off with my bag and the clothes within.”

“Ezra, you should’ve said, we could’ve bought you something yesterday,” you say, pushing off the couch and going to the hallway closet that holds your winter jackets, “I’ve got an old oversized sweatshirt, a relic from an ex, if you don’t mind?” You hold up the sweater and Ezra shrugs.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, if it fits, I will gladly wear it.”

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash,” you dig deeper in the closet, “these will probably fit, my brother’s old shorts, they’ve got paint stains from when we painted the bedroom, but they’re clean, I promise.”

Ezra accepts the clothes and retreats to the bathroom as you clear up the breakfast. You hear him run a bath, and even the satisfied groan as he sinks into it, making you smile as you load the dishwasher. But the disgruntled growl doesn’t sound good a few minutes later so you gently tap on the closed door.

“You ok, Ezra?” you ask and a grumble floats through the door as something clatters to the floor.

“I find that washing my hair, which it is in dire need of, is impossible with the way this bruise seems determined to burn a hole in my side. I can’t lift my arm high enough. And I only have one of those, as you know.”

“Can I help? Are you decent?”

“Sweet girl, I have no concerns about being decent in front of you,” he huffs, “You’ve already been privy to my very lowest state. Besides, your bubble bath really is very efficient.”

The last thing he says with a chuckle and you open the door. You’re met with Ezra laying back, no, Ezra laying back in resplendence, in your bathtub, all but covered by bubbles and a satisfied grin on his face.

“This bathtub really is a most colossal feature, I feel like I could go for a swim,” he smiles up at you as you bend to pick up the shampoo bottle from the floor.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, it’s half the reason I bought the house,” you say, sinking down behind him, “Can’t believe you got me washing your hair too, Ezra,” you mutter, but there’s no venom and Ezra hears the smile in your voice.

“I’ll repay the favor tenfold once I’m all healed up again, honey,” he says and scoots forward, giving you free access to his dark curls.

He’s like a cat, all but purring as you scrub his hair, letting your nails drag across scalp, rinsing it out once and giving it another wash. As you massage his head he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, you’re certain he’ll start snoring any second, and you gently tap his shoulder for him to sit up for a second rinse.

“Conditioner, sir?” you ask him with a teasing tone, as he moans.

Ezra opens one eye and looks up at you, “Are you mocking me, baker girl?”

“Only your obvious attraction to the skill of my hands, your moans are loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”

“Oh, I’ve always been attracted to the skill of your hands, in more ways than one, and I’m sure I can think of other uses for them too,” he winks and closes his eye again, leaving you with burning cheeks as his double entendre makes heat rise in your body.

As you rinse the conditioner from his hair you brush it back from his forehead, running your fingers through the blonde patch, stark white now that it’s properly clean. On impulse you bend down and place a kiss to it as you move to get up.

“All done, sir, enjoy the rest of your bath now.”

His hand comes up and grabs your wrist, surprisingly fast for someone right handed using their left, and he pulls you back down.

“Thank you,” he says in a low voice, bringing you close enough for him to reach up and return your kiss, warm lips pressed against yours for a moment.

“Anytime, Ezra,” you reply when he pulls back a little, your voice barely a whisper. You lock eyes for a few seconds, Ezra’s chocolate brown darkening as he rubs his thumb over the thin skin of your wrist.

“Anytime, sweet girl,” he whispers back and lets you go.

You feel unsteady as you leave the bathroom, slowly letting out a long exhale as you go back to the living room, aimlessly tidying, moving three books from one end of the room and back again twice before you realize what you’re doing and give up. Slumping down on the couch you turn back to the nature documentary from last night and try to zone out, but it’s no use. As you hear Ezra come out of the bathroom you shoot up from the couch and head to the kitchen, doing what you always do to calm your mind; bake.

The rest of the day passes without any more heated moments between the two of you. Ezra rests his ankle and you feed him, he complains that he can’t help you in any way, but you shush him and prop an extra cushion under his leg. From the corner of your eye, you see the soft smile he gives you as you turn back to the kitchen.

When it’s time for dinner you join him on the couch for the Great British Bake Off, a show Ezra is well familiar with but he’s missed most of the past seasons so the evening ends with you going back through the seasons and starting over. Before you know it, you’re lying down, your toes tucked in under Ezra’s warm leg while he absentmindedly strokes small circles on your calf. The whole scene is so domestic, he looks calm, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. His whole face transforms as he laughs at the tv, looking over at you to see if you’re laughing too. And you are, but mostly because it feels good to see Ezra so comfortable and content.

When it’s time for bed, you scoot over and kiss his scruffy cheek, smelling your shampoo on him.

“Sleep tight, Ezra,” you mumble, relishing the soft touch of his beard against your lips.

“Sweet dreams, sweet girl,” he mumbles back, giving your leg an extra squeeze, “Do you want me to leave in the morning?”

“Not even a little bit, stay.”

“Then I won’t attempt to slip out unnoticed again,” he says, a crooked little smile at you as you straighten up.

“Please don’t, waking up when something goes bang in the night is not my favorite way of waking up,” you say, “Night, Ezra.”

He does stay, the next day and the next and the one after that. You go back to the bakery on the second day, leaving Ezra sleeping on the couch and come back to find him making dinner, wobbling one foot, chopping a stubborn onion with his left hand. The next day he’s done all the dishes and made your kitchen spotless. You berate him for not resting his ankle but he just shrugs and smiles, his soft southern lilt becoming more pronounced as he tries to charm you into believing that his foot is all better now. When you scold him, he gives you the most insincere puppy eyes, mischief lurking just under the surface until you crack and smack his arm and laugh at him. You almost kiss him, his infectious chuckle, the way his dimple appears as his eyes crinkle. The evenings end like the ones before, tucked in on the couch with The Great British Bake Off, but on the third evening you yawn widely and he pulls you in, his strength no match for yours.

“Rest your weary head on my leg, sweet girl,” he says, putting a cushion propped up against his thigh, “don’t stay so far away.”

You do as he says, and he pulls the quilt down over you and rests his hand on your arm. His slow movements, calloused fingers softly gliding up and down over the quilt, lulls you to sleep and it’s not until Ezra gently shakes you, that you blink awake to the end of the episode, and you stumble to bed after kissing his cheek.

The next day you come home to find Ezra packed up, what little he has, in a plastic bag by the door.

“I reckon I’ve imposed on you long enough, sweet girl,” he says as you question him, “I still limp, but I can walk now.”

“You’re not imposing, Ez, you know that,” you reply, putting down your shopping and stopping in front of him on the couch as he gets to his feet, “I want you to stay for as long as you want.”

He is moving a lot better, you can’t deny that, but the cuts and the bruises are still visible on his cheek and forehead. The bigger bruise on his torso has faded into yellows and greens and doesn’t seem to pain him anymore.

“And besides, where would you go?” you ask. You don’t want to be unkind, but pointing out the obvious flaw in his plan of just leaving seems logical. “Stay here at least until you have a place of your own, you know I won’t let you leave just to sleep in a shelter or in a car.”

“Sweet girl, how long would that endeavor not take me? I have no employment, no money to my name, and without it, I have no choice but to find improvised shelter. And finding a job without an address is not easy, finding a job for a one-armed man? Impossible.” He shakes his head and moves around you, “No, I’d rather leave now, and leave you missing my company than stay and have you tire of my disagreeable old face.”

As he limps towards the front door you feel the slow gears of your brain working until it clicks into place.

“Ezra! I have a job for you!”

He turns and looks back at you, a pitiful smile as he shakes his head.

“Do not make up a job for me. Your kind heart does you credit but I won’t accept any more charity from you, sweet girl.”

“It’s not a made up job, Ezra, I need help at the bakery,” you say, “The high school student who worked extra left for college last week, this weekend was my first without them and I hardly got any baking done. I can’t manage the bakery and the shop at the same time, especially not since I'm going into peak season with weddings and graduations. I need someone to work in the shop and you could do that, even one handed I’m sure.”

“I fear it would not do your business any good to have me at the front of your shop, or do you forget how I conned my way around the last time?” Ezra shakes his head again, turning towards the door to pick up his sad bag of belongings.

“And if there’s anyone who can charm his way back into their good books, it’s you!” you protest, yanking the bag out of his hand. “I need someone who can start tomorrow, someone who understands baking and the things I make, and who is as passionate about it as I am. You’re the perfect fit, Ezra!”

You take a step closer to him, putting your hand on his cheek. You haven’t touched since the kiss in the bathroom, it’s just been a comfortable closeness on the couch. He seems to have been holding back, not wanting to impose another layer of complications to the situation of a homeless man sleeping on your couch. You, on your hand, have been squashing your feelings and urges to touch him, not sure what he feels, if he even wants you close, he seemed so intent on leaving as soon as he could. But now you touch him, stepping over the thin line you’d both drawn, needing him to understand how much you want him to stay, not just for the bakery or out of pity for him.

And Ezra leans his head into your hand as you gently caress his cheek, the scruffy beard soft under your fingers, as he looks down at you, something shifting in him too as you come so close to him he can smell the cinnamon from the bakery in your hair.

“I want you to stay, Ezra. I missed you when you were gone, and I need you, not just in the bakery, but I need you in my life too, if you could let yourself believe that.”

“I’m a selfish man,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rest on your waist, “I’ve been telling myself to not complicate your life, but if you offer it to me, I’ll take it.”

“Please, take it then, Ezra, I’m tired of trying to convince you that you’re worth something more, just take it, you-”

He cuts you off, his hand coming up to your cheek as his lips find yours, pushing you back against the wall with his body as your brain catches up, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers finding purchase in his hair and kissing him back.

You sigh into his mouth when he makes you part your lips, claiming your tongue the same way you remember from the bakery, the feeling you’ve been dreaming about since he left. He groans softly, his hand slipping down from your neck and curling behind your back to hold you even closer.

“Tell me again, I want to hear you say it again, that you want me to stay,” he whispers, pulling back just a little and looking at you with his dark brown eyes, filled with need, darkening with lust as you press your mouth to his lips.

“Pigheaded fool,” you smile, “How many times do I have to say it? I want you to stay.”

His responding groan, his mouth opening to let you taste him, sends a sharp jolt of desire through your body. Turning off all rational parts of your mind, you reach behind you and take his hand, pulling him with you through the house. When lead him into your bedroom he falters, an uncharacteristic shyness, or maybe uncertainty, flashing across his face.

“Sweet girl…” he whispers as you pull him onto the bed, making him tumble over you as he loses his balance, “it’s…been so long.”

“Do you want to, Ezra?” you ask, as he holds himself over you on his one arm.

“Yes, very much, I have dreamed so many nights of taking you to bed,” he breathes, his voice low, laced with both trepidation and lust, “I just never surmised you would ever want me like this, and I’m not sure these old broken bones could ever give you the pleasure you deserve.”

“How about we try out your old broken bones and let me judge how much pleasure they give?” you tease him, running your hands down his back, still as broad and muscular as you remember. He chuckles at that, some of the tension slipping from his face as you continue to stroke his soft shirt, tangling your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck, and then back down to his waist again. He puts his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and you can feel his warm breath over your lips, a slow exhale as he relaxes under your palms.

When you slip your hands under the edge of his shirt and pull it off he hesitates, the stump of his arm has always been hidden by his clothes or the bubbles in the bathtub that one time, now you sense his unease again.

“Do you want to keep your shirt on?” you ask, letting go of the hem and resuming your path up and down his back.

“No, no I want to feel your skin against mine,” he mutters, “I’m just afraid…you might find it…repulsive.”

With gentle hands you take hold of his shirt again and push it up his torso, making him roll over onto his back as you pull it over his head, freeing both his arm and the scarred stump. Ezra watches you with dark eyes, apprehensive in a way you’ve never seen him before, watching your reaction as you lean down and place a soft kiss on the scar tissue that covers the end of his arm.

“I’m sorry you lost it, Ez, but I’m glad you’re still here,” you whisper, placing another kiss on the rough texture before his large, remaining, hand cups the back of your head and guides you up to his mouth, his hot tongue seeking yours.

Now it’s his turn to tug at your shirt and you slip it off, tossing it over the side of the bed, letting your bra go the same way. As you sit up, straddling his narrow hips, the apex of your thighs rubs over the growing hardness in his pants, he growls and grabs your hip, rolling his own up into you. You gasp and Ezra pulls himself upright, his eyes now fully dark, lust blown and all trace of hesitancy gone as he pulls your core down over his cock.

“Sweet girl, I’m determined to make you cry my name until your voice is hoarse,” he says, his voice rough and low with a layer of intensity you’ve never heard from him before, “I really have craved you so many nights, dreamt of having you unfold underneath me, make you moan so prettily in my ear again, like you did when I kissed you before.”

He cups your sex with his hand, bringing the heel down over your sensitive nerves, making you ride it through the denim of your jeans, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His mouth leaves heated, wet marks on your skin when he sucks bruises into your collar bone. Hand moving over the buttons, he peels down the zipper and you feel him slide down inside your pants, fingers meeting flesh as he ignores your underwear.

“What if I can make you cry ‘Ezra’ in that delicious moan, make you pant for me, with just my fingers buried in your cunt?” he growls, hot breath on your skin, “Will that prove me worthy of your devotion?”

“You-you…already a-are…” you gasp, his fingers slipping further down, thumb finding your swollen bundle of nerves, two of his thick fingers sliding deep inside and curling back. You feel him chuckle against your throat when you buck your hips, demanding more.

“Fuck, Ezra…” you moan, head tipping back, his beard scraping over your throat as he sucks another mark into the thin skin of your neck.

“Let me feel you fall, sweet girl,” he mutters, pulling back, his dark eyes finding yours half closed, blissed out, “So beautiful, captivating, my sweet girl.” He looks hungry, greedy, and he surges forward, seeking out your skin again. You feel his teeth nipping on the curve of your jaw as he curves his fingers deep inside you, finding a spot that sends stars through your veins. Your fingers dig into his broad shoulders, leaving fresh marks on his flesh as he brings you closer to the peak.

“My sweet girl,” he purrs, close to your ear, his thumb rubbing tight circles, “come for me, honey, I’ve got you.”

It topples you over, his dark voice tickling your mind into submission, your back arching, pushing down on his fingers as he brings you through it. You cry out his name, pant it into the dim room, and he licks his tongue over your sweat salt skin.

“Ezra…” you croak, dropping your head onto his shoulder as he slowly caresses your slick folds and pulls out, his sticky hand curving around your waist and landing on your back. It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breath, Ezra mumbles into your ear, his words wrapping around your brain, trapping them in the haze of your orgasm. When you turn your head and scrape your teeth over the thin skin of his neck, your tongue licking the edge of his ear, his breath hitches, interrupting his torrent of sweet nothings. Against your core you can feel his cock twitch, ignored and aching.

“Take your pants off,” he says, the command soft in his voice, “And take mine off too.”

It doesn’t take long for you to rid the both of you of the rest of your clothes. Ezra hisses as you pull his cock free, letting your hand stroke it, catching the weeping head with the pad of your thumb before you stand up.

“How do you want me, Ezra?” you ask, returning from the bathroom with a condom in your hand. He’s flat on his back, his hand slowly moving up and down his cock as he watches you walk naked across the room.

“On my lap, my symmetry is sorely lacking in balance, I fear I might give you a bloody nose if I was on top,” he smirks, moving himself to sit against the headboard, giving his thighs an invitational pat.

“Just admit it, you’re lazy,” you wink at him, “just want me to do all the work.”

He grabs your hip and pulls you down, his hard length pushed up against the soft swell of your belly, “Oh, sweet girl, if I had both my hands I’d trap you beneath me and not let you leave until you were a quivering mess, begging me to let you come,” he smirks, kissing you hard when you bend your head down to him.

He rolls his hips, giving friction to his cock pressed between you, and you feel him hiss into your mouth, groaning deep in his chest.

You push back and unwrap the condom, slipping it on while he watches your hands with dark eyes. When you rise up on your knees, his fingers dig into your hip, his teeth capturing his bottom lip, biting down hard with a groan as you position yourself. With one hand wrapped around his twitching length, the other on his shoulder for balance, you stroke the head through your slick folds, watching Ezra let go of his lip, an almost animal snarl escaping him.

“My sweet girl, honey…” he pants, opening his mouth to continue, but you sink down over him, squeezing his length, and he groans, a low rumbling pressed up through gritted teeth, head tipped back, eyes closed. You feel him buck his hips, his hand guiding your hip, as he tries to fuck up into you and you hold on to his shoulders with both hands, stroking down over his arms, caressing both his good side and the edge of what remains on the other.

Ezra curls his arm around your waist and pulls you down, bucking up again with another groan. He sits deep inside you, making sparks run through your veins, the feel of him giving you as much pleasure as his graveled groans and panting breath. .

“I’m not going to last,” he mumbles, biting his lip again, “I’m…you feel…f-feel so good.”

You roll your hips over him, your clit rubbing against the dark curls at the base, moaning as he bucks up, rubbing over something electric deep inside. The sight of his face tilted back, eyes half closed in bliss, as his arm sits like a vice around your waist, it brings you to the edge of your own climax much faster than anticipated. Your thighs are protesting, sweat drips down your back, and Ezra claims your mouth again, while you work yourself up and down over his slick cock.

He’s rambling, mumbling into your mouth between licks of his tongue, he’s getting messy, kissing the corner of your mouth, down your jaw, burying his face into the crook of your neck while he grinds against you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he cries out, his body going rigid underneath you, a hoarse shout against your skin and your own climax explodes. You know you’re leaving marks on his skin, but you can’t let go, Ezra is rolling his hips up, pumping himself into you as best he can, pulling you down onto him.

As your muscles relax you feel him loosen his grip on you too, and you drop your head down on his shoulder, caressing his back, his arms, pressing slow kisses into his sweat damp skin.

“My sweet girl,” he mutters, kissing the mark he left on your shoulder, “my sweet, sweet girl,” heavy breaths still making his chest rise and fall as he pants.

You rake your fingers through his damp curls and lift yourself off him, helping him handle the condom and toss it. Ezra stretches out and you curl into his side, sighing deeply and closing your eyes.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch anymore,” you mumble into his chest, and you hear the chuckle rumble under you between deep breaths, still recovering.

“I’m sure we’ll figure out other usages for the couch if you intend to keep this up with my broken old bones,” he says, smiling, his eyes closed as he begins to caress what he can reach of your back.

You both lie in peaceful silence for a little while, your breathing returning to normal, and your bodies cooling down. When the air raises goosebumps on your skin, you pull the covers over you both, and Ezra makes you curl closer to him.

“You really don’t find it repulsive?” he asks after a while, and tilt your head to look up at him, you know what he’s referencing. His dark eyes are turned to you with a questioning look, the smallest hint of worry clouding his forehead.

“No, I really don’t,” you say, moving your hand so that you can caress the scars at the end of his severed arm, “It’s just skin, or proof that you’ve survived something very difficult, why would I find it repulsive? I’m very happy you survived it.

Ezra places his lips on your forehead, kissing you softly while his one good arm pulls you in tighter.

“Thank you.”

“There you go, Mrs Levinson, all set for the weekend, I envy your guests, you sure do spoil your grandchildren! But I know you would spoil me just as well if turned up on your doorstep like a stray dog.”

Ezra gives the elderly lady his warmest smile and a wink, mischief twinkling in his eye as she returns the wink.

“Ezra, you scoundrel,” she giggles, “you know you’re both always very welcome for dinner any day, and I’ll make sure to spoil you rotten.”

“Never would I be so uncouth as to impose such inconvenience on you, Mrs Levinson,” he replies, a hand on his chest in mock shock, “You should come to our house, I’ll cook my famous one armed bandit stew,” he grins and Mrs Levinson giggles again.

“Oh Ezra, you really do brighten my day, you’re such a treasure to have around,” she titters, collecting her shopping bags, “And I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer.”

“You’re too kind, Mrs Levinson, enjoy the rest of your day now, you hear!” he smiles as she gives him a wave and steps out through the front door.

Ezra turns and heads back into the kitchen, where you’re preparing the final batch of millionaire’s shortbread, sprinkling chopped peanuts over the melted chocolate.

“I may have invited Mrs Levinson for dinner,” he says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist, “Said I’d make my stew.”

“I heard,” you reply, “your famous ‘one armed bandit stew’? You’re too much, Ez,” you laugh as Ezra chuckles.

“I did always have a flair for marketing,” he smirks, "maybe we should rename the bakery too, make it official.”

“Make it official that the scandalous baker and her ‘one armed bandit’ are in it for the long haul?” you ask, turning around so that you’re facing him and can see his warm smile as he looks down at you.

“Are we in it for the long haul, my sweet girl?” he replies, bending down to brush the strong curve of his nose across your check, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Well, it’s been two years, and you haven’t tried leaving again, so I think I finally made you realize I want you around,” you mumble as he nudges your head to the side to make better rooms for his kisses.

“You’re stuck with me now, sweet girl,” he mutters, “do you regret it?”

“Not even a little,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into his soft curls and he chuckles.

The bell over the door jingles and Ezra straightens up.

“Go on, Ez, go charm another customer into buying more than they need.”

“Yes, boss,” he smirks, pressing a final quick kiss to your lips before he hurries back into the shop.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, how may I help you on this most beautiful day?”

Part Fifteen

Specifically tagging my Ezra mentor @morallyinept !

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#prospect ezra #ezra x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #ezra fanfiction

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avoxrising · 11 months ago

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The Feral One • Ch 28

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

This may be the last chapter for a few days as we’re approaching the end of the story rapidly and I haven’t finished editing it yet lol. I apologize for leaving it off with a cliffhanger but I want to make sure the end is perfect before posting it. Life’s been busy this week so I haven’t had the time to finish it the way I want to.

Content Warnings - Injury, death, medical issues, I promise Finnick isn’t being stupid this time lol

The next week was full of recovery. You slowly regained your strength and were able to try solid foods again. The doctors polished all your scars off, including the one on your face from your games, at your request. You wanted nothing left to remind you of them.

You started physical therapy, as well as regular sessions with Dr. Aurelius. He allowed Finnick to join you, realizing you felt more comfortable with him nearby. You still had to use a walker to get around, but you were making progress.

A few weeks after the war ended, Coin called all the victors into a meeting. There were barely any left, mostly due to the war.

“I’ve called you all here for a very symbolic vote,” she states. You don’t like where this is going.

She proceeds to pitch her idea for a hunger games featuring capital children. There are mixed reactions from the remaining victors, with some believing the idea to be fair and others believing it to be cruel. Votes are cast around the room and it finally comes down to Katniss.

“I get to kill Snow,” she tells Coin, who agrees to this proposition.

“Then I vote yes,” she states. “For Prim.”

You can’t even process what this means. Another games? Was Coin out of her mind? You finally realized what you had been denying all along, as long as Coin was in charge, you would never be free.

Finnick brings you back to your shared room after the meeting. You allow his touch but still flinch away at everyone else. Dr. Aurelius had been working with you on that but it’s hard to undo the trauma of many years.

“I just want to go home,” you tell him.

“You have to stay here for a bit,” he explains. “District 4 doesn’t have the resources for your treatment. Once you are better I promise you can go back to 4.”

“What about you?” you ask him. “Are you staying?”

He hesitantly shakes his head.

“I have to go to 4 for a few weeks but I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he states. “Johanna will be here with you in the meantime and I’ll call every day.”

“You’re leaving?” you ask, dumbfounded by his response.

“I promise it’s for a good reason,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important.”

“When do you leave?” you ask.

“In two weeks,” he responds. “I’ll be here for the first bit of your treatment and return before it’s over. Then we will both go back to 4 together. Do you trust me?”

“Always”

That afternoon Finnick helps you walk out onto the avenue to stand next to the other victors. Snow was finally falling, and you were both alive to witness it.

Standing in front of all the capital people made you uneasy. What did they think of you? Were they going to hurt you?

You’re lost in your thoughts when suddenly the crowd erupts into chaos. You look up to see Coin lying dead on the podium, an arrow in her heart. A mob of people begins rushing towards Snow, eager to kill him.

Finnick quickly scoops you up and carries you away from the commotion. When he finally sets you down, you ask what happened.

“Katniss killed Coin,” he states. “Snow is dead.”

He has to take you back to your room before you have a breakdown. What evil creature was going to seize power of Panem next? All of this was too much.

You end up collapsing on the floor of your room, shaking uncontrollably.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @finnysmusic @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @faephoria @omwtkydttfym @iris1587 @sarcasm-and-stiles @10ava01 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @littleanubis21 @scorpiolystoned

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #thg finnick #mockingjay part 2 #the feral one #avoxrising

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merrybloomwrites · 7 months ago

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I Feel the Earth Move

Summary: Y/N experiences her first earthquake and her long distance boyfriend, Spencer, needs to know she's alright.

Word Count: 665

AN: I put a post out the other day that showed there's interest in Spencer stories. And then I felt an earthquake for the first time and got inspired to write this. Just a little story to get into the swing of writing for Spencer.

CW: earthquake

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One of the first things you had talked to Spencer about when you started dating was your shared experiences with hurricanes. Bit of a random topic, but with him being from Florida and you being from New Jersey, it was something you had in common. He then told you about the couple of earthquakes he’d experienced since moving out to Los Angeles. A tiny part of you was slightly jealous, but mostly you were happy you live in a place where the ground stays still at all times.

You’ve been dating Spencer for ten months now, but unfortunately, you’ve been long distance the whole time. Being on opposite coasts with a three-hour time difference makes things more complicated, but you’re looking forward to the near future when you finally get to move out to California. You work as a teacher and just need to finish the current school year and then you’re on your way to Los Angeles. You even have a new job and apartment lined up. Spencer sends texts nearly every day counting down until you’ll finally live in the same city.

It's early April, and your school is on Spring Break. You spent the week catching up on things you had been putting off, like doctor’s appointments and deep cleaning your closets. But now it’s Friday, and your to-do list is done. You’re having a lazy morning at home, sitting and watching some new Smosh videos that you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet.

Suddenly you hear the hallway door rattling. For a second you think it must be the wind, but then the floor starts to shake. Next thing you know everything is rattling. It only lasts a few seconds and leaves you just standing in the middle of your living room, wondering what the hell just happened.

You think that it might’ve been an earthquake, but that would be ridiculous. Because that doesn’t happen where you live.

But then your mom texts the family group chat asking if everyone felt that. Your brother, sister, and dad all text back saying they had. You do a quick google search and within minutes you find the confirmation that it was in fact an earthquake, so you share the link with your family.

The first person you want to tell is Spencer, but it’s not even 8 in the morning in California. You know he doesn’t need to be at work until later in the day and is likely still sleeping. You’ll wait a bit before texting him, so you don’t wake him up.

Twenty minutes later your phone starts ringing, and you’re surprised to see Spencer’s name pop up.

“Hey, what are you doing up so early?” You say as a greeting.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Of course I’m okay,” you reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the earthquake?”

“I was going to, I just wanted to wait a little while, so I wouldn’t wake you. How did you find out about it?”

“Like, eight different people from work texted me to ask if you lived where the earthquake happened. Y/N, you’re like, a mile from the epicenter. I needed to check that you’re alright.”

You’re overwhelmed with emotion at this, hearing how much he cares, and how worried he was about you.

“I’m okay Spencer, I promise. It wasn’t that bad. Honestly I was more confused than scared,” you reply.

“Well then we need to work on your survival instincts before you come to California,” he says, causing you both to laugh.

“Thank you for checking in on me,” you say.

“I’ll always make sure you’re safe,” he replies. Your heart melts again, and you can’t believe that he’s real. And that he’s really yours.

“I love you,” you say, unable to express your feelings at this moment in any other way.

“I love you too,” he replies, voice full of sincerity.

“Only 86 more days,” you state, giving him the countdown today.

“I can’t wait, baby.”

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AN: Thanks for reading! This is was just a little warm up to writing for Spencer. Please send me any requests you have for him! Also, please lmk if you'd like to be added to a taglist for all my Spencer stories!

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew

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wolfjackle-creates · 10 months ago

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Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! Ghost!Robin was the clear winner of last week's poll. Check out this week's poll if you want a say in what gets posted next. For any newer followers who aren't aware, the entire dinner scene has been written. I'm still working on getting it cross posted to AO3, though. That's going to be my next focus (once I finish editing the last chapter of The Two Ghost Motel, my EctoImplosion fic).

Story Summary: Jazz and Jason have been dating for a while. Long enough that it's time to meet the families. So a dinner at Wayne Manor is set up. Danny took great pains to manage all his Ghost King responsibilities so nothing ghostly would interrupt the meal.

But he wasn't expecting to see the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off Jason's shoulders.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

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Jason stared at the ceiling and counted his breaths. Next to him, Jazz’s breathing evened out as she slipped into sleep. Every time he let his mind wander, he saw the ghost grinning back at him. Signing with Bruce and Dick. Hugging Alfred.

Trying to take back his place in the family.

And of course everyone responded well to him! Bruce always hated the ways he’d changed since his death. And the ghost looked to be everything Jason had once been. Green shaded his vision and he grit his teeth.

A glance at Jazz, her face soft in sleep, made him let out a quiet breath and ease his way out of bed. A light in the living room proved he wasn’t the only one awake and, for a moment, rage burned hot in his chest. Why did Jazz’s brother have to come to Gotham and fuck everything up?

But he pushed that thought away. Danny hadn’t broken anything. Just revealed that Jason was even more broken than they had thought.

He stepped into the light and froze again when he saw the ghost sitting in front of Danny. The two looked over at him, silent.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grunted.

Danny huffed a laugh. “It’s a lot. Especially if you haven’t grown up around this stuff.”

Jason glanced back at the ghost and felt the pits rumble under his skin once more. They hadn’t been this active in years. Not since well before he’d met Jazz.

But there was a ghost who looked like him, was him if Danny was to believed, and he was trying to take over Jason’s spot in the family.

He let out an angry huff of air.

Only for the ghost to roll his eyes and sign for him to get over himself.

Jason was throwing a punch before he was even aware, only to almost fall on his face when his hand passed right through the figure. Who decided to point and laugh at him.

Jason scowled and made his way to the window. “I’m going out. I’ll be back eventually.”

“That… might not be a good idea.”

He paused, one foot on the window frame, and asked, “Why the fuck not?”

“It’s just… Robin’s tied to you. He can’t be too far from you and with the power I gave him, I don’t think he can turn invisible again yet.”

Jason growled and pulled himself back from the window and slammed it shut. He glared at the ghost. “Why the fuck do you have to come in and ruin my life now, just when things are starting to work out?”

The ghost, of course, glared back and signed that Jason had ruined his existence first by pushing their family away. All the while, he was making angry-sounding chirps and trills that had Jason bristling even more.

Then Danny was between them, holding out his arms. It felt like something was pushing down on his anger, trying to ease the pits away. He tensed, not trusting the feeling even as he couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay,” said Danny. “Clearly there’s more strong feelings going on here than I first expected. So, um, should I start explaining what I suspect now or should we wait for Jazz to wake up?”

Jason sat on the edge of an armchair, still tense, and waved him on. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Danny nodded. “So I’m no doctor. We’ll have to go to the yetis for real answers, but I can start with the basics.”

“Yetis?” Jason couldn’t help but ask.

Danny blushed. It tinted his skin green. He’d blushed red earlier, what did the change mean? “The yetis of the Far Frozen,” said Danny. “They’re the doctors I mentioned earlier. Their leader is named Frostbite and he’s been helping me out since, like, six months or something after I died. They’re the experts in part-dead, part-living biology simply by taking care of me. I don’t even think the fruitloop knows as much as them, no matter how much he likes to pretend.”

Jason closed his eyes and took a breath. Sometimes talking to people not trained in giving reports by Batman was a test of patience. He decided to let the fruitloop comment go. It didn’t sound like it’d be relevant to what he wanted to know—at least not yet. Maybe he could find out more and get a second opinion after meeting these Yetis. “So not only will you be taking me to another dimension, you’ll be taking me to a place called the Far Frozen where I’ll be looked at by yetis.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, basically. Jazz mentioned you liked to read. If you like, I could take you to the Ghost Writer’s lair after. He’s got a library that contains every book ever written and many that never got published. I’m not allowed in it after an incident the year I died, but he likes Jazz so I’m sure he’d let you in if you promised not to damage any of his books.”

Now Jason was staring for an entirely different reason. There was a place like that? That he could just go to?

A questioning trill made his attention snap back to the ghost and he tensed again.

“Yeah, Robin,” said Danny. “You, too, of course. Can’t bring Jason somewhere and not you, after all! Especially since you’ll both have to be present for the medical examination.”

Jason grit his teeth and forced himself to not flinch at Danny’s use of the name “Robin.” He refused to take his gaze away from Jazz’s brother and ignored the sounds the ghost was making. “When will we go?” asked Jason.

“Soon as Jazz wakes up, if you want. No reason not to. And there’s a few things I’ll have to do in the Realms anyway. I was expecting to be away a single night, not however long this”—he gestured between Jason and the ghost—“will take.”

“But they can fix me, right?” asked Jason. He needed the answer to be yes. That ghost couldn’t be allowed to ruin the fragile peace he’d established with his family or the life he wanted to start with Jazz.

To his frustration, Danny just shrugged. “I’m not a doctor, Jason. I don’t know what they’ll find when they examine you. But they’ll know more than anyone else in either this dimension or the Realms.”

“But you have suspicions.”

“I do.” Danny took a breath. “Remember the sensor? Actually, let me just pull it up now.” He rummaged through his bag and pulled it out.

Jason made an annoyed grunt at the delay, but didn’t say anything as the seconds dragged on while Danny turned it on.

After what felt like ages but was really less than a minute, Danny moved closer so Jason could see the screen.

“See, here’s me.” Danny pointed to a bright orange blob on the screen. “And that’s you, he pointed to a mostly purple blob, half as bright as Danny. But mixed through the purple were shoots of orange and blue. The three shades turned mostly orange as they extended from his body to a mostly blue shape. But orange and purple twined as inextricably through the ghost as it did through Jason. Danny pointed to the blue. “And that’s Robin. You’re mostly purple which means you’re liminal. And a brighter purple than I’ve ever seen outside of Jazz and my closest friends. Robin is mostly blue which marks him as an unknown ghost. I’ll be updating the system soon so he shows up as a friendly, known ghost. But what’s interesting is this part between you. You’re connected by ectoplasm that most closely mimics halfa ecto. And there’s currently only three known halfas in existence.”

“You think we’re a halfa, like you.”

“Either that or you have the potential to be a halfa. But, really, we’ll need to go to Frostbite to know for sure.”

“I just want him gone.” Jay would argue to a second grave that it wasn’t a whine, but he was glad none of his siblings were here. Or Jazz.

The ghost let out a series of angry trills and signed at him. Which Jason easily ignored by simply closing his eyes and cradling his face in his hands as he worked on forcing back the pits.

“I don’t think it’s going to work that way, I’m afraid,” said Danny, echoing Jason’s worst fears.

-----

Jason is having A Time™️. Will it get better?

I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so this will be the last update I do the tag list for. Especially since it's been so long since I've updated, I feel kinda bad tagging all of you! But if you still want update notifications, please check out the subscription post.

Tag List Part 1:

@addie-lover-of-stories @justwannabecat @gin2212 @amercurio @regonold @overtherose @readerzj @sjrose1216 @echoednonny @deeterzz @blu-lilac @number-one-jew @rowanaway-fromthisbs @vythika96 @tired-yet-awaken @themirrorghost @emeraldcorpral @all-mights-asscheeks @darkhinauniverse @blep-23 @phandomhyperfixationblog @larkcoe1 @thegatorsgoose @job-ross-the-second @britcision @lenacraft @bubblemixer @androgynouslordofescapism @purefrickingspite @leftmiraclechaos @lizisipancardo @starlight-sparks @miraculousandmore @gildedphoenix @sometimesthingsfallapart @letmesayfuxk @phoenixcatch7 @skulld3mort-1fan @abaowo @dhampir-princess @idkmrpianoman @sarina-elais @ballzfrog-blog @undead-essence @spookytragedyshark @flyingpansaurus @akintoabitch @marivictal @8-29pm @justreadingthefanfics @happybear135 @kisatamao @spoopyspoony @adorablechaos @sara0055 @screamingtofillthevoid

#dpxdc #anger management ship #jason todd #danny fenton #ghost!robin #jason feels like things are falling out of control #just when he finally managed to get himself settled #and happy #so he is not having a good time #what will frostbite think of his situation?

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rylem33 · 2 months ago

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The Root of Malice

Here's a new one from me. I hope you enjoy! I've updated my blog homepage as there were some of my posts not showing. So head over there if you want to read any of my 100+ stories. And, as always, feedback is welcome. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ella sat comfortably in the campus library, nestled in a cozy corner. The scent of books lingered in the air as she flipped through another dusty find.

Across from her, Sam leaned back in his chair, grinning as he scrolled through his phone. They had spent the last half hour quietly teasing each other, their occasional laughter breaking the usual silence of the library. Sam, ever patient with her whims, loved these little moments with Ella, even if they were spent surrounded by piles of books.

“Still looking through dusty old books, huh?” Sam teased, leaning over to glance at the weathered pages she was studying. “You sure you’re not secretly a witch?”

Ella smirked, gently nudging him with her foot under the table. “Maybe I am, and you should be careful—might turn you into a frog or something.”

“Good luck with that,” Sam chuckled, reaching across the table to give her hand a playful squeeze. “If I turn into a frog, you’ll be the one kissing me to break the curse, remember?”

Ella laughed, her soft blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she shot him a playful look. “I’d rather keep you as a frog. You’d make a cute one.”

He leaned forward with a grin. “You’d miss me too much.”

“Maybe,” she replied, her smile widening as their banter continued.

After a few more playful jabs, Sam finally set his phone down and leaned on his elbow, watching her with that familiar, affectionate gaze. “So, what are we thinking? Should we hit up the party soon? Some of the guys from class are already there. I promised we’d at least make an appearance.”

Ella glanced down at the open book in front of her—a curious old thing she had found tucked away in the back of a shelf. Something about it had caught her attention. The strange, faded symbols on the cover seemed to pull her in.

She looked back at Sam with an apologetic smile. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up. I need to finish up some research for my project.” She gestured at the book.

Sam raised an eyebrow, amused. “More research, huh? Only you would choose an old book over a party.” He leaned across the table, lowering his voice. “You sure it’s not a spellbook?”

She rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade. “Fine, fine. Go to your party before I put a hex on you.”

He laughed, standing up and reaching down to ruffle her hair. “Okay, okay, I’m going. But don’t take too long. You owe me a dance, witch.”

Ella looked up at him, her expression softening. “I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

Sam paused, then leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It was sweet and tender, lingering for just a moment as his hand rested on her shoulder. “I love you, El.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, her heart warm as she gazed up at him.

With one last smile, Sam turned and headed toward the library door, waving over his shoulder as he disappeared into the hallway. Ella watched him go, her fingers absentmindedly running through her hair before turning her attention back to the book that lay open in front of her.

She had been working on a research project for her psychology class—human behavior, specifically what drove people to be cruel. It was a fascinating, albeit dark, topic that had captured her interest for weeks. Ella had already sifted through academic papers and case studies, searching for answers to the age-old question of what made some people malicious while others leaned toward kindness.

Her project had been focused on clinical explanations, theories of aggression, and the societal factors that could lead to cruelty, but in her search through the library’s shelves, she stumbled upon this peculiar book, tucked away in the farthest corner of the psychology section. Its worn cover had no title, and its pages were brittle. But the strange thing was its content—a brief mention of something called the Root of Malice, an idea that didn’t quite fit with the modern research she’d been reading. It intrigued her, and though she had no real reason to follow this particular lead, curiosity had taken hold.

Ella flipped through the delicate pages, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the odd, archaic language scrawled across the parchment. Some of the text was faded and difficult to decipher, but every so often a word would leap out at her—malice, cruelty, darkness.

The further she read, the more she could feel something… off. The air around her seemed to grow heavier. Her fingers seemed to tingle as they brushed over the worn pages.

As she reached the middle of the book, her breath caught in her throat. There, filling an entire page, were strange symbols around an elaborate picture. They weren’t like anything she’d seen before.

Ella whispered the unfamiliar words aloud, struggling to pronounce the strange syllables. “Anhar oza seltor…”

The moment the last word left her lips, a sudden heaviness descended upon her. The air around her seemed to thicken, pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her vision blurred as a wave of dizziness washed over her, the room tilting slightly as if the very ground beneath her had shifted.

She tried to stand, her legs trembling beneath her, but the heaviness intensified. Her fingers curled tightly around the edges of the table for support, the world spinning too quickly for her to make sense of it. Every movement felt slow and labored, like she was moving underwater.

And then… everything went dark.

Ella’s body slumped in the chair, a faint sigh escaping her lips.

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When she awoke, it was as if no time had passed at all. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, everything felt disjointed. She blinked, disoriented, the blurry outlines of bookshelves and the faint hum of fluorescent lights slowly coming into focus. The library was quiet.

The heaviness was gone.

Ella sat up slowly, her hands gripping the arms of the chair for balance as she took a deep breath. Her head no longer spun, and the crushing weight that had overtaken her just moments before had vanished entirely, replaced by an odd sense of calm. She felt… fine. Completely fine, actually.

Had she fainted? She didn’t feel weak or sick.

She glanced down at the book, its pages still open to the strange symbols she had tried to read aloud. An odd shiver went down her spine.

The clock on the wall caught her eye. I should just call it a night.

She let out a shaky breath, the unease in her chest slowly subsiding as she closed the book with a soft thud. Sam would be waiting for her at the party, and the thought of seeing him was a welcome distraction after… whatever that was.

“I’ll come back to this later,” she muttered to herself, sliding the book to the edge of the table, feeling more relieved than she cared to admit. Research could wait. She needed to shake this off, clear her head, and enjoy herself tonight.

Ella grabbed her bag and stood up, the usual lightness returning to her steps as she headed for the library exit. Everything felt normal again, but a small voice in the back of her mind wondered why she had fainted at all.

She pushed the thought away, forcing a smile as she stepped into the cool evening air. It’s fine. I’m fine. Sam would laugh at her when she told him about her strange experience, and that was exactly what she needed right now—just a fun night to forget about the bizarre pull of that book.

As she walked toward the party, the memory of the symbols started to fade, and with it, the heaviness that had briefly weighed her down. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

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Ella left the library feeling oddly energized. By the time she arrived at the party, she was in high spirits. She moved through the crowded house, smiling at familiar faces, her attention focused on finding Sam. She scanned the room but couldn’t spot him immediately.

It’s fine. I’ll find him eventually, she thought, a slight smirk playing on her lips. Normally, she’d feel nervous or self-conscious, but tonight was different.

A girl she recognized from one of her classes waved at her. “Hey, Ella!” she called out with a warm smile. Ella returned the wave, moving to approach her, but the moment she did, a sharp, searing pain shot through her head. She gasped, clutching her temple.

What the hell?

The pain faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. She tried to ignore it, taking another step toward the girl to say hello, but the stabbing pain returned, worse this time, as if something was trying to force her away from doing it.

She stopped, panting softly, the pain slowly subsiding. What’s going on?

But then, as she turned away from the friendly girl and bumped into a guy who accidentally spilled his drink on her arm, a flash of anger surged through her. “Watch where you’re going, asshole,” she snapped, pushing him back slightly.

And then it hit—a wave of pleasure so intense it made her shiver. Her whole body tingled as a warm, satisfying sensation flowed through her. It felt… incredible.

She blinked in shock, standing still as the rush of pleasure slowly ebbed. That felt… good.

Her fingers brushed against the spot on her arm where the drink had spilled. Normally, she would have apologized or brushed off the situation entirely. But being rude—no, cruel—had felt amazing, like she had tapped into something new. Her lips curled into a small smile as the realization sunk in. When I’m nice, it hurts. When I’m not… it feels so damn good.

She moved through the party, her mind racing. Every time she considered doing something kind or polite, like offering someone a smile or holding the door, that sharp, throbbing pain returned. But when she deliberately knocked into someone, or made a snide comment under her breath, the pleasure would return, flooding her senses. She couldn’t help but want more.

Finally, she saw Sam across the room, talking to a group of people by the bar. Her heart should have leapt at the sight of him, but instead, a cold detachment settled over her. She strode over, her steps confident and purposeful, feeling a thrill building inside her.

“Hey, babe,” she said casually, sliding up next to him. Sam turned to greet her, but as soon as he saw her, his face froze.

“Ella? What happened to your hair?” he asked, confusion lacing his voice.

Her hand instinctively went up to touch her hair. “What?” she asked, more out of annoyance than confusion. But the second she tried to explain or reassure him, a sharp pain spiked in her temple. She winced, her teeth gritting against the sensation.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered, frustration building inside her as the pain pulsed.

Sam’s concern deepened. “Are you okay? You’re acting really weird.”

“I’m fine, okay?” she snapped, and just like that, the pain disappeared, replaced by another surge of pleasure. It was intoxicating, almost euphoric.

Sam blinked, surprised by her sudden outburst. “Ella, I’m just trying to help—”

“I don’t need your help!” she spat, the words spilling out before she could stop herself. The pleasure hit her again, hard, coursing through her veins like a drug. Her pulse quickened, and she realized she wanted more. Being cruel… felt good.

Sam stepped back, his face hardening. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice cold. “I’ll give you space.”

Ella’s chest tightened, the remnants of the old her stirring within, urging her to say something, to explain. Tell him it’s the spell. But she couldn’t. The moment she tried, the searing pain would shut her down.

Instead, she stood there, feeling the thrill of power and control surge through her as Sam walked away. Her hand trembled slightly as she ran it through her hair again, the unfamiliar black strands slipping between her fingers.

Ella watched Sam walk away, her chest heaving as the anger bubbled beneath the surface. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared into the crowd, but instead of the sorrow she expected to feel, there was only a hollow coldness. The part of her that used to care felt distant, almost unreachable. All she could focus on now was the raw energy surging inside her, the anger swirling.

Her fists clenched at her sides, the pleasure from snapping at Sam still pulsing in her veins like a warm, addictive buzz. Why did it feel so good to push him away? That thought should have terrified her, but it didn’t.

“Ella? Hey, Ella!” A familiar voice broke through her thoughts. She turned to see Claire, one of her oldest friends, weaving through the crowd toward her. Claire’s face was creased with concern, her eyes darting nervously between Ella and the direction Sam had gone. “I just saw you with Sam… Are you okay? You look upset.”

Ella blinked, the remnants of her old self stirring beneath the surface. Claire had always been a good friend, someone who cared. Ella knew she should be thankful—she should be kind, explain things, apologize for how she was acting.

But as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, the pain struck again. Hard. A white-hot spike of agony shot through her skull, forcing her to grit her teeth and clutch her head. The kindness she’d tried to summon was immediately snuffed out, replaced by the growing rage that had been festering since she arrived at the party.

The pain vanished, and in its place, a surge of blissful pleasure rolled through her body. The sharpness of it nearly made her gasp. She lowered her hand slowly, her dark eyes narrowing as she looked at Claire.

“Am I okay?” she repeated, her tone dripping with disdain. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

Claire blinked, taken aback by the venom in Ella’s voice. “I just… you seemed upset with Sam, and I—”

“What? You think I can’t handle my own shit?” Ella snapped, her voice louder now, catching the attention of a few nearby partygoers. “I don’t need you, or anyone else, swooping in like I’m some pathetic damsel who needs rescuing.”

Claire’s eyes widened, her expression quickly shifting from concern to confusion. “Ella, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”

“Shut up, Claire,” Ella cut her off sharply, the pleasure now a steady hum beneath her skin, fueling her words. It felt incredible. With each cruel comment, the pain in her head lessened, and the rush of power intensified. “Do me a favor and mind your own business for once. Maybe that’s why you’re always clinging to me like some desperate little puppy—because you can’t even keep your own life together.”

The hurt that flashed across Claire’s face was immediate, her eyes going glassy as she struggled to comprehend the sudden cruelty. “Ella… what’s going on with you? This isn’t like you.”

Ella tilted her head, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips. “Just fuck off,” she said, her voice almost electric. The thrill of seeing Claire’s discomfort—the way she was shrinking back—sent another wave of pleasure through Ella, and she felt herself reveling in it. Why had she spent so much time being nice when this felt so damn good?

Claire took a step back, clearly shaken. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I’m not sticking around to find out,” she muttered, her voice trembling before she turned and hurried away, glancing back only once with a look of both fear and sadness.

As Claire disappeared into the crowd, Ella’s body hummed with satisfaction. She stood there, feeling a strange mix of triumph and hunger. She had liked that. The power. The control. Watching someone crumble under her words had been exhilarating.

She glanced around the party, her mind still buzzing, her body craving more.

Ella’s pulse quickened as she watched Claire disappear into the crowd, the rush of power still humming beneath her skin. She had never felt this way before—so alive, so charged with energy. She didn’t want it to stop.

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for her next outlet. That’s when she noticed him—a guy standing against the far wall, staring at her. He looked like he was trying to play it cool, but his gaze lingered a little too long, and Ella could feel the pull of his attention. He was tall, with dark hair and a cocky grin that seemed to falter when she locked eyes with him.

A smirk curled on her lips as she started walking toward him, her hips swaying with purpose. He straightened up, watching her approach, clearly not expecting her boldness.

Without a word, Ella reached him and, with no hesitation, she raised her hand and smacked him hard across the face. The sharp sound echoed through the small space, and the guy’s head snapped to the side. A murmur of shock rippled through a few people nearby who had seen the sudden act, but Ella didn’t care. She felt a surge of pleasure—intense and almost dizzying—pulse through her at the sight of his stunned expression.

He blinked, his hand flying to his cheek as he looked back at her, confusion and a strange mix of attraction swirling in his eyes. “What the hell?” he started, his voice low, but before he could say anything else, Ella stepped in close, her body pressing against his.

“Shut up,” she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

Then she kissed him. Hard. Her mouth crashed against his, open and aggressive, her tongue forcing its way past his lips as she took complete control. He hesitated for a split second before kissing her back, clearly turned on by her wildness, though completely unsure of what had just happened. His hands hovered near her waist, unsure whether to touch her or not.

Ella bit down on his bottom lip as she pulled away, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a sting. He winced, a small groan escaping his mouth as his eyes met hers, filled with a mix of desire and bewilderment.

She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. “Don’t stare at what you can’t handle,” she whispered, her voice low and dripping with menace. She stepped back, licking the taste of his blood from her lips as she watched him, still dazed and turned on, staring at her like he didn’t know whether to run or beg for more.

With a final, cold smile, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the guy standing there, clutching his lip, his eyes wide with confusion and raw lust.

Ella laughed softly, a dark, twisted sound that sent shivers down her spine. The pleasure coursing through her was like nothing she had ever felt before, and she wanted more. More of the power. More of the control. More of this dark, intoxicating version of herself that had been hidden for so long.

But then she saw him. Sam.

He was standing near the bar, his eyes locked onto her from across the room. His eyes looked hurt, wet, heartbroken

For a split second, something in her chest tightened. I should explain… I should—

The thought barely formed in her mind before an intense bolt of pain ripped through her skull, so sharp and sudden that it nearly knocked her off balance. She gasped, clutching her head as the pain shot through her temples, worse than before. It felt like her mind was being torn apart. Every attempt to reach out to Sam, every impulse to apologize or explain, was met with a violent surge of agony that made her stomach twist.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, biting down hard to suppress a scream. The pain throbbed, forcing her to let go of any thought of being kind or soft. No. Not kind. Not good.

The pain was too much.

So instead, Ella sneered, her lips curling into a wicked smirk as she slowly raised her hand. Without breaking eye contact, she flipped him off, her middle finger raised high, a silent, defiant message of finality. The action sent a new wave of satisfaction coursing through her, the pleasure intoxicating and powerful.

He didn’t deserve an explanation. Not anymore.

With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the party, her pulse pounding in her ears. As the night air hit her face, a slow, dark grin spread across her lips.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ella walked through the empty streets, her mind flush with anger, desire, power. The rush from flipping Sam off, the look on his face as she left him standing there, confused and heartbroken… it felt so right, so thrilling.

Her feet carried her to the library before she even realized where she was headed. It was late now, long after closing time, the large wooden doors locked tight, the building dark. But Ella didn’t care. She felt a pull—a strange connection to the book she had found earlier, the one that had started all of this. She needed to get back to it. She had to.

Approaching the front entrance, she tested the doors, rattling the handles, but they didn’t budge. She could see the book in her mind, calling to her, and the locked doors only fueled her frustration. The sharp pang of disappointment flared briefly in her chest, but then a thought—no, an urge—took over. Why follow the rules? Being bad had felt good so far, hadn’t it?

Without hesitation, she picked up a heavy stone from the nearby garden bed and hurled it at one of the tall windows. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the empty streets, and the thrill that followed was immediate, sending a jolt of pleasure rippling through her body. Yes.

She climbed through the broken window, not caring if she cut herself on the shards as she dropped onto the cold floor inside. The thrill of destruction pulsed through her, making her heart race with excitement. The more she disobeyed, the stronger she felt. It was exhilarating.

The library was dark and still, the only sound the faint echo of her footsteps on the old wooden floors. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light as she made her way back to the nook piled with her books.

There it was, lying exactly where she’d left it on the table, almost as if it had been waiting for her. She reached out and picked it up, the leather-bound cover cool against her skin. As soon as her fingers touched it, she felt a surge of energy.

She turned to a page, as if on auto-pilot. It was covered with strange symbols that seemed to glow in her eyesight. Though they were still foreign to her, she understood them instinctively. The spell on the page hummed with power, and it seemed to call to her, as if it had been waiting for her to store enough of dark energy to unlock its potential.

Ella’s heart raced. She knew what to do. She had enough—enough anger, enough cruelty, enough bad energy stored within her. And now, she was ready. Ready to unleash it.

She took a deep breath and began to whisper the words on the page, her voice low and steady. As the words left her lips, the energy inside her shifted, swirling and building into something more, something darker.

The symbols on the page glowed brighter, their light wrapping around her like tendrils of shadow, weaving through her fingers and up her arms. Ella’s body tingled, her heart pounding as the spell consumed her. She could feel the darkness pooling inside her, growing stronger with every word she spoke.

And then, with a final, whispered phrase, the energy exploded outward.

A violent surge of energy erupted from within her, enveloping her in a cocoon of dark, swirling shadows.

Her body trembled as the energy coursed through her veins, reshaping her from the inside out. Her soft, delicate features contorted, hardening with sharp edges as her skin began to glow with an unnatural hue. The sensation was both painful and intoxicating, like every nerve in her body was on fire, but the pleasure of it was overwhelming. She welcomed it—craved it.

Her hair, once a shimmering black, lengthened, flowing in dark, glossy waves down her back like a river of shadow. It thickened and twisted with a life of its own, framing her face as if the darkness itself was molding her into something more than human. She could feel her body shifting, her curves becoming more exaggerated, more seductive, every inch of her screaming power and allure. Her waist narrowed, her hips flared, and her breasts swelled, the intricate black lace-like designs crawling up her skin, wrapping around her like living tattoos. They moved, shifting and changing, merging with her skin in beautiful, haunting patterns.

Her hands flexed, the delicate fingers elongating, nails sharpening into blackened claws, gleaming with a predatory sheen. The feeling of control, of sheer dominance, flooded her senses. Her eyes, once wide and soft, darkened into pools of shadow, glowing with an inner crimson fire that burned with malevolent intent.

As her transformation reached its peak, two large, obsidian horns erupted from her skull, curving upward like a crown of dark power. They were sharp and imposing, exuding a terrifying majesty that made her feel like a queen—no, a goddess of the damned. A mask, forged from the very darkness surrounding her, materialized over her face, intricately designed with a skeletal, demonic beauty, making her look like a nightmare made flesh. The cold metal pressed against her skin, but instead of discomfort, it brought her more pleasure—more power.

And there she stood—no longer Ella, the sweet, quirky girl who once cared for kindness and love. She was now the embodiment of cruelty, of power, of unstoppable evil. Every ounce of the “bad” energy she had absorbed had transformed her into this—into a being of sheer dominance and destruction, a force that would be unleashed upon the world.

Ella looked down at her new form, feeling the raw power surging through her with every breath. The pain, the confusion—it was all gone, replaced by an unrelenting hunger for chaos, for cruelty, for conquest.

She smiled, her fanged teeth glinting in the dim light. She was Malice and the world had no idea what was coming.

#f2f transformation #personality change #f2f corruption #f2f

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skitskatdacat63 · 3 months ago

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Happy One Year Anniversary to Boy King AU!!!! 🎉

Okay wait before I start talking, look at these close ups and the process!! Aren't they so beautiful aaaahhhh

Wow, can you believe it’s really been a whole entire year since my very first post about this AU? Well technically I first started talking about the statuette a day earlier, but the very first sketch was exactly a year ago!! Let us not forget the incredibly prophetic tag on that post: “also in the sense of this au i think the only ship that would work(historically accurate wise) is Vettonso.” Who knew that after that my entire life would devolve into vettonso, this specific period of history, and the lovely combo which is Boy King AU. Also wow this means it’s taken me almost a whole entire year to actually draw a joint portrait of them hahaha. I drew this sketch around the beginning of the AU, but never finished it. It’s fine though because this one is a lot better, and I’m in love with it. Took me a year to draw a couple portrait, and took me almost a whole entire month to finish said piece.

Okay let me explain this piece, which I am very obsessed with!!! I dragged the process out more than I usually would, but I’m glad, because it was so enjoyable. But also look at that fucking crown, no wonder this took almost a month. Usually I’d write like 50 paragraphs detailing the characterization. HOWEVER! I’ve spent over a month writing little bits of characterization, mostly for fun, but also in preparation for this very post. A lot of the earlier ones, I had this drawing in mind, thinking on how I could expand on the ideas I was drawing. Though there’s definitely some things I could still write about. I’ll probably continue to write more Lore a Days, but yeah, they basically amounted to this drawing where you can actually see the characterization I was talking about displayed. Anyways, here are the explanations of bits in the drawing:

First of all, this is some part of the long process of their wedding. Look at the married couple!! Look at their rings!!!

Okay, but why are there two, almost identical looking pieces?? Because look at their hands!! I talked a lot about how Fernando is the one to give out affection more easily, especially in public, where he knows he can easily fluster Seb. He’s acting all grumpy and out of it, I mean to be fair, it’s probably been such a long ceremony across weeks. But he notices Seb is out of it too, just better at keeping his smile (let’s be honest, even if he’s distracted, he’s super smug.) So Fernando catches him off guard by squeezing his hand. Before that, as you can see, Fernando is just resting his hand on Seb’s outstretched palm, like that one scene from Succession. Very: yes I’m getting married, but I’m not happy about it. The combination of Fernando refusing to even touch him more than lightly beforehand but now going full force, them being in public, and Seb already being distracted catches Seb so off guard he has to try to cover his blush with his fan. He thought Fernando was being super impolite, but now he’s the impolite one!! Getting all blushy and giggly over a simple display of affection, perhaps even ha-

So. Their crowns. Seb’s wearing the crown of Austria, because he is in fact only a king still! Also, because I really wanted to try drawing it after I wimped out of it before in this drawing. Fernando’s a king as well by the point, but the fact he’s wearing only a tiara-like hairpiece is to represent how much of an outsider he still is. At this moment, he’s just Seb’s wi- ,I mean husband, to all these guests. Of course this bitch wears a black veil instead of a white one, to signal that he’s mourning the loss of his autonomy and personhood. Don’t worry too much about his mental state though, considering he’s not depressed enough to be able to resist teasing Seb.

The fan, oh my god. Back in this era, people would gift/make fans for basically any occasion. To symbolize an event, to celebrate something, to show a story, etc etc. I wish I could have drawn something more narrative, but I think the bull vs. horse is good enough. Also you can see those same symbols on the pendants they’re wearing!! I’m so happy when I can fit irl, modern stuff like that into these drawings, it feels so clever!!

It’s so funny, I wrote a lore a day from a prompt about what they’d be like when doing a joint portrait, while I was already almost through painting a dual portrait of my own! So I got to explain some stuff like their clothing colors and poses before I even posted this. I feel very coy about that still honestly.

Hmmm what else? It feels so weird to not expand on the characterization, considering I already did it for myself weeks in advance. I can’t imagine what it’s like opening this read more, and seeing more than 10 in-text citations. Happy reading!!!

Happy anniversary to this wonderful, crazy AU that makes me download 500pg German papers about 18th century etiquette. I drew a couple pieces of fanart before this AU, but I definitely think it jumpstarted my insanity about drawing/making AUs, and literally is what made me insane about Vettonso in the first place. Remember, if I hadn’t learned about Joseph I/Charles VI, most of my blog probably wouldn’t exist in it's current form. Thank you if you’ve stuck around since the beginning, or if you’re even just learning about it now!! It’s so incredibly niche but I’ve had so much fun researching and building this world and these characterizations, and I hope you’ve enjoyed what I’ve made in the process. I hope I can draw/write many more things in the future. I think next, I’m gonna maybe open up requests. I’d like to try to either write ficlets or draw chibi comics about specific Lore a Day posts on request. I think that’d be a lot of fun, but also will probably kill me. We’ll see!! Anyways. PPlease enjoy this absolute labor of love, which is a result of a year’s worth of work.

#idk why I decided that the best time to write all that was right when I have to sleep #who cares about the race!? its boy king au day!!!!!!#waughhhhhh i cant believe its been a yearrrrrrrrr #they are my sons. my babies. borderline ocs im ngl.#i fear that one day soon imma lose my interest in f1 but then just keep posting niche fanart LMFAO #look forward to that day <3 #weird to think its been an entire year and think about how much has changed since that day #im really glad ive stuck with this even though its gotten hard for me sometimes #the past month or so has been a lot more creative than i thought #and im glad it could all result in this #it was so weird drawing this over like a month #i didnt wanna finish it too soon and then dislike it when the day actually came #so thats actually why i started writing lore a day. so i could have smth creative to do in the meantime #again. ty if youve been with me since teh beginning of this and if youre just seeing this now. i love you all dearly #thank you for supporting me and this crazy idea :) it makes it 100x more enjoyable #f1 #formula 1 #<- SOOOOO FUNNY TO TAG THESE LMAO #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso #vettonso #boy king au #catie.art.

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berryhobii · 1 year ago

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Reconnect (myg x reader)

Pairing: Idol!Min Yoongi x black!wedding designer!female! Reader

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, mentions of secret relationship, mentions of a wedding(but not Yoongi and the reader’s), reader and Yoongi are engaged, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), unprotected sex(please speak to your partners before engaging in this), vaginal sex, squirting, creampies, riding, doggy style, mating press/missionary, oral(f receiving), soft dom Yoongi(he’s super soft and vocal but also goes kind of rough😊), rough sex, multiple orgasms(f and m receiving), brief aftercare and mentions of amazing aftercare, reader has goddess locs(color and length not specified), reader also has that Wendy’s Strawberry Lemonade kitty, reader also also has nipple piercings, reader got a fat ass because who doesn’t appreciate a nice booty?

A/N: Hi! This is my second time uploading something. I’ve had this story in my drafts for a while. I had been writing it using she/her pronouns so I’ve been spending the past few days to change those to you/yours. If I missed any, I’m sorry but please let me know so I can make the story more cohesive. Reader is black but their skin color isn’t really described but I believe I referred to their nipples being dark so that’s it. My next post with either be a GreekMythology!Jimin or a Gamer!Jungkook. The Jimin story is actually really long so I think I’ll turn it into a small series but I’ll post the 1st chapter sometime next week. Thanks again for reading! Criticism is greatly accepted and I hope my black and melanated girlies feel good reading this! Have a good day.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I said we’d have dinner but we have to do some last minute recording.”

You tried not to sound disappointed when you replied. “That’s okay. I understand.” And you truly did. You knew how important his job was and that it would be a priority of his.

You just wished that it didn’t take so much of his time. You understood that his music was his life and that it was his dream career. All of his hard work had led up to being able to do what he does now; to make music and inspire the millions of fans that listened. You were so proud of him. Seeing him live his dream filled you with a different kind of pride and emotion. He was happy and that’s all you ever wanted for him.

Still, you missed him. You two had barely spent any time together the past month while he’s been preparing for their new album. He’d come home long after you’d fallen asleep and he’d sleep into the afternoon, just to rise and immediately get ready to go again. You couldn’t even have breakfast together like you used to. You could barely even start a conversation before he was cutting you off with a kiss and rushing out of the door.

While you had your own career of designing wedding dresses, you still had so much free time on your hands. You had already designed your newest collection and it was currently in production to be created. You’ve even made multiple visits to a few stores and they were running amazingly. There was only so long you could bury yourself in work before your heart began yearning for Yoongi’s companionship.

“I promise when this is finished, we’ll go on a trip. Just you and me.”

That made you smile. You and Yoongi have traveled a lot together over the years; Bora Bora, Italy, The Maldives—and each experience had been just as memorable and romantic as the last. He proposed to you in Italy at the Orange Gardens. It was such a magical moment. Just thinking about it made you want to cry. The entire trip was just absolutely perfect; from taking a gondola ride on the gorgeous waters to the 5 Star hotel they stayed in for 3 days and 2 nights, all the way to the candlelit dinner where he got down on one knee. You remember it fondly.

While the promise of a trip together didn’t fix your loneliness now, it gave you something to look forward to.

You couldn’t fight the smile in your voice. “Okay.” Your eyes went over to the stove where dinner was cooking. You had just finished searing some steaks that were finishing up in the oven. There was no point of putting them away for him to eat later. They wouldn’t be as flavorful or tender.

“Hey, is it okay if I bring you some dinner? I know you haven’t eaten yet.” Your tone shifted to one of slight teasing but you knew you were right. His pause of silence was proof enough.

“You don’t have to do that, baby.”

“I want to though. I made steak and I’ll feel better knowing you’ve eaten. I won’t stay long or distract you.” Just knowing he had a home cooked meal would make you happy. You would nag him constantly about drinking too much coffee and eating take out. It came from a place of love, however and Yoongi never minded. He loved having someone so attentive to his health when he’d blatantly ignore it. It showed you cared. Also, he secretly loved being babied by you. He’d never admit it out loud or to his friends but you knew. There was nothing better than coming home, a bath prepared for him to soothe his sore muscles, a meal on the table, and cuddling into your soft breasts while your rubbed his back—always being careful with his shoulder.

Your already nurturing nature and tendency to baby Yoongi increased tenfold once he got surgery. You barely let him leave the bed, even following him to the bathroom to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. A little bit stifling but he was so grateful to you. You always took care of him.

“Then that sounds great. I’ll leave my door open for you. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

With a giddy pep in your step, you finished cooking dinner, packaging it nicely in cute Tupperware before putting it in a bag. You had already showered and your clothes were fine but you wondered if you should put on something different. While Yoongi thought you looked good in anything, you still liked to look pretty for him; wearing dresses and heels whenever you went out, keeping your nails and toes done, and making appointments to get waxed every month. Self care was important to you. It not only made you feel good about yourself but it was also something you just liked to do for your husband.

Deciding to change your clothes, you slipped on a t shirt maxi dress that hugged and showed off all of your curves, along with some short open toed shoes to show off your freshly painted white toes. It was simple but still dressy and feminine, just your style.

Checking your hair once more in the mirror and smearing on some lip gloss, you grabbed the bag of food and your keys before exiting your home.

HYBE Studios was a pretty moderate drive from your apartment. The reason for that is to keep crazy fans from ever finding it. Once the company realized other idols were having their homes broken into, there was a decision to move all of the boys about 30 minutes from the company in a luxury gated neighborhood. You had to admit, you missed your old apartment you shared with Yoongi since that was their first place together but you also couldn’t complain about the walk in closet and the jacuzzi bathtub.

You greeted the security guard in front of the car garage, him lifting the block to the garage. After parking close to the company cars that were often used to transport the boys during RunBTS, you exited your car and made your way through the side door to the lobby.

You nodded at the secretary, everyone already knowing who you were and letting you pass with no issue.

Yoongi’s studio was on the 8th floor at the end of the hall. Namjoon’s was just a short distance away as well.

Once you reached his door, you entered the pin code on the keypad. Besides a few staff members and the boys, you were one of the few with the password to his studio. He just preferred silence and no disruptions so the code was only used during emergencies or whenever you or the boys came to visit. There was also a group chat for everyone with his code, adorably named ‘The Plastics’, courtesy of Taehyung. If they ever needed to come to his studio, they’d send a text beforehand so he’d know to expect them.

The beep sounded and you opened the door, smiling at the sight of your husband who was cutely leaned over on his right palm as his eyes scanned the production screen for his music. You didn’t get most of it but you always found it adorable when he’d try to explain. He’d get so invested in telling you how reverb and delay could either make or break a song that he’d never see how endearingly you’d stare at him. And he’d always get surprised when you’d lunge to bite his cheek.

“You are just too adorable! I have to bite you!”

His headphones were around his neck so he turned at the sound of his door opened, a smile immediately rising to his face at the sight of you. He removed his headphones, standing to greet you.

You could barely put the food down before his hands were around you waist, pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, cuddling into his body as you inhaled his cologne and the gentle scent of his favorite body wash.

He pulled away a little to press a few pecks to your forehead. “Hi baby.” His deep, slightly tired voice sent shivers down you spine. It was almost like his regular voice was just his morning voice constantly and out of all of the little things you loved about him, his voice was towards the top of your list—right after his newly grown out hair, his hands, and that little habit of him slurping whenever he’d explain things.

You inhaled a deep breath, basking in the affection. “Hi.”

You two just held each other for a moment, locked in an embrace and not wanting to let go. This was your special kind of intimacy, just not speaking or moving, simply holding one another.

Yoongi considered himself a pretty private person. A little ironic considering he was a world famous idol who’s whole job was being put in the spotlight. However, when it came to his personal relationships, he did his best to keep that as private as possible. Just imagine the uproar when people found out he was engaged. You had been hidden from the public eye for 3 straight years before you got engaged. How? One part extreme luck, the other part moving quietly. Your relationship started off with you meeting for the first time at a staff member’s wedding. You had designed her dress and she was so amazed and in love with how you created her dream dress that she insisted you come to her wedding. Always happy to see people overjoyed with your work and excited to see your design in action, of course you agreed. Coincidentally, you were sat pretty close to the table the boys were at. When you recognized them, you softly smiled and introduced yourself, expressing how you were a fan and how many women said they were using BTS songs as their wedding songs. Yoongi was drawn in instantly, your gentle voice and sparkling eyes as you talked about your clients drew him in. He could tell you were passionate about your career, just like he was.

After exchanging numbers while the bride and groom were cutting the cake, you two mainly texted and called each other in your free time. It took about 4 months for you to go on their first date since Yoongi had to go to America for promotions. He thought you’d lose interest since he traveled and couldn’t take you on a proper date but you never minded. You liked talking to Yoongi and found yourself developing feelings for him. He was trying and effort was one of your biggest green flags for a partner. A little distance wasn’t that big of a deal to you. Of course, you wanted to be able to be close to him and hold his hand and maybe even kiss but you knew what you were signing up for when you started talking.

Once Yoongi went on break, he started dedicating a lot of time to you; dates, inviting you to his place for dinner and wine, and learning more about you. He didn’t think you would get along so well. Talking on the phone was vastly different than being in each other’s physical presence but you had melded together like the pieces of a puzzle. You were so gentle and compassionate, always looking after him and giving him affection he hasn’t gotten in years. You were perfect for him and vice versa.

Your eyes slowly blinked up at him, just taking in his handsome features. You could spot the bags under his eyes, feeling a little sad that he was running himself ragged.

“You look tired. Have you slept since his morning?”

He hummed. “I took a little nap around lunch. The new couch came in.” You turned a little to look at the new addition to his studio. Before, he just had a small leather couch, moreso for decoration than comfort. Once he got a bigger studio, he upgraded his furniture but kept that couch. After some prodding from you, he ordered a new and more comfortable couch—one that could become a pull out bed for those overnights at the studio.

“It looks great.” It was a dark grey color, wide and stretched enough to fully support 2 people if you wanted to spoon on it.

“Yeah. I just didn’t think it would take that long to get it in the door. Namjoon almost knocked over my synthesizer.” He said that with a shake of his head. You giggled, imagining the tall and clumsy man scrambling to pick up the keyboard.

“I can only imagine. I brought food. You should eat it before it gets cold. I should go.” You tried pulling away from him only for him to tighten his grip on your waist. You let out an “oof” as your face met the hard planes of his chest. All that physical therapy and time in the gym had really bulked him up. While you loved his body regardless, you definitely weren’t complaining about the extra muscle. He was filling out this black shirt just fine.

He nuzzled his nose in your neck, inhaling your favorite perfume that you’ve worn since he met your. It was one of his favorite scents. His hands rubbed up and down your back, feeling all over the material of your dress.

“No, stay. Eat with me.”

Yoongi could be very affectionate and straightforward when he wanted to be, normally when you were alone. He’d never show this side in public. Not because he was ashamed of his love for your, far from that. He just preferred to keep their intimate moments private. Maybe a little kiss here and there and some hand holding but moments like this were for you only.

Your manicured fingers went to his nape, scratching at the hair there. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“You’re not.” He pulled back to look you in eyes. “I want you to eat with me. I feel bad we couldn’t have dinner at home.” And he did. He knew his job demanded a lot of his time and attention and even if you understood that, it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about leaving you alone all the time. He knew you could entertain yourself and had your own life outside of him but he still felt bad not being able to spend as much time with you as he wanted. He missed you just as much. While he loved his job, nothing beat coming home to your warmth and affection. To be honest, he was getting a little touch starved.

He led you over to the couch, waiting for your to sit before going to the mini fridge in his studio.

“Do you want juice?” He asked as he pulled out a couple of drinks. He always kept some of your favorites in his mini fridge just in case. You didn’t drink caffeine or really any alcohol, water and juices were your favorites.

You nodded your head, beginning to take out the Tupperware containers. They were still nice and hot. He placed a juice down on the table, along with an energy drink. You frowned at that, leaning forward to pick it up.

“You need to drink water. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those coffee cups on your desk.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed but couldn’t hide his smile. You were too good to him. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve you. Taking the energy drink from you, he went back to the fridge to grab a water instead.

Ignoring the smug smile on your face, he sat next to you, waiting for you to open all of the containers. The smell was delicious, making his stomach growl.

Your handed him some chopsticks and a few napkins before sliding the steak over to him. “Here. Try it.”

You ate in silence, him using his chopsticks to place some pieces of steak and vegetables in your bowl. You smiled, the cute ways Yoongi showed he cared always making your heart warm. Fans knew he was more subtle in showing he cared and that wasn’t any different than him in private. You had to learn that his love language was acts of service but in a more quiet way.

After you finished eating, he helped clean up the containers, giving you some wipes to clean your hands and the table.

He let out of a groan as he sat back down on the couch, belly full and fully ready for a nap. But he knew he had to get back to work and that meant you had to leave.

“Thanks, baby. It was delicious.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, rubbing the soft skin. You hummed, placing your hand on top of his.

“Of course. I’m happy you liked it.” You both rested for a moment before you began moving. “I should go. You have work to do.”

You barely made it to your feet before he was tugging you back down on his lap. A surprised yelp came from your lips at the sudden movement, ass meeting his thighs when you landed. He situated you so that you straddled his hips, his hands immediately going to your ass.

“Baby….” You pouted, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. You were normally the one who initiated physical affection so for Yoongi to do it so roughly surprised you. You weren’t complaining, however. The way his eyes were hooded over and how he looked up at you with that dark endearment made your belly tingle. You knew where this was going.

“Stay.” His left hand pressed your body down so your chest squished against his. “You come here in this dress and my favorite shoes…”

You adjusted yourself to wrap your arms around his neck. “I hardly wear these.”

He shrugged. “I love anything you wear. You look so sexy.” His hand traveled up your dress, moving it up your ass so he could grope full handfuls of the fat. While Yoongi appreciated all parts of your body, your ass was his favorite. Genetics, exercise and a little bit of happy weight had all accumulated into jiggly ass he loved to squeeze and slap. When you met, you were pretty thin but in shape nonetheless. Fans speculated that you gained ‘happy relationship weight’ since Yoongi treats you right. Whatever the reason, he thanks the higher power every day for it.

You could feel the heat beginning to spark between you, along with Yoongi’s growing boner pressing against your panties. Now that you thought about it, it’s been a little while since you’ve been intimate. You and Yoongi have barely had any time for quickies, let alone a full session of sex. And you two could go for hours if you wanted. On the day of your engagement, you barely left the hotel room because you couldn’t keep your hands off him. How could you? He was your fiancé. Mmm, that word just got you hot and bothered.

Your hands ran up his neck and into his hair, scratching at his scalp. The low hum of contentment that came from him spurred you on. You brought your faces closer together, lips hovering before you trapped him in a kiss. He hummed again, lifting his head to kiss you deeper, hands still squeezing at your ass.

Your kiss grew more heady, both of your hands massaging each other and trying to stroke any piece of skin you could. Yoongi began pushing against you to make your roll your hips against him. His cock could probably cut glass from how hard he was. You always got him excited with barely doing anything. To be honest, he started getting hard the moment you entered the room. Just your presence got him feeling almost immediately horny.

And it was the same for you. Your cunt had began getting wet the moment Yoongi turned around in his chair. He just looked so comfortable and effortlessly sexy and the way his muscles strained against that shirt made your imagination run wild.

You pulled away to inhale a deep breath. “Yoongi….please…”

His lazy smirk sent a rush straight to your already wet pussy. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

God he was such a tease but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it.

“I need you.”

That was all he needed before he moved to flip you onto your back. You bounced against the soft couch cushions, barely getting your bearings before he was back on you, pressing his lips to yours.

His large hands traveled up your dress, lifting it over your belly and breasts. He leaned back to get a look, letting out a groan at the absolute beauty under him.

Your chest was heaving from just a little kissing, your goddess locks spread out under you, glossed lips plump and ready for more. You were so gorgeous and he made sure to let you know.

You squirmed under the compliment, feeling giddy and a bit bashful. You always received compliments and the occasional catcall and while you accepted the respectful ones gracefully, none of those ever mattered to you. Yoongi’s praise and compliments put you on cloud 9 and you really believed him.

His hands traveled up your body to your breasts, eyes catching something under your bra. He pulled the annoying piece of fabric down and if he could get any harder, he probably would.

“Fuck. You’re wearing your piercings? Did you come here to try and kill me?” The little diamonds sparkled under the light. He remembers buying the jewelry for your birthday last year. He also remembers sucking the sensitive nipples until you were crying just an hour later.

You giggled, biting your lip. “Of course not.”

His smirk widened. “You little sneak.” His hands went to grope at the soft flesh, a sigh falling from your lips. His thumbs ran lightly over the stiff peaks, pulling more sighs and little squeaks from your lips. Your nipples had gotten so much more sensitive after piercings. Yoongi couldn’t be too rough on them when you first got them, being careful of your healing process. He could barely touch them without you gasping in the slight pain from healing. Of course, he never complained, understanding your pain so he just stopped touching them. He just didn’t think it would test his control so much; seeing you walk around without a shirt sometimes, the already silky and delectable breasts looking more appetizing from the little barbells. Months had passed along with many maintenance appointments before you announced that they could be touched without pain. With the pain gone, your sensitivity skyrocketed and with Yoongi’s skilled tongue beginning their assault, your pleasure had been taken to a new level.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and his mouth open to lick over your nipple. You let out a moan as his tongue swirled all around your piercing. He switched to the next one, giving it the same treatment.

The heat between your legs was becoming too much, your panties beginning to feel uncomfortable from how they were sticking to you.

“Yoongi….” You whined. His eyes lifted to lock on your flustered face, lips parted as puffs of air came through them, your eyes desperate and pleading for anything. Everything.

Reluctantly pulling away from your nipples, he helped you pull the dress from your body, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of you cared.

He kissed from your breasts to your tummy until he reached the apex of your thick thighs. You immediately dropped them open, revealing yourself to him. He groaned at your desperation but also at the sight of your soaked underwear. The thong barely covered anything, the baby blue fabric now dark from your arousal. It was practically leaking from you, the bottom of your ass shining. Kissing over the stretch marks that streaked down the inside of your thighs, he whispered words of praise to you.

“Fuck baby. You’re so fucking wet.” He couldn’t help himself, surging forward to suck on your clit through your panties. A shiver racked your body, your hands coming down to bury in his hair. The friction wasn’t as good with your panties still keeping his tongue from making direct contact with your clit but it was something. And it felt so good.

Your hips jerked against his face, trying to get more. His hands dug into the meat of your thighs, holding them open as his tongue licked at your clit.

More moans fell from your lips, pleasure causing your vision to go blurry. You felt so close already and he’s barely done anything. Blame it on you not having a proper orgasm for weeks. Your hands just didn’t feel the same and Yoongi had thrown out all of your vibrators once you two started having sex.

“You won’t need these anymore. All your orgasms should come from me.”

Now you were remembering why he threw them out in the first place. Only he could rip pleasure and orgasms from your body in seconds, playing your body like a piano.

Your hand came down your body, tapping against his forehead. He pulled away slightly, eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. You really only stopped him when you were shaking in overstimulation and he knew you hadn’t even cum yet so why were you stopping him?

When he pulled back, you grabbed onto your panties, pulling them aside to reveal your fat and dripping pussy to him.

How the hell did he get so lucky? Did he save orphans in his past life or something? Not only had he managed to put a ring on a kind, generous, and absolutely amazing person who treated him like a King and opened up the deepest parts of him, he also managed to snag a submissive, slutty, and needy woman who could ride his cock for hours and bend in ways he’s only dreamed of.

There was no way.

Eyes darkening in lust, he dove back in to capture your clit, licking at it more furiously than before. The heat from his mouth made that pressure build in your lower belly, your toes curling from their position in the air. Your loud moans only pushed him further, shoving 2 fingers in your tight heat. Your slick walls gripped his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them.

“Y-Yoongi! I’m gonna-“

He curled his fingers up, pulling away from your clit to lean up close to your face, his breath hitting your cheeks. “You gonna cum? You’re such a good girl.” He pressed some kisses to your open mouth, fingers thrusting in and out of your in a superhuman pace, veins and muscles in his arms shifting and bulging from the exertion.

When your orgasm crashed, you swore all of your senses except touch disappeared. You couldn’t hear and your vision blurred from the tears that had welled in your eyes. But Yoongi didn’t stop.

Your hand flew down to grab at his wrist, back arching as he continued his assault, helping you ride the huge wave.

He pulled his lip between his teeth. You were so sexy.

Once you came down, he slowly pulled his fingers from your, the digits glistening in your release. He sucked them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. He just couldn’t get enough.

Now he wanted more. Standing from the couch, he pulled off his own shirt and pants, taking his briefs with them. His hard cock slapped against his stomach, red at the tip and practically pulsing.

You bit your lip, thighs squeezing together as your pussy throbbed. Fuck you were so wet.

He flopped back on the couch, patting his lap. “Come ride this cock, baby.”

Not needing to be told twice, you crawled over into his lap, taking your bra and ruined panties off on the way.

His hands gripped your ass once you were straddled on his hips. You could feel the heavy weight of his cock pressing on your ass and it filled you with excitement.

Reaching your hand back, you gripped his cock, pumping it a few times. He groaned, head falling back against the couch at your touch.

Delivering a sharp slap to your ass, he growled, “stop teasing.”

His deep and demanding voice sent shivers down your spine. Never one to disobey, you lifted your hips, lining up his cock with your entrance. You rubbed the tip over your opening to gather some of your wetness before you slowly began sinking down on him.

A moan came from both of you as his thick cock began splitting you open. Your walls were squeezing him so tight that he felt like he could cum right there but he refrained. He wasn’t even all the way inside yet.

Your mouth was dropped open as his cock stretched you open, head tossed back and eyes closed as you basked in the feeling. Each ridge and vein was pressing against you in the most delicious way, the slight curve pressing against that spot deep inside of you. You felt like you could cum again just like this.

Once your ass met his thighs, you both let out sighs. Not only from pleasure but from being able to be close like this. This is what you needed; this closeness, this union, this intimacy. Sex was so much more to you than just getting off. It bonded you and brought you closer than ever, love spilling over and intertwining your hearts and souls.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a sweeter and more sensual kiss.

“I love you…” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you too.”

Your hips began rolling against him, slowly at first to get accumulated to the stretch. He assisted you with one hand on your ass and one on your hip.

Before long, you began raising your hips, falling back down on his lap. The low clapping sounds spurring you on.

Yoongi groaned against your lips. “That’s it, baby. Faster.” With another sharp slap to your ass that made you moan, you bounced faster. Your ass jiggled each time it connected with his thighs and a part of him wished he could see it but the blissed out look on your face was too good to pass up.

Unwrapping your arms from his neck, you leaned back to get that perfect angle, your hands landing on his knees. A squeak fell from you as his tip began bullying your soft spot. Your head fell back, mouth dropped open as that delicious feeling began building in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah! Yoongi! Your cock feels s-so good!” You felt drunk, mind hazy and awareness faded. All you could focus on was the feel of him under you and the way his perfect cock slipped in and out. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, electricity spreading all the way to your fingertips and making your toes curl.

Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t even know where to look; your breasts, face, where you were connected? He could see how your arousal was dripping down to wet his pubic hair, a ring of your wetness coating the base of his cock. You were truly was a sight to behold.

That pressure was building faster than you thought. Sliding your hand down your body, your fingers connected with your clit, rubbing the nub in fast circles.

“Yoongi!”

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Your walls clenched and constricted around him, almost suffocating him. His hands rubbed at your nipples, flicking at the piercings. You were seeing stars, the stimulation was too much. His hands roaming you, your own fingers on your clit, and his cock inside of you was all too much.

That pressure…..

“I’m cumming!”

Your hips lifted from his cock, it falling out to slap against his stomach. Your fingers rubbed at your clit until some drips of liquid came out. The motion of your fingers caused the droplets to fly everywhere, some landing on the cushions as well.

Once you were done riding it out, he was flipping you back on the couch, head pressed into the cushions and ass up in the air. He delivered a few slaps to your ass, pulling some moans from your at the sting. Your head was swimming, the sudden movement making you a little dizzy but that dizziness quickly left when Yoongi entered you again.

His cock entered you in one swift motion, hips immediately working to push and pull against you. Your ass clapped back on his hips, the fat jiggling and rippling with every move. His own orgasm was just over the horizon.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust. “You come in here looking this good and then you bounce on my cock until you squirt? Why the fuck have I been spending all my time here when you’re at home?” He was really talking to himself. Only a true idiot would leave a hot piece of ass like this at home all day. And he must really be a true idiot, probably the dumbest man alive. But not anymore.

Your moans were rising in pitch. With this position, you could every inch, every curve, absolutely everything. You could barely breathe, your brain only being able to form utterances of his name and begs of faster and harder.

That feeling in Yoongi began cresting, balls drawing up as his orgasm washed over him. His hands gripped your hips and ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less. He could bruise you up all he wanted.

His orgasm spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, shuddering his whole body. “F-fuck….” He breathed out. That was probably the hardest orgasm he’s ever had in his life.

Your own breath began to even out. You thought that was the end but you were suddenly flipped around back on your back. Both of your legs were hiked up over his right shoulder, thighs pressing into your chest in Yoongi’s absolute favorite position.

“You think I’m done with you?” His smirk was teasing and it caused more arousal to drip from you. He reached his hand down to line himself up before pushing into your heat. A gasp came from your throat at the intrusion, your hands coming to grip at the back of his neck.

His hips set a brutal pace, balls wetly slapping against your ass.

“Oh my god! Y-Yoongi!”

It felt like he was in your throat, every thrust hitting you in all the right spots. Your nails scratched at his neck, the slight sting only pushing him harder. He could feel your walls tightening, a tell tale sign of your orgasm. Your breasts bounced with every push, dark nipples looking incredibly enticing.

“Cum, baby. That’s it.”

Your body seized up as your second orgasm full body absorbed you. Your vision spotted white and your ears were ringing.

But not even your orgasm made him stop or slow down. He pushed faster and harder, the squelching noises getting louder as more and more wetness spilled from you.

It was like your orgasm wouldn’t stop. Wave after wave came over you. Every nerve was lit on fire, your mouth dropped but no sound came out. He had taken every word from you.

When he felt you squirt on his cock again, he shoved his full cock inside. Your toes curled so hard that you could feel them crack, legs shaking but he held them tightly. Your hands smacked against his shoulders as the stimulation became too much. You were so full.

“Yoongi!”

“Take it. Take all that cock, baby.”

You had no choice but you didn’t care. You’d give up every choice if it meant he’d fuck you like this.

He rolled his hips against yours a few more times before his own orgasm washed over him. He groaned into your throat, a full body shudder racking his body.

Lifting his head, he connected your lips in a soft kiss, a complete turn from what just went down. You hummed against his lips, hands roaming his soft skin.

He moved your legs from his shoulders, massaging your slightly sore muscles as you kissed. You both let out small moans as he pulled out of your heat, his cum flowing out of you.

Yoongi helped you clean yourself up, giving you a large elastic to tie up your hair. The sweat would definitely make your roots curl back up but that was a problem for another day. You put your dress back on as Yoongi pulled his shirt and pants back on. Your underwear found themselves tucked into his back pocket. A little silly considering he had endless access to you pussy but you guessed it was some man thing.

When Yoongi went back to his computer, leaning over the chair to click at some things, you visibly deflated, mood dampening. Was he really going back to work? You guessed you did just come to drop off food, the sex was a bonus and you did say you would leave afterwards. You just couldn’t help but feel a little sad and used. Yoongi was the king of aftercare, always running you a bath or giving you cuddles as you two calmed down from lovemaking. It’s not like this one moment would make you think Yoongi didn’t care but you did feel a little defeated.

Gathering your things, you were about to approach the door but Yoongi’s voice stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t turn to face him, feeling a little embarrassed. “Home. Aren’t you going back to work?”

A snort came from him. “Of course not.”

You gasped when his body pressed against your back, also the feeling of his boner was right on your ass.

“Yoongi….”

“You really think I’m about to work and let you go home so you can wash my cum out of you? I’m fucking you until you can’t walk.”

Maybe you should come to the studio more often.

#bts fic #bts #yoongi studio sex #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts x black reader #jimin smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #Yoongi imagine

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winchesterwild78 · 6 months ago

Text

Austin part 2

Austin Master List

Chapter Warnings: Language, cheating, angst, Fluff, feels

A/N: Reader is new to the Austin area with her husband and teenage son. When a car accident brings her face to face with Jensen Ackles. Absolutely no disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not represent reality. This chapter is a little long, but I needed to set up the story. I edited this fast so please overlook any mistakes. I’m trying to turn out chapters fast because I’m having wrist surgery in a few weeks. Enjoy! ☺️

All work is my own, don’t take it

18+ Minors DNI

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The next morning you woke up later than you intended. You saw your husband was already gone so you crawled out of bed. You jumped in the shower and your mind kept drifting to Jensen and his smile. “Girl, stop it! He’s married and so are you. He’s happy with his wife.” You told yourself. You were confused when you felt a bit of sadness at the thought of him being happy with his marriage. You told yourself you were being stupid and projecting your bad marriage onto his.

You’ve seen his posts and heard him talk about Danneel. He’s head over heels for her. Who wouldn’t be. She’s absolutely gorgeous and she gave him three adorable children. You turned off the shower and got out. You realized just how sore you were from the accident. You smiled because you told Jensen you would be. Walking downstairs you called out for your son but he didn’t answer. You looked at your phone and saw you had some texts.

Jacob: Hey Ma. You were sleeping so I didn’t want to wake you up. Meeting some friends and going to the lake. Love you. I’ll have my phone if you need me.

You sent a reply back.

You: that’s great you’ve found some kids to hang out with. Have fun at the lake and be careful. Love you too kiddo.

The next text took your breath away.

Jensen: Good morning Y/N. I’m just seeing how sore you are today. I hope not too bad.

You smiled and felt your chest warm. You replied back.

You: Hey. Good morning to you too. Yeah I’m sore this morning but nothing I can’t handle. Thanks for checking on me. 😊

You bit your lip and smiled. You grabbed your coffee cup and started to make yourself a cup of coffee when your phone went off.

Jensen: I’m sorry you’re sore. Let me take you out for some coffee and maybe brunch if you’re feeling up to it this morning.

Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart beat wildly in your chest. This is just a friendly gesture. He’s a great guy WHO IS MARRIED! You yelled at yourself. Still you couldn’t help but feel a little excited.

You: Sure. That sounds great. Where would you like to meet?

Jensen: Great 😊 meet me at the coffee shop across from the ice cream shop. Can’t wait to see you. Meet you there in 20?

You: That sounds great. See you in 20.

You finished getting ready and paid close attention to your hair and put on light make up. This isn’t a date, it’s brunch with a friend. You told yourself to help with your nerves.

You drove to the coffee shop and saw him standing outside leaning against his beautiful 1967 Chevy Impala. Baby looks even better in person and damn did he look hot. He was wearing a t shirt that hugged his body, jeans, a backwards hat and sunglasses. It should be a crime to look that damn hot.

You parked and got out. When Jensen saw you he pushed off the car and smiled. “Glad you could make it” he said touching the small of your back. His touch ignited a fire on your skin. His hand guided you in. The hostess greeted you and sat you two at a table near the back. You were thankful it was away from people. Jensen pulled out your chair and you sat down thanking him. He smiled and nodded. He sat across from you and the air was filled with anticipation. The waitress came over and took your order and left.

There was a silence that fell over you two. Jensen broke the silence by asking “ Y/N are you sure you’re okay. You don’t think you need to go to the doctor do you?” You smiled softly and shook your head no. “I’ll be fine. Just tensed up too much during the wreck. I’ll just take some medicine and apply heat and ice.”

He smiled and said okay. “So was your husband upset about the accident. I’ll be happy to talk to him if he wants to talk.” Jensen said. Before you could reply the food and coffee came and you started to eat. “I appreciate you offering to talk to him. He wasn’t too concerned about the accident or anything. He was more concerned about talking to his girlfriend.” You blurted out without realizing.

Jensen’s eyes grew wide and he coughed choking on his coffee. “I’m sorry what” Jensen asked. You looked at him and then dropped your head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you that.” Jensen reached for your hand “Y/N, please look at me. Is your husband cheating on you? Please talk to me.” You looked at your hand in his and your heart sped up. Tears pricked your eyes and you shook your head yes. “That’s why we moved here. To save our marriage and get away from her. Little did I know he’s still seeing her. I overheard them last night and she’s moving out here to be with him. I feel so stupid. I honestly thought he was going to fight for our marriage. I was wrong. She’s about ten years younger than me, skinny and beautiful.” You looked at Jensen and you saw sadness and something else in his eyes. “You’re beautiful and you deserve someone who loves you and treats you like you’re the only woman on earth.” You smiled softly and took your hand back wiping your eyes. “Thank you Jensen”.

“So tell me about your family” you said as the two of you continued to eat. Jensen talked about his kids and his wife. His eyes sparkled when he talked about his kids. “So you met your wife years before you dated. That’s pretty cool.” You said.

A pregnant silence fell between you two again. You looked up at him and he looked at you. Time stood still. His eyes pierced your soul and your heart beat fast. You bit your lip and watched him mirror your action. His hand brushed yours and a spark shot through you. You knew he felt it too. You swallowed hard and excused yourself. As you stood so did he. “I’ll be right back” you said as your face blushed. “Okay” Jensen said softly.

You went to the bathroom and stood in a stall. Your heart beating so fast and loud it was ringing in your ears. You could feel the heat on your face and the warmth filling your soul. You can’t feel this way about him. He’s happily married and he’s just being nice. You took a really deep breath and walked out of the stall. You washed your hands and left the bathroom.

As you walked back to the table you saw Jensen’s face and he looked really upset. He was looking at something on his phone. You walked up to the table and he looked up. His green eyes filled with tears. “Oh my goodness Jensen. What’s wrong. Are you okay” you asked full of concern. He shook his head no. You started to panic. Thinking it was something you did.

The waitress came back and asked how everything was and you said great and asked for the check. Jensen wiped his eyes. You took his hand and told him you were there if he wanted to talk. When the check came Jensen paid even though you tried to protest.

The two of you walked out of the restaurant. His hand found its way to the small of your back again. He walked you to your car. “Jensen, thank you for a lovely morning. The food and conversation were wonderful. I really hope I didn’t do anything that caused you to get upset.” “Y/N, it wasn’t you at all. You’ve been amazing. Today has been amazing. I just received some pretty devastating news while you were away. I’m not sure how to process it. I’m sorry if you felt like it was anything you did. I really enjoy being around you.”

“Can I hug you” you asked Jensen. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly. God his arms felt amazing around you and he smelt incredible. As he pulled out of the hug he stopped and looked in your eyes. Instead of pulling away he started to lean back in. You froze and you saw his eyes trace your lips. Jensen took his hand, lifted your chin and placed a soft kiss on your lips. At first you didn’t know what to do. Jensen’s tongue licked your lips and you parted them. The next thing you knew your tongues were fighting for dominance. The kiss was amazing and sent chills through your body. You moaned into his mouth and his hand reached around into your hair.

You hadn’t felt this way in a really long time. Then reality came crashing down on your head. He’s married and so are you. You pulled away placing your fingers to your lips. Jensen looked at you “I’m sorry Y/N. I don’t know what came over me.” “It’s okay. I um I should go. Thank you again for brunch. Goodbye Jensen” you said as you got in your car.

You started the car, took one last look at him and drove off. Your heart and mind were racing. That kiss was incredible and you didn’t regret it. You just didn’t understand why he kissed you. On your way home your phone kept going off. In your hurry to leave you didn’t connect your phone to the car so you had to wait until you got home to check the messages.

You pulled in your driveway and noticed Rob was home early. It was a little strange but you didn’t think too much about it. You checked your phone and it was Jensen. He apologized for overstepping and told you he really did enjoy today. The next message said he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable but he doesn’t regret kissing you. Then the last message made your heart skip.

Jensen: Y/N. I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m sorry your husband doesn’t see how amazing you are. If you were mine I’d make sure you never questioned your worth or my love for you.

You smiled and wanted to reply but you weren’t sure what to say yet.

As you walked in the house you heard a weird sound. You put your stuff down and followed it. Standing at your bedroom door you saw what the sound was. Cindi was bouncing up and down on your husband. You stood there frozen. Then rage filled your whole body. They hadn’t seen you. “What the actual Fuck?!” You shouted. They stopped and Cindi screamed covering herself. You walked in the room and told them both to get the fuck out. Rob tried to plead with you and you told him to fuck off. Your marriage was over. You left the room going downstairs and a few minutes later they came down the stairs. Cindi hid behind Rob. You stood up and walked over to him. “I want a divorce. You lied to me. You told me this was over and it’s obviously not. Now you’re free to have her. I’m keeping the house and Jacob is staying with me. You will continue to support this household and once I find a job we will discuss child support. Now get out and leave your key.” You stood your ground while inside you were crumbling.

After they left you collapsed on the floor. Sobbing and cursing his name. Not thinking straight you picked up your phone and called Jensen. He answered but all he could hear was you crying. “Y/N? What’s wrong. What happened?! Where are you?!?” Panic filled his voice. You told him you needed him and gave him the address.

About 15 minutes later there was a knock on the door and Jensen came in. He saw you on the floor and ran to your side. He sat on the floor and held you. “Shhh it’s okay. Take a deep breath. Come on Y/N. Breathe with me sweetheart. (You took a deep breath with him) That’s right. Just like that.” He rubbed your back helping you calm down. “Whenever you’re ready tell me what happened” he said softly.

“I came home and saw Rob’s car. I thought it was weird. I came in the house, heard a noise and found him screwing his girlfriend in our bed. I lost it. Kicked him out and told him I wanted a divorce. I really am stupid. Thinking he would want me over her.” You sobbed again. “He’s a fool. An absolute fool to not want you.” Jensen kissed your head. “Oh Jensen, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have called you. I don’t know why I did.” “Yes you should have. I care about you and you shouldn’t be alone right now. Where’s Jacob” he asked you. “He’s at the lake with some new friends. I don’t want to bother him right now. I’ll talk to him when he gets home.” You sighed.

“Then I’ll stay here until he gets home. I don’t want to leave you alone” Jensen said helping you off the floor. “Jensen you don’t have to do that. Your wife and kids need you at home. I don’t know when Jacob’s coming home.” You protested. “The kids are spending the weekend with Jared and his family and Danneel, well she’s packing. She’s moving out.” He said softly. You looked at him shocked. “What? Was it me, us?” You asked. “No. It wasn’t you. When we were at the restaurant earlier, she told me she wanted to leave. She said she didn’t love me anymore that we had drifted apart and she had met someone.” He whispered. “Oh Jensen, I’m so sorry.” You wrapped your arms around him hugging him.

You met his eyes and he looked so broken. It broke your heart more than finding your husband in bed with someone else. You cupped his face and ran your thumb over his cheek. He leaned into your touch.

You leaned towards him and he towards you. Your breath hitched “is this okay?” He nodded “more than okay.” Your lips pressed softly against his plump pink lips. His hand found its way to your hair and your’s ran into his hair. Jensen pulled you deeper into the kiss. Your mind was racing. You both were still married but the marriages were over. Did that matter, could you two be together, did you care if it was wrong? All these things running through your head.

You moaned into his mouth. Jensen’s hands started to move around your body and he pulled you closer. You knew he could feel how fast your heart was pounding. The two of you parted to catch your breath. As you two parted you looked in his eyes. There was that look again. The one you saw earlier. There was no longer sadness in his eyes. No, the sadness was replaced with want. Jensen Ackles was looking at you with want and need in his eyes. He wanted YOU!

You smiled and laid your head on his chest. You wanted him too. More ways than you probably should. You could feel excitement through your body and slick pooling between your thighs. He pulled your body flush to his and you could feel his arousal press against you. You swallowed thinking about his body intertwined with yours.

As he lifted your face to kiss you again the front door opened. The two of you separated quickly and you looked up and saw Jacob. Jacob looked at you and then over at Jensen. His jaw hit the floor. “Um, mom. Why is Jensen Ackles standing in our living room?” He asked.

“Well, (you cleared your throat) Jensen is the one who hit my car yesterday. Honey go get cleaned up. There is something I need to talk to you about.” You said looking at your son. “Oh yeah, sure Mom. Um, Mr Ackles, I’m Jacob. It’s nice to meet you” he extended his hand. “Hello Jacob, please call me Jensen. It’s nice to finally meet you too.” He shook his hand.

Jacob left to go get cleaned up and you sat on the couch with Jensen. “Do you need me to stay with you” he questioned. “No, I’m okay. Jacob is a great kid. He’ll be here for me and I’ll be there for him. I’m more worried about you. I can’t believe she wants to split. It seemed like everything was okay.” You said holding his hand. “I’ll be okay. I have a great new friend that understands how I’m feeling. I appreciate your concern. How about we be there for each other. No expectations just friendship and a shoulder to lean on.” He whispered.

You smiled and nodded yes. “Can we at least talk about the kiss we shared. I’m not going to lie. It was amazing and I wanted it. I just want to know what it meant to you.” You whispered shyly terrified of the answer. “I wanted it too, Y/N. God you’re so beautiful and I really like kissing you. Right now our feelings are so raw I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with. I know we need time to figure us out, but I’d really like to get to know you more if you’re up for it.” Jensen cupped your face making you look him in the eyes. “I’d like that very much, Jensen. More than you know” you whispered. Like two magnets being pulled towards each other, your lips landed on each others again. This time the kiss seemed more needed and deeper. It reached your very soul and ignited a fire you thought was long extinguished. Jensen felt it too. He whispered “Call me later and let me know how it goes with Jacob”. He kissed you one last time before he left.

About ten minutes later Jacob came back downstairs and sat on the couch. “Hey Mom, what’s going on” he asked. “So I need to talk to you about something. I came home today and saw your dad was home. When I came in I found him in bed with his girlfriend. I kicked him out and told him I wanted a divorce. I told him you were staying with me and he would support this house until I find a job. So he’s not coming home.” You sighed. Jacob sat stunned and then looked at you. “I’m so sorry mom. I’m glad you kicked his ass out. You deserve so much better than that. I wouldn’t want to leave you so you’re stuck with me. Now, can we talk about why Jensen Ackles was here hugging you.” He laughed. “He’s just a friend. He really did hit my car yesterday and when everything happened today I needed someone to talk to. He hugged me because I was crying so hard. If anything develops between us you will be the first to know.” You reassured him. Jacob smiled at you “hey I wouldn’t mind having him as a stepdad.” You laughed and playfully hit Jacob’s arm. “Jacob Andrew, we aren’t dating let alone getting married.” You laughed. Jacob laughed and said “Mom, you’ve been out of the game too long but that man has it bad for you.” You smiled and told him to stop being silly.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was right though. Could Jensen really want you. You just met him. There is no way he already developed feelings for you, but that kiss. Man it was amazing.

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles @chriszgirl92

@n-o-p-e-never so sorry I forgot your tag 🤦‍♀️

#hes gorgeous #jensen ackles #so damn sexy #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles smut #jackles #jensen ackles x reader

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ritzylate · 6 months ago

Text

@saradika-graphics made the lovely dividers and also taught me what dividers were.

This is from a huge fic I'm writing and I'm posting entirely out of order. I plan on posting the whole thing on a different AO3 eventually. this is just the start of just one part of the story. I cut out the worst of the NSFW content. I'm saving that for AO3. Kinda wanna feel out the crowd to see if my writing is something people would enjoy reading.

"Caught" A Harvey x reader fic - NSFW

NSFW 18+ MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI I literally cannot say this enough. This is not for you.

Super dialog heavy.

Content warnings: Past relationship trauma, trauma and sadness in general, established relationship, adult entertainment, getting off. You get the idea.

AFAB!reader.

Word count: 3200 ish

I have trouble with tenses so I'm sorry if this is ass to read. I tried.

“So you're staying at Harvey’s then?” Robin asked.

“Yeah,” you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“That's great,” she says with a smile. “How are things going between you two? Good then?”

“Yeah,” you say with a little more conviction. “It's going really well, actually.”

You feel a smile spread across your face.

You hide your embarrassment by staring intently down at the pebble under the toe of your boot.

“That's so great!” Robin cheers. “Harvey is such a great guy, and he's not too bad to look at either,” she says with a wink.

You let yourself get lost in the thought of him for a moment before clearing your throat.

“I best be off,” you say. “I don’t want to get there too late. I don’t want to keep him from opening shop too late.”

Robin laughs to herself.

“Of course. Well, have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

“Robin, you're too young to lecture me on what to do,” you joke.

Robin throws her head back in a laugh and waves goodbye.

The short drive to Harvey’s place allows you time enough to think of how you want to thank him. A few obvious ideas cross your mind, but you shake them free, wanting to offer something special and more thoughtful than just that.

“Hey!” Harvey stands out front of his office, the morning sun bright and beaming.

You hop out and sling your arms around his shoulders.

“How are you doing darling?” he asks, holding you in a tight warm hug. The fall air smells of sweet leaves and honey.

“I’m good,” you smile. “Robin’s started on the renovations. Should be done in a few days. It really means a lot to me that you wanted me to stay.”

Harvey chuckles.

“Are you kidding? Of course I want you to stay. I’ve been waiting for today all week.”

Harvey leads you inside and up the stairs to his flat.

“You can put your bag anywhere. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll make us some coffee.”

As nice as a good breakfast or coffee sounded, you had to get back to work.

“You’re so sweet,” you say. “But I need to get to work, I have a long day ahead of me.”

“You need to eat,” Harvey said, flatly. “You can’t work if you don’t have enough energy. So sit. I have some pancake mix. I bought it just for today so if you don’t have any I’ll be sad.”

Harvey tosses you a sarcastic smile as he reaches into the cupboard.

“Okay, okay,” you say reluctantly, sliding onto the bar stool at the counter.

“So,” Harvey starts. “What do you have planned today?”

You sigh.

“A lot. I have some weeding to do, probably cut some trees down. Could use the firewood.”

Harvey nods as he listens to you spell out your mundane day.

“What about you?” you ask him over the rim of your coffee mug.

“Not much, honestly,” he says. “I have a few patients. But nothing big.”

A timer dings signifying the pancakes are ready.

“Here you are, dear,” he said, sliding the pancakes onto a plate.

“Thank you, Harvey,” you say earnestly. Your stomach rumbles at the idea of a pancake breakfast.

Harvey takes your plate and throws it in the sink as you finish your last bite.

“I’ll get to it later,” he says with a shrug.

“That was really kind of you,” you say shyly. It was hard for you to accept such kindness.

“Happy to do it.” Harvey watches you for a moment before drawing his attention to the clock.

“I better get down there,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Or Maru is going to tear me to shreds.”

You wipe the syrup off your lips with the back of your hand.

“Breakfast was lovely, Harvey, thank you,” you say again. You feel like there isn’t enough thanks in the world to express how much his gestures meant to you.

Harvey places his hand on the small of your back.

“Don’t work too hard today,” he says as he nudges you, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

When you arrive back at the farm, Robin is knee deep in her project. It’d only take three days, she said, but you have trouble imagining how such work could be done so quick.

You set to work at the farm. Your cows needed milking, your chickens needed feeding, there were new fruits found in the cave. But your mind wandered.

Wonder what Harvey is doing right now?

If Robin was paying any attention to you, she’d laugh at how blissfully unaware you were of your surroundings.

The sun sits high in the sky when you lean down to start plucking at the weeds biting at the base of your crops.

You yank at the greenery when you feel a tightening in your calf, followed by a sharp, sudden pain.

The pain catches you off guard, and you reach down to grasp at your leg.

You fight to stay on your feet, but before you know it you fall to the dirt.

“Are you okay??” Robin calls out. You hear her boots hitting the metal on her ladder.

“Oh what happened?”

“I don't know,” you say honestly. “I think I pulled something. I stood wrong or something. I'm fine.”

“Well. It's a good thing you're fucking the doctor, huh?”

You try to laugh, but the grimaced pain on your face won't go away.

Robin rubs your back.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't joke. When a farmer stops working because of pain, you know it's serious.”

“It's not serious,” you say. “I'm fine. But…maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to stop early.”

Robin wraps an arm under you and lifts you up. You hobble to your car, Robin helping you open the door to shuffle you in.

“I can drive you,” she offers.

“No no, I'm fine, I can make it. It's all good.”

Robin looks after you with a worried, motherly look on her face as you wave to her through your open window.

You pull up to Harvey’s clinic. The windows darkened except for a distant light shining through the hallway door leading to the stairs. .

The pain comes and goes, but either way, you really weren't getting that much work done. And you’re already here. No sense in returning only to have the pain spike again. You might as well call it a night.

You push the front door open into a near silent office. The only sound being a slight hum from the heater.

“Harvey?” But no one answers.

You close the door quietly, locking it behind you.

There are slight sounds emanating from beyond the stairs but nothing too distinct. Just enough to let you know he's home.

You climb the stairs, holding onto the wall for extra support.

The handle to Harvey’s flat sticks slightly, but gives way to a click with enough force.

“Harvey?” you ask again.

You move to peer round the door, not wanting to spook him. You press your knuckle to the door to give it a knock, but take pause when your brain catches up to what you're hearing.

Heavy breathing, soft moaning, the creak of Harvey’s leather chair.

You peek your head around the door just long enough to see Harvey at his desk. His laptop opened, the screen obscured by his bare chest.

Harvey’s head rests on the back of his chair, knees barely visible on either side of him.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes.

Your eyes widen from the shock. From this angle, you can't see much, but you still feel your cheeks flush.

You can see enough to watch him bring a hand to his forehead, running his fingers through his hair. He grabs a fistfull of his auburn locks, tightening them into a fist.

You shut your eyes, turning from the door. But the sounds of Harvey still wash over you like a wave.

You feel breathless yourself. What do you do? Do you say something? Interrupt? Do you turn and leave? And even then, what next? Wait a few minutes, then come back? Do you pretend you only just arrived, give him a shout up the stairs to give him warning? Do you lie and pretend you didn't see anything?

You decide that leaving would offer the most ideal situation for him. Leave, wait downstairs for a little bit, then come back up. He doesn’t have to know you were here. You pull the door towards you to slowly shut the door. As it swings shut, your boot catches the edge, causing the door to bounce off the rubber. The hollow squeak sounded louder than church bells in the current situation.

Harvey’s head whips around, his eyes widening in horror.

“Oh Yoba!” Harvey shouts, fumbling with his laptop screen. His hurried, frightened movements cause him to trip over himself, nearly knocking over the bookcase and all of its contents.

“I- it- oh my- I can't believe, I-” Harvey’s panicked voice rushing over his words.

“Hey, hey, it's okay!! Harvey, it's fine!” Your race to issue as much reassurance as you can through the half closed door.

“I wasn't, I mean, I was but, shit this is so embarrassing oh Yoba I don’t know what to say.”

You close the door over and hide even further behind it, teetering on the edge of the stairs.

You can barely make out Harvey's figure as he fumbles to pull his pants up around his hips before the door shuts completely. You hold onto the handle with one hand, your knuckles turning white from sheer panic.

“Harvey, really, you're fine! It's okay!!” you call through the door. “I'm so sorry I didn't mean to walk in on you, this is my fault, I'm so sorry.”

“You're just here earlier than I expected, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe-” Harvey pulls the door open, looking at you with a beet red face. You stumble over your feet to catch your footing.

Harvey narrows his eyes.

“Are you okay?” The panic in his voice fading immediately.

You don't say anything, feeling your own embarrassment sneak in.

“Your leg? What happened?” Harvey's voice shifts from anxious to concerned medical professional immediately.

You didn't realize you were still rubbing your calf.

“What?” You almost forgot. “No, I'm fine, I think I just strained it or maybe a charley horse, I'm fine. I thought maybe it was my sign to come back a little early. I should have texted you, I'm sorry.”

“Yes you should have!”

You feel a wash of shame at his voice being raised. This was all your fault, none of this had to happen if you had just been responsible and texted him first.

“You shouldn't have walked on it, I could have come and gotten you. That's what I'm here for. To help you.”

His words softened and by the end his voice was soft like satin.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have just let myself in. There’s nothing wrong really. I can go,” you offer.

You stand up straight, putting your weight mostly on the other leg.

The pain fades into a dull ache that feels more like a memory of an injury.

Harvey walks to you, placing a finger under your chin. He pulls your eyes to meet his.

“Hey, no, stay here. You don't have to leave. Let's get you off your feet.”

Reluctantly you follow Harvey into his flat, feeling a flush of panic and shame for having created such an uncomfortable situation.

“You don't have to do everything yourself, you know,” Harvey said.

You laugh to yourself, thinking of all the times you were really injured, and probably should have called upon him for help, but didn't. Of all injuries this was hardly the one you'd bother him with.

“I've been through so much worse,” you say, before realizing that was probably the last thing Harvey wanted to hear you say.

“It's just a muscle cramp. Really.”

You try your best to assure him, but the worry still sticks to his face.

Harvey runs his hand down your arm.

“Why don't we get you some water, sit down, relax a bit. If you're getting Charley horses you might be dehydrated. Or you're overworking yourself, but either way, water isn't a bad idea.”

You feel yourself blushing at how Harvey rushes to take care of you.

You don't say anything out loud at first; you just take a seat on your favorite stool.

“It seems we're both not used to having someone else fuss over us.”

Harvey reaches for a glass, his pj's riding down on his hip slightly.

“Whatever would give you that idea?” Harvey jokes.

Harvey’s voice returned to normal, but his eyes still held worry. His brows stitched together in concern. Concern for which one of tonight's events was a toss up. Probably both, realistically speaking.

As much as you hated to admit it, taking a load off felt nice.

The two of you fixate your gazes on the tap filling the glass. You wondered which one of you would break the silence first.

Harvey turns the tap off and leans over the counter to slide you your drink.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. You take a modest sip trying to draw out the silence until one of you finds the strength to speak.

To your surprise, it’s Harvey.

“Listen,” Harvey starts. “I-I would feel better if we just…forgot about what you saw. I honestly-I can honestly say I have never been more embarrassed by anything in my entire life.”

Harvey fixes his gaze on the floor, wearing away at an already thread barren towel sitting on the sink.

“Harvey.” You try to soften your voice as much as you can without sounding like you're patronizing him. You want to tell him you’ll forget all about it. You want to tell him there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but you know that won’t help the situation.

“I've always felt this weird, I don't know, shame? About that." Harvey makes a wide motion with his hands towards the corner of his room with his desk.

“I know all the facts, I know it's not weird and it’s common for a lot of people. I hear the shame and fear from patients myself, all the time! And I reassure them that, scientifically, it's not only safe but healthy. And if that doesn’t help and they still have concerns, I’ll suggest a therapist I know out of town, and they’ll come back to me telling me how much it’s helped them. I know all that. But…” Harvey trails off, tracing a finger along the edge of the counter.

“I find myself feeling weird about it too. Like, I don't…” Harvey shifts from foot to foot.

“Like you don't what?” You reach out, taking his hand in yours.

“I feel like I don't deserve it. I feel like, okay, sex, at least someone else is getting something. I'm serving a purpose. But by myself it's just me, and I struggle with the idea that I deserve it.”

You sit in silence, letting Harvey take his time and say whatever he feels comfortable saying.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I don't know why I'm telling you all this. This just made this even more embarrassing.”

You take a beat before speaking again.

“Thank you for telling me. You can always tell me whatever you want, and I want you to know how much I appreciate you sharing that with me. I know it can be hard.”

You reach a hand towards him, inviting him to your touch. He obliges, leaning into your cupped hand. You gently stroke his cheek, feeling the flush of his skin.

“But we don't have to ever talk about this again if you don’t want to. You have my word. I will speak of it no more.”

Harvey went quiet for several minutes. The only sounds coming from the ticking grandfather clock and the hum from the radiator.

You don't look away, keeping a soft gaze on his face.

“You don't think I'm weird for it?” Harvey’s voice was small, almost weak.

“Yoba no!” You exclaim. “I'd be a hypocrite if I did. My vibrator gets more use than my farm tools. My bottom drawer is as colorful as a rainbow.”

You offer him a lighthearted smile as your eyes search his face.

Harvey closed his eyes and nervously tapped his foot against the linoleum floor.

“That's really a relief to hear,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “My biggest fear was that you’d be upset.”

“Upset?” You tilted your head to the side. Upset? Upset about what? The very idea would never have crossed your mind.

“Yeah,” Harvey drawls. “One of my past partners felt a certain way about it. Certainly didn't help me with my own hang ups.”

“I'm really sorry to hear that.”

“Eh,” Harvey shrugged. “We were young. I wasn't exactly the most reasonable person either. It was just a bad time.”

You nod. We've all been there you want to say.

But instead you say, “just know that I’m here to listen. And if you want to stop, we stop. But I’m here to listen for as long as you want.”

This time Harvey is the one to nod. You can practically see his thoughts racing behind his eyes.

“It’s okay. We can keep talking. This is good.”

You settle into your seat and take a breath in. You open your mouth to speak, but just offer a smile, a nod, and a small squeeze of his hand instead.

“So you don’t think it’s weird?” he asks again, continuing to nervously shift around.

“I think it's hot,” you say with a shrug.

“Really?” Harvey’s surprise both visible and audible.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I would have been open to watching if that had been something you wanted. I panicked, and I didn't know whether to say something, leave and come back, pretend I didn't see anything and call out like I had only just arrived…”

“I would have picked the last one if you gave me the option,” Harvey said, putting his head down laughing.

“I'm so sorry,” you plead. “I was turning to leave, but I made too much noise. I’m truly sorry, I wasn't there for more than 5 seconds, I swear. I wasn't even sure what I was seeing at first, it was that quick a glace. If that helps.”

Harvey inhaled deeply.

“That actually does help,” Harvey chuckled.

“But-” he stuttered. “I'm kinda glad you didn't. Leave, that is. I'm kinda glad we're talking about this. Really glad, actually. Not just to clear the air, but because this feels like a really good conversation for us to have.”

Your heart beats out of your chest, you feel so warm and fuzzy.

“I really like you,” he says softly. Harvey looks up at you over the rim of his glasses.

“I like you a lot, so, this feels like something I should share with someone who I really, really like.”

“Oh Harvey,” you say, placing your hand over your heart. You had a million things you would have liked to say. But all you could do was sit there, staring at the man you were falling in love with, thinking about all the ways you wanted to kiss him.

“This is, I guess, my first real, mature, established relationship since college. And even then, I don't know if I can call any of those relationships mature or real.”

“I'm really honored to hear you say that,” you say in a voice closer to a whisper. You can barely hear him over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

Harvey closed his eyes and took in another deep breath.

“I guess that's the plus side of dating in your 30s, huh? We're all a little experienced.”

“A little traumatized,” you add. You sound like you're joking, and even though you both throw your heads back in a laugh, you both know you're right.

There's some more silence between you, but the air feels lighter.

Harvey rounds the corner of the counter and wraps his arms around you. He holds you in a tight hug. His heart sounded like a war drum.

“Thank you,” he says. His voice deep and echoing in his chest.

“You deserve to be happy, Harvey.” you say, absentmindedly running your fingertips down his back.

“I’m starting to believe that, now,” he said, pressing his lips to your forehead.

#Harvey x reader #the harvey brainrot is real #stardew valley harvey #Harvey smut #Harvey sdv fanfic #fanfic #harvey x farmer

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