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cupcakeinat0r · 7 months ago

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Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3

pt. 7

A/n: Hey y’all! Just a quick apology for such a long wait for an update, just came back from a relaxing vacay!! But as soon as I got off the plane back home, I started writing cuz the creative juices were juicinggg <3 Anyways, enjoy <333 Hopefully this serves as a good apology ;)

4 exams down, 3 more to go. The finish line of the semester was so close yet so far. Not gonna lie, your sanity was hanging on by a rope, your strongest and only support system being one person. He was the most sweetest, smartest, and respectful person you have ever had the blessing of meeting. It may not have been in the most conventional (or convenient) of ways, but still, it couldn’t have felt more like the storybook that you wanted and dreamed your life would be. Amidst your academic tribulations, he made you feel like royalty.

Even now, as you wait in the library and your phone goes off with a notification from Miguel, whom you had referred to as ‘Professor O’Hara’ only just a few months ago, you are still in dreamland with the fact that you were—

Well, at this point, you two haven’t quite fleshed out the label of y’all’s relationship just yet, but for now, you tell yourself that you two are talking. So yes, even now, you truly can’t believe that you are talking with your adorable professor.

You mentally take note that this will be a conversation that you two will have to have in the near future.

Your attention is now on your phone, reading a message under the contact name ‘Mig 🤓’.

“We ended earlier than planned. Headed over there now❤️”

You smile at the message, already typing a response up.

The night he told you about his late daughter was almost a week ago, and since then, y’all have set aside a day to go to the public library. You both agreed that it was nice, quality time, and wanted to do something like that again; just talking, being with each other, and forget about school for a while. Plus, exams have sort of kept yall apart for the past week, so it was very much needed.

Now you wait at the library where you and Miguel agreed to meet at after he finishes a recitation he had to substitute for.

‘ “Ended earlier than planned” ??? You’re not slick, DID YOU END CLASS EARLIER TO COME HERE???’

‘No, of course not, I would never do that.’

…

‘But maybe.’

‘Uhuh... See you soon <3’

‘See you soon, mamita ❤️😘.’

With a content hum, you put down your phone and turn your face toward the quiet buzz of people reading, chatting over coffee, and studying. Even though it's been months since knowing Miguel, you still feel jitters when about to see him. You can't help it. Everything about him makes you nervous in the best possible way. From how his smile lines crease, how that one little curl falls on his face, how he always speaks to you with a slight pout, the way his sweater vests hug around his full chest and soft tummy, all the way to how he looks at you like you’re his muse. You couldn't stop smiling just thinking about him. And to think, everyone in class just thought he was a total killjoy; backs straighten and all conversations cease when he enters the room. If only they knew the real him, but a part of you is glad you're the only one to see it.

Just a couple of blocks down, Miguel is gathering his things, excited to meet up with you. As he sharply nods to the last few students leaving the room, wishing them a good Summer break and luck on their finals, his expression becomes soft as he thinks of you. Quickly, once he has the room to himself, he takes a minute to put on one or two sprays of his best cologne, fix his hair, and remove his tie. He knew how much you liked it when he wore his button-ups like this; a few left unopened at the top. He felt ridiculous, but you always commented on it, and it would make Miguel feel good.

That was another thing; since seeing you, Miguel's confidence has so much improved. He did, however, take a glance over at his cardigan that hung on the back of his swivel chair and contemplated wearing it. It used to be his safety net; an effort to try and hide his soft figure, but that was old Miguel. New Miguel wanted to impress you and, even though he’d never admit it, would try to get the most compliments out of you. Despite feeling like he let himself go, you made him feel like he was a total knock-out, which never failed to make his cheeks grow darker, and he plans to return the favor for however long you’ll have him.

Miguel arrives, scanning the enormous room for you, a bright, colorful speck among the sea of dark-colored apparel. You wore an outfit he had bought you during the semester. He’s indifferent when looking for you, but when he spots you, his lips curled just slightly, the crows feet of his face creasing. He glides across the room, but any faster, he’d be running. He tries to act collected, but you both know he’s ecstatic to see you.

"Hey mama," He stands before you, holding out your hands as if to exhibit an art piece, "You look beautiful today, as always”. His eyes graze over every single inch of you, up and down. There’s something sexy about seeing you in something he bought you, even if it wasn’t all that exposing. You go in for a hug, acting as if you haven’t seen him in weeks (You both see each other in the hallways like every day, y'all just haven't been able to be with each other in a minute).

You smile against his broad chest, "Thanks, cutie, and you look handsome, as per usual.” You give his thick torso a soft run down with your hands. Miguel looks around bashfully, even though no one is paying attention. Physical touch came easy for him when you two were alone, but in public? That’s another story.

You look up to see his wandering eyes fall back on you. “I’ve missed you,” you shift all your weight onto him, holding onto his waist like a koala bear on a tree. You get on your tip toes to reach his cheek, pressing a kiss there, “mwah! so much.” The simple gesture was enough to turn Miguel into a mess. It takes everything in him not to completely smother you out in the open, but would rather save that for when there’s privacy.

Miguel holds you as if you were a porcelain doll. Something rose in his chest, call it pride; Proud to show off the gorgeous woman in his arms. "I missed you more." He says softly.

"So? How was the class?" you hold onto his hand while looking for a place to live in for the afternoon.

Miguel looks as well and spots a vacant, quiet little corner of the library, one that sits almost separate from the rest of the crowd. He gives your hand a small tug, motioning for it. "It was actually quite nice. The students were pretty engaged for it being an 8AM... I dunno, I might pick it up next semester." He sets his bag down before grabbing you a chair for you to sit on, as well as a cushion for you to lay your back on. He grabs a stool for himself once he sees you're comfortable and sat.

You give his forearm a caress, a small act of encouragement, "Well, I think you should. You're so good at what you do. Trust me, I should know." you give him a smirk, making him crack a smile.

"Which reminds me, you feel good for tomorrow? 'cuz if you're needing review for anything, we could go over it right now-" You place a hand on his arm, "Mig! I'm fine! I feel completely fine. Besides, I've tutored over a dozen people, I pretty much know the material like the back of my hand. Please, relax, you need it."

Miguel sits back now, "But if you change your mind, you'll let me know, right?" You nod, and Miguel relaxes at last. He sees the book you pull out and reads the spine of it. Wuthering Heights. It’s one of Miguel’s personal faves. He looks forward to seeing your small reactions once you get toward the end. It was endearing the way you reacted to what you read, let it be a faint widening of your eyes or a small gasp. He also loved watching your concentrated face. He thinks back to all those lectures he spent watching you take your color-coordinated notes in his class, your glossed lips pursed and your eyebrows faintly knitted. It never went unnoticed by him. Adorable.

You do a double-take at Miguel's choice of book, not believing what you read the first time. "Jane Austen?" "…Yes?" "You like Jane Austen?" "Yes. " Miguel says this so matter-of-factly, it leaves you kind of in shock. It was a cute surprise. Smiling, you let a puff of air out your nose, shaking your head as you open your book. “What’s so funny?” Miguel smiles, wanting know what you’re thinking now.

“Ugh, I-“, You almost let a certain 3-word phrase slip from your lips, but you stop yourself. “ I… just wasn’t expecting that, is all. Have you read ‘pride and prejudice’?”

“Yeah, loved it. It’s why I’m reading this one.” He looks down at the cover, which, in intricate letters, reads sense and sensibility. Your smile is even wider now that you know the man of your dreams is a fellow Jane Austen fan. “Me, too. Let me know what you think, then.” You softly say, starting on your book. “Of course. By the way, anyone ever taught you not to judge a book by its cover?” You roll your eyes and nudge him, making him chuckle in his throat. Although Miguel’s humor wasn’t exactly the most original, his sass takes the cake, and you love it. Feeling romantic, Miguel leans over and kisses your cheek once, twice, then gently brings your lips to his by your chin to plant a third kiss.

After finally quenching his need for your kisses, he settles in his spot and reaches for your hand, which you grab instinctively. Like always, his thumb caresses across your knuckles, and you both fall into a peaceful silence, transporting to your individual worlds within your books.

The time in the library is nothing short of peaceful and fun. The first while of reading, Miguel would get up to use the restroom, but on his way back, he would’ve gotten you a cup of coffee for you and himself. A little later, you’d get up as well, but not for the restroom, but to grab him a treat, as well as for yourself. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise when he sees you walk back with them in your hands. He always did have a sweet tooth.

For the rest of the time, you’ll reach over occasionally to push his glasses back up his nose, or sometimes, without looking up from his book, he’ll simply pull your hand up to his lips, and press a butterfly kiss there, the faint smack of the peck making your heart skip a beat. And he doesn’t just do it once, he has to do this every so often because he just can’t resist; the man needs to feel you like as if you’ll disappear out of nowhere.

And you don’t notice, but every now and then, Miguel looks over at you, just admiring. He watches how your eyes inch deeper into the pages as you soak in the language. He can stay like this forever. Reading books with you while you hold hands. For a second, he feels the bottom of his stomach drop because he knows the day will have to end, and he’ll have to go back to class tomorrow, as do you. Sure, you’ll both be in the classroom, but you’ll have to pretend. Miguel was growing tired of the game. He then thinks about how near Summer is, and if he’ll see you then. Not as your professor, but as someone who deeply cares about you.

He’s already making plans on the possible trips you two could make. Maybe spend two weeks in Italy, or maybe just simple weekend roadtrips to nearby, quaint towns. He’s thinking about taking you to only the nicest, fanciest places in Nueva York.

Guiltily, his mind wanders into trips to the bedroom. How he’d love to take care of you and make sure you felt loved. Above all, your pleasure would be his. Oh, how he’d worship you like the goddess you were because dammit, you are one, and to this day, he’s still unsure how he scored you. How he, the intimidating, quiet giant, won an ethereal princess like you. He sort of smiled to himself as he realized:

Gabriella’s favorite bedtime story was becoming his life right before his eyes.

And like many times before, Miguel’s mind wanders even more. He’s thinking of the wedding, the honeymoon and the endless amount of rounds, the baby shower… having a kid with you. He’s fully aware of how crazy it is to think about it so soon, but at the same time, it feels so right. With you, it does.

Your caring, attentive nature, sweetness, cleverness, patience, and drive, they were all qualities of someone he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with. Your desire to better yourself and hunger for knowledge is evident in your work for your masters. Your softness that had so remarkably torn down his walls. And of course, there was your unmistakable beauty, but that’s just a bonus!

As he continues to watch you read, your hand lovingly locked with his, he realizes his feelings are no longer casual, no. Miguel’s breath hitches when a realization dawns on him. Rather than a ton of bricks, it feels like a weight lifted off his stiffened shoulders.

He looks at you, and he feels what could only be described as true, total, and complete love.

“‘Scuse me, sir.” Miguel snaps toward the low voice, “Library’s closing in 10 minutes.”

These hushed words sweep your attention from the book in your hands, your face falling in small dismay. You both look at each other, Miguel giving you a shrug that conveys ‘it is what it is’.

“Aw man, I got so caught up in reading, I feel like we didn’t get to talk as much as I wanted to.” Miguel is gathering both of yalls things, leaving your hand for last. You grab his, and you both begin to head out, the swarm of people that was here before gone. “We can still talk if you’d like. We can go to my office?” You nod gingerly.

“Then c’mon, let’s go.” Without asking, he grabs your bag from you and slings his and yours onto his shoulder, and you both leave hand in hand.

After braving the storm that seemed to come out of nowhere outside, Miguel lets you into his office first, closing the door behind you two. The campus was dimly lit, only housing a few students who were doing some late-night studying. Hopefully, no one saw you two shuffling toward his classroom.

You look around his office, and for the first time, if feels new. It’s somewhat dark, the storm outside supplying the only light in the room. You’ve been in here countless of times, helping Miguel out with class work or tutoring, so it shouldn’t feel any different, yet, it does. Maybe it’s because every time you’re in here, you’ve never got the chance to really look at it. You’re always in and out. And if y’all weren’t in here, you were sitting in the lecture hall just outside the office door. Now that the fluorescent lights are off, you realize just how clinical they made it feel in here.

Miguel observes how you look along his walls where a multitude of diplomas hang. He thinks about saying something, but doesn’t want to interrupt; instead, he allows you to examine his space, finding it charming. It’s like he’s letting you in on his life. He pretends to busy himself with something else, leaving you to explore. Which is fine, really. You two have fallen into many comfortable silences before.

Then you move onto his shelf, filled with nothing but books and maybe one picture frame, but you’re not sure. It’s laid flat on the shelf. You go away from it for a second, going back to the spines, reading them off in your head. Some DNA encyclopedias, anatomy studies, Genetic Theory… ah, here we go. Leroux, Fitzgerald, Verne… is that Shelley? Atwood? Woolf? Plath?! Then, of course, there’s Beauty and The Beast. You pause there for a second, remembering Miguel’s most cherished memories that are tied to this story. Some more Jane Austen… oh, and look, Wuthering Heights!

“You’re more than welcome to take any of those. What’s mine is yours.” He sits on the couch that sits along the wall of his office, laying back with his arm laid across the frame of it. You pull out Wuthering Heights and walk towards him, “What’d you think of this one?” You go to take a seat next to him, nuzzling against his side, your head at its assigned spot on his shoulder. “Nice try, sweetie, but don’t wanna spoil it. Though I will say, it’s really good.” his face brightens along with yours, “I think you’ll like it. Brace yourself for the ending, though.” His arm wraps around you now, his thumb making small circles on your shoulder like he usually does.

“How about Miss Austen?” You put the book on a small table beside the couch. Miguel thinks about it for a second. “She’s got this sort of sarcastic wit that I can really get behind. But in all seriousness, her social commentary is brilliant. Still applies to this day, in some ways. And her style, wow…” You can see Miguel get lost in his thoughts, his emotions having their rare time in the limelight as he proceeds to list off Jane Austen’s wonderful writing attributes. It felt so good to see him like this. To be able to get him talking like this was a big win in your book.

“…Just overall, I’m a total fan now.” He nods, looking over at your dazzling eyes. “No, no, keep going.” You urge him, overcome with adoration. Miguel smiles at the floor, shaking his head. “I can listen to you talk allll day, honestly.” He looks off into the office still smiling bashfully, away from your revering gaze. “D’aw, don’t be so shy, I love listening to your voice. It’s so soothing, Mig.”

“You’re… stealing my lines.” A chuckle rumbles in his chest while you taunt him with a giggle of your own. In an effort to quiet you and from flustering him further, he envelopes you with his arms, you reaching for his neck simultaneously, and you both meet in the middle with a kiss so sweet, it could develop diabetes. With your lips locked, he grabs your thigh and swings it over his hips, his soft stomach taut against yours. You both smile against each other’s lips, soft laughs in tune with the rain that hits against walls outside.

Sooner than later, Miguel’s small chuckles turn into soft groans, his breath becoming labored. His hands venture up under your top, fingers ghosting the skin above the waistband of your skirt. You taste of… cherry lip gloss. His favorite taste, and in the past couple of weeks, he’s grown addicted to it. As a matter of fact, he’s become so addicted that he tends to bite and pull at your bottom lip, a gesture that never failed to leave you weak in the knees.

The hungry tug of your lip evoked a small whine from your throat, unleashing something in Miguel. Carefully, he laid you on the couch, your bodies entangling in languid unison with your tongues. The feeling of all of Miguel’s weight on you set a flame off within you, his length pressing along your dampened heat each time he dug his hips. You wanted it, and bad. Needed it like your life depended on it, but your conscious was screaming at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t ignore it.

“M-mig, w-wait.” You manage to breathe out, the heart between your legs unable to agree with the brain in your head. You hated stopping where things were headed, but you had reason.

Miguel’s head shot up from your neck where it was planting hickies on. “Are you okay? You wanna stop?” He’s already sitting up, removing himself from your legs, “Mama, I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked, want me to take you home? If you want to, I can take you-“ Miguel was so worried, he’d rather die than you feel taken advantage of. “Miguel! It’s okay, I’m fine!” You reassure him softly, sitting up as well to keep him seated. “Trust me, I wanted this, too. It’s not you at all. I just…” you grab his hand, thinking of your next words. Your shoulders droop from what you’re about to say. Miguel looks at you with a soft expression, ready to be here for you in any way.

“Look, we both know we shouldn’t even be here, and not just in this office, I mean being together period. And what worries me the most is not even the fact that we could get caught, but the possibility that maybe you’ll…” Miguel motions for eye contact when he sees you retreating to the floor. “Mamita, tell me, please. Dime que quieres. Nothing you say can upset me or change the way I think of you. Nothing.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m only in this for the wrong reasons.” Miguel’s brows furrow in confusion. How could he possibly think you’re using him? “Sweetie, why would I…” And it clicked just as fast as he began speaking. Miguel seemed to be going deep into thought. You were scared that maybe you had said something wrong.

“Miguel, please understand that I care about you so so so much, and because I do, I don’t want us to be intimate with each other until the school year is completely over.” You’d thought things through since becoming romantic with Miguel, and the thought that If y’all had sex, there would’ve been the risks of people finding out, you losing your eligibility for a degree that you were three exams away from obtaining, or worse, Miguel losing his job as professor and probably being blacklisted for the rest of his life. A very small part of it was also that you didn’t want your score on his exam to be affected in any which way. If you happen to not do well on the exam, you wanted the grade you deserved. There was simply too many downsides.

He looks back up at you, not a trace of judgment nor anger on his face. “Mama, you don’t have to explain yourself. The ball is in your field. Whatever you want or need, I’m right there with you. Don’t ever feel bad for what you want, okay?” Your lips curl in relief, and you nod slowly. He brings his hand to your face, allowing you to lean into his touch. “And to be honest, I couldn’t agree more. But even after classes end, even then our speed is still up to you. I’m not ready to take things further until you are.”

How lucky am I to have someone like him? I’m not entirely sure who’s up there or who to thank exactly, but oh my goodness, thank you for giving me this perfect man sitting before me.

“You mean it? I mean, you’re not disappointed or anything?” Miguel shakes his head. “Not even for a second.” Filled with joy, and almost knocking him over, you embrace him.

“We could just stay in here and chat. Would you like that?” He speaks softly against your hair. “I would love that.”

Miguel and you lay on the couch (which fits you just fine, but Miguel’s feet were borderline hanging off the end), Miguel the big spoon, and you the little one. Your head lays against the decorative pillow while he props his on his hand.

You nestled against his frame, feeling the steady rise and fall of his tummy against your back. His arm encircled your waist, holding you securely against him as you melted into each other's warmth. "Are you comfortable?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. "Mhm, more than comfortable," you replied with a contented sigh."You make a pretty good body heater," you teased. He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Glad I could be of service, Princesa.” He plants a sustained kiss to your temple.

Your gaze falls softly on the wall across from you, your eyes traveling along the diplomas, “Did you always wanted to be a teacher?”

“Well, when I was little, I did. I loved science and there was this one teacher I had… she was the best. Wanted to be just like her. But…” Miguel breathes out. You can feel his stomach tense up against your back, prompting you to turn your head towards him. “Y’know… um… I didn’t always teach.”

Miguel would go on to tell you how the past five years has looked for him. He began with a rather heavy start; a freak accident in his work as a geneticist, a job much more lucrative than a professor. He’d then recount his days as a hero, proceeding to show you his long-retired claws. You listened intently, with an open mind, following along to his story of how he got involved with the multiverse, and what that term entails. He explained how the world was connected to other worlds; a prodigious tree of universes. It was how he lost his daughter. He revealed the tragic story to you finally, after withholding it that first night he told you about her in the school library. He recollected a few more memories that would eventually lead to his decision to hang up his hat as Spider-Man, finding refuge in becoming a science professor; an old dream he had abandoned so many years ago.

“And since then, I’ve been… okay. Better than before, for sure. I’m satisfied here, truly.” You sat there, processing everything he had shared with you. “I know that was a lot, you don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad that I could share this with you.” You nod, trying to think of what to say because silence just wouldn’t suffice, not for you. “I…” you began, your voice low and soft, “But are you happy?”

Miguel is taken aback by the question. Even after everything he’s said…the man just got done telling you he has fangs and red irises and that he traveled across dimensions for a living, and this is your first question? If he’s happy? He told you a story that could possibly have the fbi sent to his door with just one call, but you’re more interested in his wellbeing? He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe you.

Miguel lets out a sharp breath; a chuckle, as his eyes narrow at you. “You’re unreal, you know that?” Your lips reflect his small smile, “What?! I wanna know, after everything… are you happy?” You repeat the question with utmost genuineness in your tone.

With the answer as obvious to him as the formulas he taught in his class, Miguel simply leans in, hand on the back of your head, and kisses you, then pulling back by just an inch, he speaks softly,

“Now that you’re here, I am.”

A/n: I hope y’all enjoyed it <3 Shoutout to @pomakori for sending this photo in, I absolutely loved it and had to include it in this chapter cuz it’s so them coded !!!

(Like ❓❓ this is so them‼️ n u can’t change my mind‼️)

Thank you so much for reading <3 I’m a lil worried about how long it might be, so sorry if I yapped too much on this one 🫶 I just love n care abt him sm, ur honor🥹

Want some more Dadbod!Miguel? Here’s my master list, bae!

Tags<3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi i @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @safixiovi

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #dadbod!miguel #professor!miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel spiderman #spider man 2099 #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara smut

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vnti-vnxiety-recs · 1 year ago

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Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (M)

★ PAIRING: Academic rival!Haechan x afab/fem!reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 4.8k

★ GENRE(S): Smut, E2lover, Rival2lovers

☆ SUMMARY: Haechan and you have never gotten along, and your friend group is sick of it, so they make a bet that the two of you can't ignore. When put to the test, will your hatred for each other still stand?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: 18+, minors do not interact, Meandom! Haechan, aphrodisiac drug, mentions of drinking, sexual bet, sexual intercourse, swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, Haechan being mean, lowkey forgot what I wrote, so just BEWARE.

☆★ NOTES: Yuh! This idea has been stuck in my head for a while. Another saga of me failing the Don't write another hate2love challenge! FYI, I'm not a writer; I'm just a person who writes occasionally. Lovers in e2l not found more of a fuck buddy type relationship. Anyway I just wanted to say thanks for the support on my other fics. I don't usually write that often but the good feedback encourages me.

At this point, your friends were getting tired of it. You two were constantly at each other's throats. They initially believed you could'nt stand one another, but recently, the atmosphere in the room after your shouting matches was too intense to be fueled solely by animosity. The flames behind your eyes burned too brightly for them to be caused by resentment alone. They used to hold you back from lunging at him, but now they wondered what would really happen if you got your hands on him.

Haechan and you had known each other since middle school. You two shared a lot of the same classes, and unfortunately, you both had parents who expected you to excel in school. You were always trying to one-up each other or stamp out the other's resolve. Your relationship was rocky from the start, and even if you two weren't fighting for the top spot, you doubt you would find him likable.

Haechan was a natural at everything. He didn't have to try very hard to be the best; he just got it. On the other hand, despite spending hours studying, you could just barely match his performance. You were jealous of how easy he made it look. The fact that he would flaunt his success in your face didn't help.

“Can't keep up?” He would say after outperforming you on the final exam by 10 points, he had that same smirk that seemed permanently etched onto his face on full display. You had spent days preparing for the test, even skipping a few hours of sleep. Haechan never studied; the most he ever did to prepare for an exam was to quickly skim the material a few hours before the test. Even then, he would still ace it.

You expected to grow up and put the rivalry behind yourselves during high school, but he would jump at any chance to make you look like an idiot. You could say the sky was blue, and he would argue that it was actually the reflection of the ocean that gave the sky the illusion of being blue. Back in middle school, you limited all interactions with him for your own sanity. However, in high school, he somehow managed to join your friend group, so you were forced to endure him during hangouts. You eventually got used to his presence and the non-stop teasing. It wasn't until you received your acceptance letter to the college you would be attending with your friends that you thought you would finally be free from him. Haechan's parents had wanted him to go to a college that was 4 hours away from your hometown, and you counted down the days until graduation.

Luck was never on your side.

Due to Haecahan's tendency to put things off, he wasn't able to submit his application in time, and as the school was very competitive, the available spots quickly filled up. Luckily for him, your college had an extended application process, which allowed him to send it in late, and he was accepted. Now here you are two years into college, and Haechan is still insufferable.

You two were on two completely different career tracks, so your classes never overlapped, so at least you stopped fighting about grades. Being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore, anyway. You hated the pressure that your parents put on you growing up. Before, you would have had a heart attack if you saw a B, but now you just shrug them off. Even still, all you two do is just have petty arguments because that's all you have ever done.

“You would not be able to see an explosion in space; it's a vacuum; fire can't exist.”

"Well, I've seen Star Wars, so I think that proves my point.”

“That's Fiction! You know, like the idea of you having a brain,” you roll your eyes.

“Almost like your sense of humor? I was joking. Of course I know that I took astronomy before you," he smirks.

He was constantly trying to get under your skin. You take a long breath and try to calm yourself down. "Well, yeah, because I took a different science asshole." Your friends say it's because you always give him a reaction, but you hate being wrong. You had to get the last word, especially against know-it-alls like him.

Despite your complaints, he isn't entirely horrible. On the days that you two aren't arguing, he's making you laugh so hard that you practically fall over. He's not a complete jerk all the time; it's just that once you two get started, it's hard to stop.

“Oh please, can you two cut it out? You have either had too much alcohol or not enough if you can still think about arguing,” your friend Johnny slurs.

It's Saturday night, and you have just finished off an exhausting exam week. Your friends felt a celebration was in order to wind down from the trying week. Now the only thing trying was Haechan testing your patience. You're at Johnny's house, and everyone is spread out around his spacious living room, bottles of alcohol scattered several surfaces. Johnny’s family was well off, and he lived off campus in one of the few estates that his family owned. The house had two stories and a pool in the backyard. On the weekends, you would spend the most of your time here.

“You're right I came here to relax, not burst a blood vessel.” You sigh and take a seat next to Johnny on the couch. You take a couple sips from whichever unopened can of cheap alcohol is nearby. Even though you could already sense a buzz coming on, it needed to hit harder if you were going to have to deal with Haechan all night.

Hyuck chuckled and found a spot on the carpeted floor. "Sorry, the princess just seemed like her day was going too well; I had to ruin it a little," he said.

Your friend Yuna raised an eyebrow in his direction and smirked as she took another sip of her drink. “For you to hate her so much, you sure do spend a lot of time thinking about her.”

“One point Yuna, '' you smile at your friend's rebuttal. Arguing with Haechan could be tiring, but your roommate always had your back.

“I think you two just need to hug it out... in a room... alone,” your other friend Mark joked.

You dryly laugh, "So funny."

“You scared?” Hyuck says with a wicked grin. He leans back on one arm as he sips on his drink, still eyeing you confidently. It's at times like these that you betray yourself the most. He looks so good with his light brown hair framing his face; it's grown so long now that it covers his eyes if he doesn't push it back. The alcohol must be hitting because now all you can imagine is pulling on the soft brown locks and not out of anger. You must have taken too long to reply, because now he's raising an eyebrow at you.

“I wouldn't want to be alone with you even if you were the last person on earth."

Johnny cuts off Haechan's response before he can start. "Want to test that theory?"

Questions run through everyone's mind as you all turn to look at Johnny after his outburst.

“What, are you gonna kill us or something?” Haechan responds wearily.

"No, but I should, with the headache you have given me.”

“So…?” You urge him to continue.

"You two keep saying how much you can't stand each other, so how about we put that to the test?" Johnny closes with a sinister grin.

“I feel like you're gonna say something really stupid next." Mark comments

Johnny ushers your other friends into a huddle and tries his best to whisper in his drunken state.

"Guys, just hear me out? We can all feel the tension between these two. They clearly need to fuck or something, so how about we help them along so we don't have to deal with them trying to tear each other apart?”

“How would we do that?”

“We can hear you, and I am NOT fucking him."

“Oh come on, we see the way you two look at each other; you're both just too stubborn to realize it.”

"Hyuck, don't just sit there; help me out here!" you plead

“They have a point, though; you do want to fuck me,” he confidently adds.

"Please, you would be lucky enough if I poked you with a stick,” you say in distaste.

“Order! Order!” Johnny slurs, "Look, I have a way for you both to prove yourselves,” using his beer can as a makeshift gavel.

“Yeah, where were you even going with all of this? Man get to the point,” Mark mutters as he gets comfortable on the sofa.

“"What if you two take an aphrodisiac together and try not to touch each other? If you can last, then you two will win and show everyone how much you despise one another."

The room is silent when Johnny finishes pitching his idea. You think he definitely had one too many drinks tonight. What kind of plan was this? There was no way in hell you would go along with ANY of Johnny's half-baked ideas, but this one was especially crazy. You were just about to shoot down the idea when another voice interrupted you.

“I'm down. What? You can't stand the idea of keeping your hands off me?” Haechan grumbles upon seeing your reaction.

“what? I was just thinking this is stupid. What do I even get out of this? I don't care what you people think,” you huff.

“How about I give you each $500 if you win?”

“Do you-” you start.

“AND Mark does your homework for 2 weeks.”

“Hey! I didn't-” mark says

“AND Yuna does your share of the chores at your dorm.”

“WHA-!” yuna argues

"Deal," you quickly say before anyone can finish their complaints.

"Dude, this is not what we discussed,” Mark complains. Johnny whispers to him about something, and he perks up a little as Johnny makes him a promise. "Fine"

Johnny lays down the rules for you two. You and Haechan will both take an aphrodisiac pill and be restricted to the upstairs bedroom. You’ll have to stay in the room with each other for 3 hours, and if you two can withstand the 3 hours without touching each other, you win. If you lose, you both have agreed to play nice with each other or at least around other people.

As soon as you both take the pink pill, Johnny starts the timer. You make your way up the stairs to the bedroom, where you often crash on the weekends. This was definitely not how you thought you would be spending the weekend.

“We’ll come knocking when the time’s up! Yuna yells from downstairs.

You pout playfully and mock her from over the railing of the stairs. She was supposed to be the reasonable one.

“Oh real mature,” Haechan chuckles as he shuffles past you up the stairs. The staircase was really narrow, and you could practically feel his body heat against you as he went. The pills' effects haven't even fully settled in yet, and you're already feeling things you shouldn't. If you were planning on winning, you would have to get it together. Maybe this wasn't as easy as you thought.

As you make your way up the remaining stairs, you see Haechan standing by the door frame, waiting for you. He rolls his eyes. "You're stalling."

You murmur under your breath, "I'll literally give you my half of the money if you shut up for the next three hours," but drag yourself into the room nevertheless.

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The first 20 minutes aren't terrible. You guys make yourselves comfortable on opposite sides of the room and pick a random wall to stare at. As Haechan makes himself comfortable on the room's lone bed, you take a seat on a little bench that lines a sizable window. You're grateful he keeps his mouth shut. This was probably the longest you two have been in each other's presence without speaking.

It wasn't until about 30 minutes in that the effect hit you. Your breathing grew labored, and your blood started to flow through your veins more quickly. Your body started to heat up. To cool down, you placed your face on the window, breathing fogging the glass. When you looked up to see how Haechan was fairing, he was already looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes as his chest expanded with each deep inhale.

As much as he got on your last nerve, you had always thought he was attractive. His tan honey skin that glowed in the sunlight, his pretty moles that you would kill to kiss, and his gorgeous eyes that always made your heart beat just a little harder when he would glare at you whenever you hit a nerve. You loved seeing him worked up, but the few moments you got to see him when he was happy were moments you stored deep in the vault of your heart. You hated him; there was no time for admiring him.

You tried to shove those thoughts away, but It was as though all the thoughts you had been working so hard to suppress had suddenly surfaced. All you could think about was his plump lips and how they would feel on your body. How his fingers would feel encircling your throat, pressing the chilly rings that decorated his hands against your skin. His golden locks flowing through your fingers as you hold him close. You couldn't resist licking your lips at the idea.

“Don't fucking do that,” he abruptly spoke. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. He spreads his legs further, trying to get comfortable in his spot across the room.

You try to fight the urge, but your eyes travel down his body to the bulge in his sweats. You immediately cross your legs at the sight. You had to clutch onto the pillows of the seat you were in; otherwise, you don't think you could stop yourself from crossing the room in a heartbeat.

“What? Can't handle it hyuckie?” You coo at him, using the old nickname you haven't called him since middle school. You had to find some ground in this setting. You couldn't let him see how weak he was making you.

"Out of all the times you pick to be a brat, now is not the time," he grumbles mockingly.

“Why? Am I getting on your nerves? Hmm, I could only wonder what that must feel like,” you sneered. You were so horny, it's pissing you off. You decide Haechan can use a taste of his own medicine, and what better way to blow off steam than to get under his skin?

“Maybe they were right. Maybe you do need a good fuck for you to lose the attitude.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

"Careful," he smirks, licking his lips.

You know that look; he's testing you. He's daring you to say something else.

"That's what I thought," he says, closing his eyes and attempting to control his breathing.

⋅��──⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You're about an hour in, and you can't take it any longer; you're practically rutting against the seam of your jeans, hoping for some kind of friction.

"Please, I can't do this anymore," you cry out for air. You turn to face him, but he doesn't answer. His eyes are closed, and his brows are drawn together as if he's in pain.

“Haechan!” You scream again; this time he slowly opens his eyes, and you suck in a breath as your eyes meet. His pupils were completely blown as sweat pricked his brow.

“Are you giving up?"

You nod in response.

“That's too bad; I still want to win,” he smirks lazily.

"Let's just forfeit; this is stupid!” You stand from where you were seated and head to the door. This prompts Haechan to finally move from his spot as he uses his long legs to cross the room in three wide strides. Before you can open the door, he stops you. For the first time since you two entered the room, he touches you. While keeping his body an arms' length away from you, he is shoving you up against the door by your shoulders. Your body is on fire at the mere touch, and you're grateful for the little bit of space he has given you.

“Calm down. Think this through,” he huffs as if out of breath. “just-just think of the money.”

“I don't care about this stupid bet! I feel like I'm going to explode,” you cry, fighting to escape his hold, but he just pins you back against the door.

“How about I take care of it then? Hmm?” He begs, never breaking eye contact. “I'll take the pain away, baby. Just work with me, yeah?"

"That defeats the point Haechan; we aren't supposed to touch each other; I thought you were smarter than that," you protest, growing increasingly frustrated.

“As long as you keep those gorgeous lips shut, nobody would ever know.” He slowly closes in on you as he speaks. “I help you out, and when we get out of this room, we pretend like nothing happened, and that we still can't stand each other, deal?” He's a breath away. The close proximity, the way he's practically breathing down your neck, and the look in his eyes that tells you he is only about 2 seconds away from devouring you were all you needed to go along with Haechan's scheme.

You stopped listening about halfway through anyway so you nodded mindlessly before closing the remaining space between the two of you. You're pushing off the door and pressing your body against his as you guide him towards the bed. Even though you can both feel your lungs starting to burn, neither of you has the strength to break the kiss. When his legs met the edge of the bed, he sat, giving you both time to regain your breath. He's resting back against his hands, looking up at you, and his legs are spread wide as if he were offering himself to you.

"Come on princess, take whatever you want from me," he smirks as you get into his lap and nestle down against the tent in his pants. You push him until his back is flush against the mattress, then mindlessly grind down on him. You use his chest to steady yourself as you throw your head back and drown in the feeling. You feel Haechan's hands gripping your waist and then traveling up your torso. His hands explored your body as you got lost in each other. Haechan sits up to meet your lips in another passionate kiss. As he deepens the kiss, he clutches your waist tightly to restrict your movements. You whine at the lack of stimulation, but all he can do is smile against your lips in return.

“Be patient baby; let me love on you.”

“This…was…not…a part of…the deal,” you try to finish as he lovingly pecks your lips.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your voice down? Shut up,” he says, ignoring your insistent whining, lavishing your face and neck in wet kisses. Any “loving” he was going to give vanished at your bratty behavior.

“Stop teasing, hyuck seriously. I think I'm going insane.”

You were on the verge of tears at this point; you needed him to give you some type of relief. That's exactly how he wanted you—desperate and needy—not like you already weren't, but he liked to push you to your limits.

“Lay down for me,” he says, releasing his grip on your hips and patting your thigh to signal you to get up. You swiftly move to lay on the bed, and you watch him as he pulls his shirt over his head and takes off his sweatpants, leaving him only in his underwear. He climbs the bed and helps you remove your jeans. As he's tugging the material down your thick thighs, you remove your shirt and bra. He settles between your legs, and you reflexively wrap your legs around his waist. He has to press his palm down against your lower stomach to stop you from grinding against him again.

"You promise to behave?" He prys your legs free from his waist, trapping them against your chest and restricting your movement.

You nod mindlessly, reaching out to grab him and trying to draw him into another kiss, but he pins your hands above your head, using his hips instead to further pin you down.

"Uh-uh princess, use your words," he adds coldly.

“Please hyuck, I promise I'll be good.”

“You going to be a good girl and keep that mouth shut?”

You were exhausted from having to use your brain to come up with a coherent response; you were at your limit. All you could think about was him filling you up, and every second he didn't, it felt like a year of your life span was shaved off. You did cry this time. You were so frustrated with him; he did this all the time. He never plays nice; he always makes you work for it.

"Oh you poor baby," he coos lovingly as he kisses your eyelids and wipes away your tears. "I'm sorry, but I have to hear you say it," he continues.

"I promise to be your good girl; I swear I won't make a sound, please," you sniffle, trying to hold back your tears.

“If I hear one sound, I'm stopping, and you can walk out of this room and finish yourself off, got it?”

You've learned to respond quickly when he asks you a question, so you nod your head with a "yes sir."

This makes Haechan smile wickedly. Who would have guessed that the same brat who walked into the room with him no less than an hour ago could be so obedient? He was definitely never letting you live this down when this was over. He finally decides to take pity on you, kisses down your body, and removes your panties. He threw your legs over his shoulders, and a quick kiss to your inner thigh was all the warning you got before he nuzzled his nose up against your clit as he licked into your entrance. He savored the taste with his tongue before licking up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. The sounds his mouth made as he devoured you were wet and noisy as he slurped away at your essence.

You were fighting for your life above him. Reaching for a pillow that was just almost out of reach, you used it to smother your sounds. A sharp slap on your outer thigh served as a warning to keep your voice down. It was the only warning you were going to get. Soon the pillow is long forgotten as you gasp for air. Your thighs began to shake as you choked on your moans. Your back arches, and you can feel your eyes begin to roll. You were going to come, and you would have welcomed it with open arms any other time, but you knew how loud you could get. He was not letting up, and you knew if you came like this, you wouldn't be able to hold back the scream that's been dying to echo against the walls.

You try your best to fight it off. You frantically push at his head, begging him with your eyes as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to bite back moans. He shakes his head no, but the movement simply adds to the pleasure, and you're about to lose it. You try to get away from his mouth by shifting up the bed, but his powerful arms wrap around your thighs and pull you back down onto his mouth.

"Hae-" His look silences you, and your mouth hangs wide in a silent cry as you spasm on his tongue. It was the most intense orgasm you'd ever felt. Once he helps you ride out the wave, he kisses your pussy one more time before pulling away. As soon as he does, you snap your legs shut, still reeling from the orgasm. His face was practically dripping as he stared you down, hungry.

"Better?" he asks, brushing the back of his palm across his face.

"Mhm,” you reply, causing him to raise a brow, "better,” you quickly follow, using your voice.

Your eyes travel down his body until they reach what you’ve been craving for the most. Haechan was harder than you thought could even be possible. His tip was a furious shade of crimson, gleaming in precum.

"One more baby," he strokes his length before hissing and gripping the base. "Just be my good girl one more time," he begs.

You almost feel bad. The whole time he was teasing you, he was also teasing himself. You're amazed he's maintained this level of self-control up to this point.

“I don't know if I can keep quiet if we continue,” you plead.

“Open your mouth” is all he says as he prys your legs open and settles between them.

You comply, and Haechan shoves your panties into your mouth. You try to object, but he covers your mouth with his palm for added security.

"My turn," he grins before bottoming out inside you. The first few strokes are so deep, you can practically feel him in your stomach. He's trying to keep control; he's trying to be gentle with you because he knows how sensitive you are, but he's slowly losing it. He's going to use you like a doll. His thrusts pick up pace, and all you can hear in the room is skin slapping against skin unforgivingly. The hand around your mouth clamps down harder as he buries his head into your neck.

“Im sorry... fuck” was all you got as he hiked your leg up higher on his waist, trying to hit deeper. His hot breath fanning across your neck and the soft staccato groans he lets out are the only indications that he is close. Your head is in the clouds, and you can't think straight. You barely register the fact that you came again until he bites at your neck to muffle his deep groan at the feeling of your walls tightening down on him. Next thing you know, he's snapped.

He quickly sits up, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he drives his hips down into you, practically fucking you into the mattress until his hips are stuttering. He pulls the panties from your mouth to kiss you in the hopes of drowning out his own sounds of pleasure. His kiss is messy. It's nothing but tongue and teeth as his thrusts grow slopy. He's practically whimpering into your mouth when he cums.He rides out his high before pulling away from your lips. All you can do is stare at each other as you catch your breath. There is a brief moment of silence before you both burst out laughing. He collapses next to you and pulls you close.

“You think they heard that?” he asks, panting.

"Oh, we definitely heard everything." A muffled voice can be heard through the door, and you assume it's Yunas.

You're too sleepy to feel embarrassed as your eyelids begin to droop.

"Don't worry, you two; we'll say you won as long as you don't try to kill each other again." Johnny's muffled voice can be heard next.

"I don't think she'll be able to do much for a while," Haechan muffles. Speaking to your sleeping form more than anyone else.

"I'll get the plan B girl. I gotchu," Yuna voice fades as she walks down the hallway.

She was definitely gonna grill you for the details. She always wanted a run-down play by play of everything that happened.

Soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in haechans warm embrace.

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Johnny would call his mission a success. You two stopped arguing for the most part, and the group was able to enjoy more peaceful outings without the two of you turning every conversation into a debate. Your friends were fond of your bickering, but at times it could get to be too much. But now that your relationship with Haechan has blossomed into a….situationship? They were running into another problem.

You two fuck like rabbits.

No matter where you were, you two were slipping off to do who knows what or being all touchy-feely with each other, and your friends didn't want to see or hear any of it. But because you two seemed happier, they learned to cope with it. Yuna bought new noise-canceling headphones to use whenever Haechan would spend the night at your dorm. Johnny upgraded the speakers in the house so that when he had a party and you two snuck away, the music could blast louder to drown out your noises. Mark downloaded more mobile games on his phones to ignore you two when you would get all lovey during movie nights.

Haechan still picked on you, but he saved it more for the bedroom, and you still tried to test his patience any chance you got. You didn't know what you two had, but you didn't mind enjoying it while it lasted or even furthering it. You learned a lot more about Haechan and discovered that you two had more in common than you believed. You also learned he could be a real sweetheart sometimes. Maybe your friends were right all along, and maybe Johnny isn't as crazy as you thought. Maybe you didn't have to be better than Haechan all along.

Rushed ending opps

#haechan #lee haechan #haechan smut #nct smut #nct dream #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #smut #right before i post a fic i get the worst case of anxiety it makes me wanna puke #like whats stopping me from deleting this rn 🤔#imma let yall have it tho 🤪

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roxineedstosleep · 11 months ago

Note

Could you do a snippet for yandere platonic Batfam where reader accidentally gets hurt and is able to hide it for a few days until someone (May be Dick?) finds it and asks / gets upset about it? Love your writing!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Hi there!!!

First of all: Thank you sweetie!

It's been a while since I've written, mostly because of the university, I'm about to graduate and I'm crazy because I'm approaching my final exams (I even have to defend my research work to be able to get my bachelor's degree)!

But, I got to thinking a bit about what you have written above… and even more so because I myself am a little bit crashed after my last film shoot for my final year of my degree. And can I just say that being in a bad way and having to hide it is terrible.

So… here goes!

(I'm sorry if I sound a bit comical in this writing, but I think the best way to get over something is to laugh at yourself a bit so you don't think about the pain too much; I hope you enjoy it anyway.)

Disclaimer: I don't know if you've noticed, but English is not my native/mother tongue. Occasionally, when I think too much, I write them in my language and then translate it in a trusted translator. So, if there's a grammatical problem or a strange term, it's the translator's fault.

Let's face it… having a large family is terribly exhausting.

It's never quiet enough, everyone is in everyone else's business, you can't leave your favorite mermelade in the fridge for less than a day. Someone is always occupying the bathroom or using your favorite shampoo or watching something on TV at too much volume and someone is probably occupying your bed at nap time.

Did I mention about meddling too much in other people's business? Yes? Well… triple it.

Having multiple siblings was new.

Having multiple siblings, a father and a butler/grandfather isn't exactly bread and butter either.

It wouldn't be so bad to belong to a large and numerous one if it was your blood family and you had lived with them all your life. I mean, sometimes blood is too thick and you have no choice but to learn to love them or just be nice to each other.

Like I said, it wouldn't be so bad if they were really your family.

But the Waynes were not your family. Not distant relatives or anything like that.

You were just living your life, as quietly as possible… and poof!

New room, new butler/grandfather, pets beyond belief, 4 new male siblings and a father with serious emotional constipation issues. And, to add more salt to your wound…. all have serious abandonment issues and death-related trauma.

After several escape attempts, sleep strikes, hunger strikes and any other kind of protest that an anarchist could be proud of… you realized that it was simply impossible to get out of this without risking the path of death.

Which, to top it all off, was also unreliable because apparently your older brother Jason had revived as well as another of your siblings. So no, dying was also not a viable option to which one could resort in the worst case scenario.

What to do?

Well, not much. Trying not to die of suffocation of affection or finding a way to have privacy while going to the bathroom just seemed to be the best survival tools you could resort to.

What does that entail?

It implies that Tim was going to give you hours and hours of lectures on his latest discovery of a case, even if you don't understand half the things he's told you or mentioned at all.

Richard and Damian trying to teach you new tricks almost every second, taking you to the Zoo or not leaving you alone to go to the bathroom.

That Jason, oh holy cow he is the only one more relaxed, takes you with him on his motorcycle to eat ice cream and to the public library. Without being able to scape, because it seems that you have a kind of GPS inserted in the bone marrow.

(Sometimes you don't know if it's true or not, but sometimes you also felt pain between your bones, almost during the cold seasons, and you didn't want to burst your poor little head thinking of different viable possibilities knowing them. No scars, no remembering anythins about any surgery).

Have a grandfather who will not hesitate to make you cookies, your favorite foods whenever you want … without leaving you aside at any time.

Plus a terribly quiet father, who if he can will carry you for as long as you spend time together, won't let you near the secret basement and enjoys being in the same room with you.

Do you see any privacy in this?

No, because even at the bathroom door would be the pets trying to get in and see you for themselves while you want to do your business.

The worst of that? Titus always judge you when you close the curtains.

As I mentioned and it was clear: Having a large family implies little privacy… Having a large, obsessive family means NO privacy.

So, knowing that you have over 50 nanochips tracking in all your clothes, two security monitors embedded - God knows how - in your body (monitors that only tell you if you are in designated safe place), 20 high definition surveillance cameras in every room and a Great Dane chasing you like a chick …. How the heck do you fall down the stairs and hit your pelvic bone without anyone noticing?

No kidding, how?

And if you had to blame someone for your fall… you'd totally blame Damian for it.

It's not that the kid pushed you down the stairs, but over time he had tamed himself into various things and relaxed into looking his age. You know!!! He started acting like a normal teenager!

What do Damian's kids do at his age? Well, they leave things lying around and have messing around them when they can, of course they do!

You just wanted some yogurt with orange marmalade. Maybe some oatmeal cookies. Alfred had left it for you in the fridge when he noticed you'd been watching video tutorials on homemade marmalade for hours. Who were you to deny such a gesture of generosity?

I mean, Alfred was the one who allowed you to hide in the attic for hours on end so you could have some time to yourself.

And how did it end? You, slipping down the main stairs of the old Wayne mansion, down a nicely polished wooden staircase, rolling all the way down (which is no small flight of stairs, it should be noted) to the bottom of the first floor.

Now, lying on the ground is not so bad in itself. What is bad is not being able to feel your legs and still not being able to understand how you manage to tidy up your neural wiring so that your legs can still move on their own and go to the kitchen to rescue all the delicacies Alfred left you in time.

And it's a good thing you managed to do it… because within seconds Bart had rushed in to ransack the fridge and the fruit basket.

But that's not the point.

The important thing is that this time you managed, I insist a little on the feat of action, to climb up to your room and not notice how you couldn't really feel your legs.

You ate, you lay down… and to your bad or good luck, you couldn't get up …. and without anyone noticing there was an emergency and everyone went out to sort it out.

Weak limbs, limited movement and you don't want to mention the embarrassing actions you did in order to go to the toilet.

It's not like you hid it either, I mean, there was no one who could even notice because they weren't entirely available to watch you. Nor is it that you would have run away, otherwise they would have been at your side in less than a second.

The detail, as they insist, is that you had probably bruised your back badly and your body was now taxing you extra for your food craving.

I insist, you did not hide anything.

But still, when you're found completely itchy on the floor, ridiculously trying to run away in the direction of the bathroom… that's when everyone really goes crazy.

First, having to carry you and not dying of embarrassment when you notice that Bruce definitely doesn't give a damn about having to carry you to the bathroom and do almost everything for you.

Or having Dick and Jason carry you and fit you into some kind of weird medical scanner they have in the cave.

Or that Tim keeps track of your periods, types of meds you take and, for fuck's sake, knows how the fuck to inject something into your spine.

Or that Damian had the gall to look a little embarrassed when he heard that a pair of boxers lying outside the laundry basket was to blame for all this.

NO matter.

At the end of the day they heal you, pamper you, leave you alone when you need to take a nap and figure out a way to fix it without looking like complete maniacs who built some kind of internal plumbing that sucks up the dirty laundry and throws it straight into the washing machine.

Like the time they didn't look like maniacs by sanding all the edges of the tables and nightstands.

Or the time they bought a whole brand of sanitary towels when they realised that not all women use tampons.

Don't worry, they're looking out for you… even if they look like deranged Arkhan freaks in the process.

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arceus-insanity · 2 months ago

Text

Endeavor Deserves No Sympathy!

I don't understand how anyone can think Endeavor was ever a good dad. It also always comes off as incredibly victim blamie, especially towards Touya, and often Shoto too.

He literally only got married and had kids to use them. He never gave a shit about their well being, never even thought about it until he had the one thing he cared about and was still miserable. I've already gone over the math proving he gave up on achieving his dream himself at 21 at the absolute latest. (https://www.tumblr.com/arceus-insanity/763259515356512256/i-liked-endeavors-character-when-he-was?source=share)

And basic math will once again be used to prove just how little this waste of flesh actually tries.

This time the focus is on how quickly he abandoned Touya and immediately went to emotional abuse via neglect & literally replacing him, and once again risking that more children be born with self-destructive quirks.

For context we only see Endeavor doing anything with his kids that's not him literally walking through and ignoring them in two circumstances. Once when Fuyumi's a newborn and Touya is attempting to crawl (not walk) over to her. And training. Those are the only times he tries to spend with any of them, even after he starts his 'atonement'

Now comparing Touya in the scene of them training and himself as a toddler and all the child imagery this series loves to use instead of actually saving imperfect victims, Touya is at least 3 (probably closer to 4) when he's taken to the doctor and they are informed of his condition

Natsuo is 4 and a half years younger than him.

We know for a fact Natsuo (& Shoto) was conceived after they got the news, not willingly either. Pregnancy takes 40 weeks average, so Touya would still be 3 when Natsuo was conceived. So once again it took this 'man' less than a year to give up and have another child he hoped to use as a tool, and was explicitly making to hurt his existing son. And as I have said plenty of times before, risking that the new kids could be born with the same disorder, I hate how convenient it is that Shoto gets near zero negative quirk side effects.

Want to know what we never see, Endeavor doing something else with Touya and Touya demanding training, it's always him walking past/ away from Touya. Considering all of the shit they've pulled to soften Endeavor's abuse both in the manga and even more so in the anime, they wouldn't skip something like this. It's not hard to tell that Touya's 'obsession with training' is really about spending time with his dad, you know like a human child that literally needs love, proven by numerous studies and research in the real world.

He throws all parenting responsibilities onto Rei, adds more children to that load, and when Touya suffers for it (like everyone else) he does nothing, doesn't even hire a nanny

Another are you kidding me take I've seen is that somehow Touya's quirk issues are worse than Midoriya's and Yuga's. Touya managed to train his quirk to produce blue fire at 13 with zero equipment and less than no help, and only lost control of it, because of the mental abuse Endeavor had inflicted on him leading him to a mental breakdown. And/ or the theory I've only seen once of AFO using his ability to force quirk activation (seen with a passed out chapter 90 during his first confrontation with All Might)

Midoriya was breaking his bones all the way into the Shie Hassaikai arc and was only able to fight because Eri and was breaking support equipment in the following arc as well. Yuga had a support belt all the way back in the entrance exam and was still struggling with that.

Speaking of Yuga let's compare parental effort here, because as much as it backfired Yuga's parents tried a whole lot more. For starters they nearly bankrupted themselves to get him a quirk, so he could feel equal. All For One is a mythic man prior to his arrest, and those who knew of him were shown to be serious long-term villain groups, so they had gone to quite a bit of effort to find that he existed to begin with. They also got him support gear (the navel belt thing) as a kid to help him with said quirk, he literally had it in the entrance exam. Endeavor never looked into that, Endeavor is not only rich too but he's a top hero he would have direct access to support equipment companies that would jump at the opportunity and it never even occurred to him.

Endeavor's name is an irony as endeavour means to try hard to do or achieve something. He never tries hard he gives up incredibly quickly the second there's any road block, but instead of moving on he makes everyone suffer for it. He's a toxic pageant mom who'd rather force their child into a toxic world and a role they don't want than work on himself

And what finally makes him change? Getting exactly what he wanted and still being miserable, and he still expects through his actions his family to cater to him.

Not his son getting a major disability due to his actions, no, he decided to double down, mentally abusing and neglecting the son he supposedly loves, raping his wife who didn't want more kids or participate in this abuse, and again risking that Natsuo & later Shoto might have that same issue. Not when his wife breaks down and permanently scars his precious masterpiece, who proceeds to rightfully blame him, and he just thinks of it as a tantrum despite it lasting a fucking decade. Not when his eldest literally dies as the result of his selfishness. Not literally during any part of this entire process!

Dabi is 23 when Endeavor finally starts to 'try' to be better, that means that for at least 24 years he has only been caring about his fucking precious number one spot in a popularity contest that he couldn't even bother to try to be likeable for, this wasn't one bad decision, this was him constantly choosing to be so insanely selfish that he found ways that shouldn't even be possible for over two decades. And it was all him.

#bnha #bnha critical #mha #mha critical #bnha meta #my hero academia #mha meta #anti endeavor #boku no hero academia #anti enji todoroki #rei todoroki deserves better #dabi deserves better #shoto todoroki deserves better #fuyumi todoroki decerves better #natsuo todoroki deserves better

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grapejuicenharry · 2 months ago

Text

Angel (part 4)

Y/N fails her exam and has a slight miscommunication with Harry, but he takes care of her. (4k words)

warnings: angst, smut, 18+, squirting (sorry i got carried away), fingering.

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Y/N woke up with a sour feeling in her stomach. She'd been on edge since the weekend, dreading today because her psychology exam results were coming out, and she knew she hadn't done well.

She remembered how exam week had lined up with her period, the dull ache in her head making it nearly impossible to focus or prepare like she wanted.

Harry had been there atterward, pulling her close, covering her in kisses, and telling her how proud he was and how she'd done her best. In those moments, she'd felt a bit lighter, as if the weight had lifted. But now, as she thought about the results again, that same heavy pit began to settle in her stomach.

Y/N's day was off to a terrible start.

Nothing had gone right since morning.

She'd nearly slipped in the bathroom while brushing her teeth, burned her breakfast because she was so lost in anxious thoughts, and then, on the way to university, a creepy guy wouldn't stop staring at her. All she wanted was to hide away in Harry's room, wrapped up in his arms, safe on the couch.

She wished she could call Harry and ask him to be with her, but she knew he was busy preparing for his own exams. He had a calculus test in a few days and was buried in studying. She was thankful she hadn't chosen calculus this semester—she'd probably flunk it for sure. But Harry was such a nerd, so smart and hardworking, she knew he'd get through it easily. The image of Harry buried in his book, glasses perched on his nose, brought a smile to her face. He was just too cute.

Y/N sits in the library, her laptop open in front of her. She nervously chews her nails, contemplating her recent life decisions. Closing her eyes, she whispers, “It’s okay,” and clicks to view her grade, silently praying for a passing mark.

She failed.

A big, fat D stares back at her from the screen. Her eyes go glossy as she struggles to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over. Embarrassed, she glances around, hoping no one saw her screen. The thought of telling Harry makes her stomach twist—Harry, who always believed in her, his favorite girl. Part of her wants to call him, to feel his comforting embrace, to hear him tell her it will be okay. But another part worries that he might be disappointed, maybe even embarrassed. Harry always calls her smart and brilliant, but how would he react to this? Would he laugh? Would he be ashamed?

No, she tells herself, he would never do that. He loves her; he always takes care of her. Her grade wouldn’t matter to him—she can always retake the test, after all. Taking a deep breath, she decides. She should definitely call Harry.

Harry doesn’t pick up. Y/N tries calling him three times, but each call goes unanswered. She texts him, but the messages remain unseen. Frustration and exhaustion settle in, and she decides she can’t stay at the university any longer. Packing her laptop, pouch, and books into her bag, her stomach growls, reminding her that she skipped breakfast after burning it earlier. She decides to stop by the campus café on her way home.

But as she approaches the café, she sees him—Harry. Her Harry, leaning against the wall, deep in conversation with Emma. The same Emma who never missed an opportunity to get close to him. And worst of all, they’re laughing together. Harry says something that makes Emma throw her head back in laughter, standing far too close to him. Y/N stares from a distance, her eyes stinging with unshed tears and a headache starting to build.

Harry and Y/N have been dating for a while now—ten months, and she trusts him completely. She knows how much he loves her and that he’d never cheat. But her chest aches at the thought that he might’ve ignored her calls just because he was busy with Emma. Y/N feels so alone, so vulnerable with everything that’s gone wrong today.

When Emma places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, Y/N feels a spark of anger she rarely experiences. She’s not usually the jealous type, but today has been a disaster, and her emotions are all over the place. All she wanted was to be with her boyfriend, for him to comfort her, but he's... occupied.

Of course Harry would enjoy Emma's company, she thinks bitterly. Emma, who's so good in all her classes, probably never fails at anything. She's beautiful, with her blonde hair, perfect white teeth, and tall, slender frame that seems to match Harry's so well. Unlike YN, who feels foolish, even small, in comparison. She's never felt this insecure, this low, and right now, she just feels... dumb.

Blinking away her tears as discreetly as possible, Y/N turns and walks back to her apartment, her appetite gone.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry was confused. He was finally done with his studies for the day and wrapped up to go home. He was so excited because he can finally spend the night with Y/N, whom he hadn't seen for two days. He had been so busy with his exams that they did not get time to meet each other. He missed her terribly, and now he just wanted to go to her apartment, cuddle with her, and just be in each other’s presence. She’d been the first thing on his mind all day—the person he’d wanted to see as soon as he got a break from studying.

He fumbled with his keys as he opened the apartment door, unlocking his phone to make a call, but his eyes widened when he saw that Y/N had called him three times in the afternoon. “Shit,” he whispered, mentally cursing himself for silencing his phone. He dialed her number back, but the calls went unanswered. He tried texting her, but there was no reply.

Sighing, he slouched on the couch. His muscles were sore and achy because of sitting in front of his laptop all day. That made him think of Y/N’s touch—the way her hands would move over his shoulders, soothing every ache, her voice soft and calming. The thought only made him miss her more. His hair was all messed up and tousled, eyes red and sunken behind his glasses, and a face with exhaustion written all over.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to have a proper meal all day. He was so buried in his books that he forgot to eat. But that did not matter. Now he just wanted to be with her, to talk with her, to breather her, and to share a meal with her.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Y/N was a mess. She had been crying for the past two hours and couldn't understand why her tears wouldn't stop. Her face was all blotchy and red. Her eyes swollen with tears, and she declined Harry’s call yet again. He’d been calling nonstop and even texted, asking if he could come over. But she didn’t want him to see her like this—all blotchy with snot covering her face. Y/N knew she was being immature, but her feelings were hurt, and she just wanted to let out everything that had been bottled up since the morning.

Cuddled on her couch with a blanket wrapped around her as she stares at his contact yet again. She couldn’t help it. Finally, she texted him not to come over, saying she was busy. Harry would just assume she is busy with her assignments. She tried to come up with some other excuse, but she knows if she had told him that she was not well, he would rush over to see her.

God, Y/N couldn’t help but feel pathetic.

She knew she should just call him and, for the truth, talk to him and clear the air, but right now she just wanted to be alone... with no one around but her broken heart.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

Harry visits Y/N the next morning, His night went by tossing and turning, unable to get a wink of sleep, so upset after her text message. There was a sour feeling in his chest, one where he couldn't quite put a finger on. He knew Y/N well, and she never acted like this. Even when she was in an unpleasent mood, she never refused to hang out. This was the first time she had ever done something like this, and he couldn’t help but worry. Weird thoughts started creeping up his mind. But he pushed them aside and made his way over to Y/N’s apartment. He wanted to know what’s wrong and if she is okay.

Harry rang the bell twice, but there was no response. Concern tugged at him, so he tried opening the door, and thankfully it was unlocked. Slipping inside, he made his way through the quiet apartment towards her bedroom. When he reached her room, he paused in the doorway, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of her sleeping peacefully. A frown took over his face when he looked closely at her puffy eyes and red cheeks. Wondering if Y/N had been crying. He couldn’t help but advance his steps towards her bed and carefully sat beside her. His fingers traced her features: the stray strand of hair, the fallen strand of her delicate nose, and her pouty lips. She looked like an angel, his beautiful angel.

Y/N stirred in her sleep, opening her eyes, which was somewhat an effort because of how late she had been to bed after exhausting herself. Blinking up in surprise, she sees Harry,

Harry, who was sitting beside her and his fingers playing with a strand of her hair.

“Harry… What are you doing here?” Her voice barely above a whisper. Y/N sits up, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, pulling her blanket closer around her. Seeing his face clearly after two whole days, worry written all over.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you." He said softly, “You wouldn’t answer my calls last night. And I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He murmurs, but his face fell when she looked away quickly, avoiding his eyes.

“I am fine,” she mutters sharply, looking down at her lap. Harry frowns at her response.

“You don’t look fine, love. What’s going on? Did I do something?”

She takes a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears that are threatening to pour any second. She hated herself for not being able to control her emotions during such times. She looks down at her lap, trying her hardest to avoid his gaze.

“You didn’t answer my calls either, Harry. I needed you. Yesterday was... hard for me. And you..” She pauses, taking a breath. “You were with Emma.”

Harry’s brows knitted in confusion. Then realization dawned on him. His expression softened, and he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Y/N, no. My phone was on silent because I was studying, and I didn’t see your calls until later. I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. And Emma..” Harry shakes his head and takes a deep breath before saying, “Baby, she is dating Alex. She just wanted to know, ask me a few things to plan his birthday party, since I��m his close friend.”

"Oh,” whispers Y/N, more to herself as realization dawned upon her. Her fingers nervously pick at her cuticles. She’d been so stupid, so dumb, to jump to conclusions.

“You’re not stupid.” Harry says softly, as if he can read her thoughts. He knows her tendency to blame herself for even the smallest things.

“I just.. I failed my psychology exam, Harry.” She admits, her voice breaking as she sniffles. “I felt like everything was falling apart, and you weren’t there. I didn’t know what to think.” Her cheeks were red with tears.

Without hesitation, Harry pulls her into his arms, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. She buries her face in his neck. His clean, masculine scent gives her comfort as she clings to him and straddles his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly.

“I am sorry, Y/N." He murmurs, “I should’ve been there for you, but failing that exam doesn’t change anything about how smart you are. You’re going to get through this. And I’m going to help you however I can. I’m here, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Hearing him say these words instantly brings relief to her, her mind instantly relaxing, easing some tension from her body. The weight of failure soon dissipates. She clings to him tightly. How could she ever think Harry would be ashamed or embarrassed of her?

He is right—she will get through this; failing an exam doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. It was just a stupid test.

After a while, she pulls back, feeling much better. “I just felt so alone. I didn’t mean to doubt you.”

Harry gently lifts her chin and presses a soft kiss on her forehead. “And I'm sorry for making you feel like you couldn't reach me. I love you, Y/N. The last thing I want is for you to go through something like that by yourself.”

Her lips curl into a smile. Her heart is still racing at the sound of his ‘I love you’, even though he says it to her so often. “I'm sorry too... for jumping to conclusions.” She whispers back.

Harry smiles, his thumb brushing away a tear. “C’mon, no more tears, okay? Let’s get cleaned up, and we’ll have breakfast together.” He suddenly stands up, with Y/N in his arms, making their way to the washroom. Y/N laughs at his antics.

He sets her down on the counter, handing her toothbrush with toothpaste already on it. She takes it and starts brushing her teeth, keeping him caged between her legs.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

After she was done brushing her teeth, they peeled off each other’s clothes while stumbling into the shower eager. The hot water cascaded over them. Harry applied shampoo to Y/N’s hair, his fingers massaging her scalp gently. She tipped her head back in relaxation, letting her eyes flutter shut, enjoying the sensation. His touch felt like heaven. He felt like home; it all felt so natural. She loved these domestic moments—showering together, cooking for each other, sleeping in each other’s arms—like they were meant to be.

As Harry rinsed the shampoo from her hair, his hand drifted to her shoulders, rubbing soothing patterns into her tight muscles. He was tracing every curve of her neck. Y/N shivered under his touch. Harry hated seeing his baby stressed, exhausted, and drained. He wished he could take all her worries away.

His hand then moved to her front, cupping her breast in his soapy palm, squeezing and pinching her nipples. Y/N let out a soft gasp, resting her head on his shoulder now, her eyes fluttering shut. How had a sweet, comforting moment turned into something heated? but she didn’t mind. Not when it had been so long since they’d touched each other like this. They hadn’t had the chance to initiate anything with each other in a while because of their busy schedules. So naturally, Y/N was very aroused by his simple touch.

Harry began planting slow, deliberate kisses along her bare, wet shoulder while his fingers continued to caress her breasts. He could feel the tension in her body and how she was clinging to him like he was her lifeline. “Feels good, yeah?” he murmured huskily, his voice thick with desire. She nodded feverishly, unable to form any words.

As Harry stood behind her, she could feel him, his hard length pressed against the curve of her ass. The feeling sent a thrill through her. Unable to resist, she pushed back, grinding against him slowly, teasingly. Harry’s breath hitched. She felt a sharp inhale against her ear.

A smirk tugged at her lips; she knew what she was doing. But she did not expect a sharp sting of his palm on her ass. The slap was lightly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. She gasped at the contact.

"Behave,” he murmured in her ear, his voice low with arousal, nipping at her ear lightly. Her pussyclenching around nothing, she could barely hold back any longer. She was so wet, drenched with desire, her wetness coating her thighs. She wanted him to touch her pussy, make her cum—

In the next moment, Harry turned her around and pressed her against the wall. She gasped at the cool contact with the tiles. He captured her mouth with a heated kiss, sucking her bottom lip. His lips moving hungrily against hers. Her mind was spinning. It took her a few moments to process. Her body arching as she let out a soft, needy moan.

Harry groaned in response. The kiss was messy and passionate, as if they were trying to make up for the lost time. Harry began trailing kisses down her throat and sucking a sensitive spot below her ear. He needed her to know this—how much he’d miss her. He dipped his head and took a nipple in his mouth. Y/N gasped as the heat of his mouth came into contact with her cold nipple; he started sucking gently while his other hand played with her other breast.

“Harry, it feels so good,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath. Her eyes closed, her hand tugging at Harry’s hair.

Harry looked up at her, his gaze dark with desire and lust. Seeing her so needy, so desperate for him, he loved her like this. He wanted to take care of her with pleasure and satisfy her needs. Without any worry, Harry dropped down to his knees. He hooked one of her legs onto his shoulder, his fingers slipping between her legs and playing with her wet slit. He looked up, meeting her eyes as he brushed his thumb on her clit.

“Fuck, you’re dripping, baby,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with need.

Y/N’s breath hitched, fingers tightening in his hair, as in the next moment he dipped his head and licked a long path from her opening to her clit. “A-aah, yes,” Y/N breathed out. Her moans became more loud as he began sucking her clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. His both hands gripping her waist tightly, He smirked at her response. Y/N tightened her grip on his hair and began grinding against his face. Harry groaned in response, the vibrations making her legs shake.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his lips glistening and his eyes dark with lust as he muttered, “I need to have this sweet pussy for breakfast every day." With a smirk, he dove back in, devouring her like she was his last meal.

The filthy, dirty words made her feel gooey inside, a warmth spreading from her chest to her core. She’d never understand where Harry got his filthy mouth from, but it always stirred something deep within her, making her brain all mushy and puddled, like she could barely think straight. It made her want to do everything that he said, every sinful thing he whispers in her ear, with that husky and deep voice of his.

Finally, the deep bubble of pleasure in her belly burst. Her vision hazy, her head tipped back as the loud moan escaped her lips. Just at the right moment, Harry thrust two fingers inside, curling them up. It sent her over the edge. Her back arched as she moaned breathlessly. Harry groaned into her as he felt her walls clenched around his fingers. Y/N squirted, her pussy fluttering, as she tried catching her breath. Harry, whose face was now wet with her release, was lapping up every drop of her arousal like a starved man.

Y/N never thought she could squirt; never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined Harry making her squirt, but it felt so euphoric. She was so sensitive, shivering at every flick of his tongue. When she managed to look down, her breath hitched. Harry was still on his knees, his face wet, eyes closed, lost in devouring her. But what caught her eye was the way his own cum dripped down his abs—the evidence of his own release. He had cum without even being touched, just by eating her out. The sight made her clench around nothing.

Harry looked up at her, following her gaze. It took a second to realize what she was staring at. He glanced down at his abs; his face flushed an even deeper shade of red in embarrassment.

Y/N quickly pulled Harry on his feet, his cheeks red, lips glistening with her arousal, and eyes dark and hypnotizing. Y/N leaned forward and captured his mouth with hers. Pouring every emotion she couldn’t quite put into the words. She could taste herself on his lips. They both pulled away, resting their foreheads together, trying to catch their breath.

Harry laughed breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess, I got a bit carried away, huh?”

Y/N’s gaze softened as a smile curled on her lips. “Seems like you had a good time down there.” She teased, her fingers tracing circles on his abs.

Harry chuckles as he pecks her nose. “You have no idea.” He admits.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

After they both actually showered and cleaned each other up, tired and exhausted. The hot water relaxing them, Y/N leaned on her toes and began applying shampoo to his head. She loved that he smelled like berries now. Harry wrapped her in a towel and then dressed her in his shirt—the one he’d wore that morning. It reached her thighs, and it smelled like him. It felt like home.

While he himself walked around shirtless, just in his gray trousers that slung low around his hips. Not that Y/N minded; she loved the view.

Harry made his way to the kitchen, quickly preparing a breakfast for her. He scrambled some eggs and poured a fresh glass of orange juice. They both had their meal while being in each other’s arms, tugging at the corner of the couch. His arms wrapped around her tightly.

This morning felt like heaven. Y/N decided she wanted every morning to start like this, filled with sweet words, kisses, and gentle touches, without the crying part, of course.

She felt Harry behind her, bringing her back to reality. “I’m going to tutor you for your psychology rest, baby. We’ll go over everything, and you’re going to do great; I just know it,”

He murmurs, reassuring while pressing a chaste kiss on her cheeks as she felt all the worry leaving her body. His confidence in her made all the worry drain from her body. She knew she would pass the next exam, with him being on her side.

#harry styles imagine #harry fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry smut #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles book #harry styles drabble #angel #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #i hope you like it <3 #<333 #my au

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maretinelli · 5 months ago

Text

A SURPRISE OF LOVE

Daryl Dixon X fem!reader

Summary: Where Daryl's wife goes on a patrol and arrives all injured, but during the exams Daryl discovers another member.

Words: 1.7K+

Warnings: Blood, bruises, TWD characters, pregnancy, Daryl daddy, and happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes that may be made. Second, I love Daryl and I wanted him to be the father of my children. That's it!!

MASTERLIST

Things weren't going well in Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop. With the arrival of the Whisperers, it seemed like everything had turned upside down again.

But giving up wasn't something they really wanted to do. They would fight as many times as it took to keep everyone they loved safe.

"I'll go with you," Daryl says, approaching his wife near the Hilltop gates.

Y/n turns around quickly at the man's voice.

"No, you don't need to. I'm just going to take a look at the neighborhood I saw nearby, there might be some supplies to share with Alexandria and Reino." S/n says without worries and smiles.

"I'll go with you," Daryl says again as he asks someone to reach for his bow.

Y/n turns to her husband and holds back a smile.

"Hey, I'll be fine out there by myself. If that's what you're worried about. We've been through so much, one round isn't going to hurt anyone."

•

Minutes, hours passed. And still no sign of S/n arriving at the community again.

Daryl knew where this place she was going to was, they found out together.

"Did you see if S/n arrived? She left a few hours ago and hasn't shown any signs of life until now" Daryl asks Carol, who was on patrol at that time.

"No. Since I've been here, no one has come or gone." Carol says. "Maybe Connie or Rosita could have seen her. Has it been long since she left?"

"About 4 hours. And the place she said is close, there's no reason for it taking so long" Daryl says a little harshly, but inside he was eating himself up with fear of losing his wife.

"Oh... Do you want me to go ask Connie if she saw S/n?"

"No, no. I'll go look for her." Daryl leaves.

from where he was and goes looking for a dog and equipment to leave the community.

Carol starts to worry too. Y/n had been with them since the quarry, the girl who had now become a woman was a great friend, partner and companion of Carol. If she had to say it, Carol would say that Y/n was her best friend.

Daryl walks to the armory to gear up, while Carol returns to her guard post.

The sun was almost setting, but the heat it gave off was almost hellish. Carol wiped the sweat from her forehead when she heard the other guards shout that someone was approaching.

"Open up!! Open up, it's Y/N!!" Carol screams.

When they opened the gates, Carol came across a woman covered in blood. Her hair was half out of her ponytail, her boots were untied, and there was blood all over her body.

"Y/n!!" Carol throws what she has in her hands and runs to the woman. "Oh my God..."

That blood wasn't zombie's, it was all hers.

There was a deep cut on the right side of the woman's stomach. A lot of blood was gushing out.

"Carol..." Y/n said softly, as her legs felt weak.

The blonde-haired woman holds S/n so she doesn't fall to the ground.

"Were you bitten? Y/N, were you bitten?" Carol asks in desperation.

Y/n tries to speak but she feels very weak due to the blood loss. She just shakes her head negatively.

Which made Carol's heart calm down a little.

"I...I..." Y/n tries to say something, but everything around her started to turn black and blurry. "Carol...my...I'm pregnant...five weeks" she says in a whisper before fainting in Carol's arms.

Carol is in ecstasy for a few seconds, until Daryl's voice snaps her out of her trance.

"S/NNN!!"

•

3 days later...

After Daryl got to where Y/n and Carol were, they quickly took her so Enid could evaluate her and give a diagnosis as quickly as possible.

At the moment, S/n was lying on a bed in the makeshift infirmary, which was now run by Enid.

Little by little, the Dixon Woman slowly opened her eyes, getting used to the sunlight after a few days of sleeping.

"Good morning, flower of the day" She hears Enid's voice beside her.

Y/n still tries to adjust her eyes to the brightness.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Daryl asked me to open the curtains all the way. He told me you love waking up to sunlight, I thought it would help." Enid says smiling, as she walks over to the window to close it.

Y/n smiles as she imagines Daryl saying that.

"Good morning," S/n says smiling, trying to sit up in bed. But she winces in pain. "Aw, aw..."

"Hey, hey. I'll help you," Enid says, approaching the woman to help her get ready on the bed. "I put some stitches in your belly. Can you tell me what happened? So I can put it in the medical record."

Y/n grimaces in pain, but nods.

"I was attacked by a horde of zombies. I had to jump over a wall to save myself, but there was some barbed wire. I kind of got tangled up..." She says with a half smile.

"Oh yeah, it kind of got tangled up" Enid smiles at Y/n, as she turns to get some more medicine for Y/n. "Well, let me give you a summary of what I did here for you in those days that you slept."

"How many days was I out?"

"Three days"

"Wow..."

"Yes... Well, after Carol and her husband brought you here, I stopped the wound, gave you some medicine to ease the pain, put in some stitches, and went to check on the baby. Carol said that you..."

"Oh shit..." S/n leans back and puts her hand on her head, tears starting to fall.

"Oh no, you didn't know? I'm sorry, I thought..."

"No, no...I knew...I know about the baby. It's been a while now." S/n looks at Enid with tears in her eyes.

"Congratulations" Enid says happily.

Y/n starts to cry softly, while looking at Enid.

"Oh no...I take back the congratulations?" Enid didn't know what to do.

"No, no," Y/n laughed through her tears. "I'm glad I did. But I haven't told Daryl yet... damn, Daryl... Does he know?"

"I told you...I didn't know you hadn't told him, if I had known I would have left it alone" Enid starts talking quickly.

"It's okay, Enid. It's okay..." Y/n agrees with a smile. "It's just that he and I have only talked about it two or three times. He must be in shock, that's all..."

"Look...if that was your concern. Whenever he comes, he asks about the baby first, how the vital signs are and everything" Enid says with love in her eyes.

Y/n chokes back a little more tears, just imagining her tough husband asking about her little baby. She smiles.

"Serious?"

"Yes. For those three days he slept next to you, and in the middle of the night when I came to give him his intravenous medication, I saw him looking at the ultrasound photo. Maybe he's not that shocked after all." She smiles at Y/n.

Y/n smiles too.

Seconds later, they heard the infirmary door open. It was the archer entering.

Seeing Y/n awake, a breath of relief was released from Daryl's lungs, and a few tears could be gathering in his eyes.

"He came back later, you must be doing some tests," he says awkwardly. Y/n holds back a smile.

"Oh, no, no. We were just shooting the breeze. I have to go out anyway," Enid says, looking between Daryl and Y/N. "I'll be back later to see you guys." Enid looks at Y/N, and she nods.

As they pass Daryl, Enid gives him a friendly smile and closes the infirmary door, so they have more privacy.

Daryl approaches Y/n, who begins to shed some silent tears.

"I thought I was going to lose you"

You

You...

For the first time, Y/n heard Daryl talk about his baby.

That was the end, Y/n started to shed tears from her eyes and sob. Covering her eyes with her hands, Daryl approaches her wife and wraps her in a hug. Shedding a few tears as well.

"It's okay...it's okay," Daryl says quietly.

"No. I'm sorry, Daryl...I'm sorry." Y/n's voice was muffled due to her crying and her hands on her face.

"Hey, hey. Why the apologies?" He stands up, holding his wife's hands affectionately, so she can look at him.

"The baby. I knew about the baby for about 3 weeks and I didn't tell you. I know we didn't talk about it much, and I was scared."

"Afraid of what, doll?" Daryl says worriedly.

"That's nonsense to say." Y/n shakes her head. "But I was afraid you wouldn't want him." She looks at Daryl. He can feel his heart break.

"Honey, I would never do that. We may have talked about it once or twice, but never. NEVER. I would let you or the baby go through terrible things. I want him, I really want that peanut" he says all cute at the end, which made Y/n smile at the part where he gave the baby a nickname already. "I may have some fears about being a father, but that's not why I'm going to reject him. I'll do my best, and I know you will too" he hugs Y/n again.

"You're making me cry again," she said smiling as she snuggled closer to her husband.

"Just promise me one thing. You'll never go out alone again."

Y/n nods.

"I don't want to lose you. Or the baby. Please."

"Okay," Y/n sniffs. "But look, I got supplies for the communities," she pulls out of the hug a little and smiles.

"Shut up, woman. You almost died," Daryl says with his somewhat harsh affection, making Y/n smile.

"Okay. I'll stop messing around with this." She says, getting ready in bed.

Silence reigns between the two, a comfortable silence between them. While Daryl held his wife's hand and caressed it.

"I have something to show you"

"But already? Our baby hasn't even been born and you're already like this?" S/n teases, smiling sideways.

Daryl just snorts and rolls his eyes.

"You are impossible"

"Yeah. I am." S/n says laughing, but stops when she feels a pain. "Don't make me laugh."

Daryl smiles and then reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper.

"Here, Enid gave this to me after she assessed the baby. I knew about him right then." Daryl hands over a picture of their ultrasound.

"Look there," S/n said, wiping away some tears of emotion. "Our baby."

"Peanut"

"Oh sure, peanut." She looks at the picture a little longer, before turning to her husband. "Sorry again for not telling you about the peanut sooner."

"It's okay now. We'll be okay, the three of us."

"I heard I'm going to be an aunt?" Carol walks into the infirmary, making Y/n and Daryl smile.

"Yes!!" Y/n says excitedly.

Author: I love reading Daryl a father of babies🤯😫

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #lovers #marriage #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead #babies #baby #carol peletier

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noiriarti · 4 months ago

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The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 6

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: a lot of jerking off WC: 8.4k AN: thank you all for your patience!! i started grad school so i got a bit busy, but now i will update about once a week! thank you all for the love :) also i am so sorry about all the angst

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, [Ch. 6], Ch. 7, Ch. 8

Chapter 6: Tearing

The afternoon sun filtered through his window shade and cast his room in its warm glow, but Anakin was too busy with his notes on his desk to notice. He needed something to do with his hands, just to keep himself focused, to keep his thoughts from wandering to you. To answer a practice problem, he was trying to find a specific case of heat diffusion the class had discussed--somewhere in October, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure. His desk was already messy before he began studying, but he was making it even worse with a paper thrown here, a staple there.

His eyes scanned the paper this way and that, trying to absorb any iota of information, but the words were slippery, wily things that wriggled out of his grasp. In the end, it turned out he had flipped past the page several times without seeing what he needed, and he finally found it on his fifth pass. Subconsciously, he dug his nails into his palms in frustration. Why couldn't he work? Why were you doing this to him?

His phone chimed, a text from his mom. Hey, how are finals? Doing okay?

For a few days, he'd been ducking questions about whether he was sleeping or eating enough, because he knew she'd be disappointed with his answers. He was running out of ways to change the subject in phone calls, and he knew she was catching on. Anakin decided he should probably respond.

yeah, really stressed about one of them, rest are fine. thesis going ok.

A second later, his phone lit up again.

Good luck. I'm so proud of you, Anakin, no matter what. As soon as he read it, he dropped his head into his hands. His forehead was clammy under his fingers. Of course she was proud of him unconditionally. He knew that. But he knew that he would be even prouder if he won. If he got a 4.0 this semester. Once, after he said something like that to Ahsoka, she looked at him with that knowing expression only she could produce, and asked him if his mom had ever said anything like that. Technically, no, he conceded, but he couldn't let her down.

He just felt so stupid right now, looking at the pages blanketing his desk. He'd been sitting over them for too long, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and stretch or take a break. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, really, let alone focus. So he was trapped. All he could do was just sit there, drink his Red Bull, and kind of review until he could destroy this exam next week.

Anakin decided to try another practice problem. Maybe that would make it click.

The surface tension of liquid argon is given by--

His phone buzzed against the desk. Putting it on loud was a bad idea, and he knew it. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. It was probably his mom, saying something else. Or, he hoped as his heart jumped, maybe you were coming from the lab early and wanted to meet and study. Or hook up. Or just talk. Whatever, as long as it didn't involve his textbook. His phone buzzed again. And again.

He gave in and opened it. It was you, he found, and he grinned like a lunatic, but caught himself. Then again, he was alone, so it didn't matter, really.

But then he read your texts.

Where are you We need to talk Now

He typed back immediately, his fingers flying faster than he thought they could.

in my room is everything ok?

He looked at the screen, saw the bubbles pop up that meant you were typing, then watched as they disappeared. Anakin was frozen, his phone in his hand. We need to talk could just have been a poor phrasing on your part, right? It didn't mean what he thought it did, right? He could deny it only for about five more seconds, when the little bubbles didn't return.

Fuck. Anakin let loose a string of curses and dropped his phone on his desk. He couldn't think of a single thing that would warrant ending… whatever the two of you had. But maybe you'd realized that he was doing a lot more than what fuckbuddies (fuckenemies?) should do, that he was an absolute wreck for you, and had been for a long time.

The caffeine was getting to him, and his leg was bouncing so quickly that he swore his downstairs neighbor would submit a noise complaint. His mind started racing with all the things he never would have told you, the things that would go unsaid if you ended what the two of you were doing. He'd never tell you that he had two dogs growing up, strays, or that his least favorite flavor of Skittles was orange. He'd never tell you that he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way about anyone, ever, and that he had laid awake for the past two nights thinking about how, if at all, he would tell you.

Ahsoka's voice echoed in his ears, wisps of sound urging him to just say something. His mind was racing, a million trains of thought all colliding at once. He should just tell you. He'd never learn your favorite kind of cereal. He hadn't responded to his mom, fuck. He regretted having that Red Bull. He'd never tell you that he called you baby during sex because he wanted to say it other times, too. The answer to that thermo question was probably 36 Joules. He'd never tell you that if you called him a pet name he'd melt and let you win any competition because nothing would matter anymore.

But that was precisely why he hadn't told you how he felt. Because if you felt the same way about him, that would be so much better than any amount of money or award. And that wasn't the kind of person he could be.

He'd spent so long training to control that wild hurricane of emotions that pulled him through everyday life. Anakin channeled it into perfectly neat parallelized circuits and technically exquisite poomsae, but around you it all let loose, angry and passionate and just so much.

It was terrifying. You were terrifying. And there was a selfish part of him that said that he deserved to let all those feelings loose for once. To feel as much as he wanted to feel because, goddammit, he was so tired of control.

But Anakin was a lot. A handful, his teachers always said. It was what ended his previous relationship, what drove Padme away. Would it drive you away, too?

If you walked up to him in two minutes and asked him what the two of you were, if it was just casual or something more, would he have the self-control not to blurt out exactly what he was thinking? His stomach flipped at the idea of you leaving the room, leaving his life, without knowing how he felt.

You walking away from him and disappearing into another part of the country after graduation would kill him. He was pretty sure that seeing you at a reunion in five years with someone on your arm, some beautiful person who you had never hated, would smite him on the spot.

He imagined himself six months from now, when the thesis was over. What would that Anakin want for himself? Would he let himself say something? Fuck it all, he would say. And he was right.

If you were going to end things, he was going to get this off his chest. He had to. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.

The sound of knuckles on wood cut through the silent room like a dagger through his heart. One, two, three seconds passed as he sat in his desk chair, mind totally blank. He tried to produce a coherent feeling or, if he was lucky, an entire thought, but he came up empty.

Before, it was all something nebulous, something he could just worry about. Something he could stress about. Now, it was real. You were behind that door, and you needed to talk. And there was no escaping that. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to the door.

Anakin pretended not to notice that his hand was shaking when he wrapped it around the doorknob.

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The bus ride back to your dorm had been uneventful, other than the way you were staring daggers into the skull of some poor guy in front of you. He had the good sense to not turn around.

Anakin Skywalker is a thief. You clenched your fists, and you could barely feel the sting of your nails in your palms. Barriss wasn't one to lie, based on the past three years you'd spent with her. She told you the facts right after: she overheard one of the graduate students--probably Obi-Wan, but she didn't know who, just some vaguely hot older guy, she said--telling Anakin his idea for a thesis. And then Anakin ran with it.

If she was right, that changed everything. If Anakin really didn't come up with his own idea, that meant he had rigged the competition. He had a leg up this whole time. He really was exactly what you had thought for years. The golden boy of the department who had everything handed to him. And while you'd labored over choosing the perfect, most viable but impressive idea, he had just skipped right over that step. You'd cried over how hard it was to find a good idea, struggled for weeks on end last year, just trying to make something good, let alone great. And he was already weeks ahead of you in the competition.

All of his sweet gestures--staying with you in bed, holding hands in the library, getting you drinks--were suddenly less sweet. Last year, he was in the thesis lab with you, when he was working on his proposal, watching you go through ideas and get upset when they didn't work, and he knew that. And he never told you about where his idea came from, even when you were getting closer. He probably knew it would piss you off, and he still didn't tell you. He'd hidden it from you.

You didn't know if that hurt more or less than the unfairness of his advantage.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of your dorm, and you hopped off, then dashed to the elevator.

You just wanted him to tell you that Barriss was crazy, or misheard. Or anything. Anything to make it not true.

The elevator ride was agony as it whizzed up to his floor.

At his door, you hesitated. If you entered and fought, that made this real. So, so real. The second you walked through that door, everything between the two of you might change.

But you were too furious not to knock. Silence hung for a few seconds before you could hear the door unlock.

Anakin opened it to you, looking unfairly hot. Rage ripped through you as he looked at you with open affection, gesturing to enter his room, like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't lying to you all this time. You stormed in quickly.

"Anakin, I need you to be honest with me." Your voice came out tighter than you wanted as you searched his face for a reaction. He closed the door, then came to stand in front of you.

"I'm always honest with you," Anakin replied earnestly, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he forced a small smile.

You didn't smile back. "How did you come up with the idea for your project?"

"What?" Anakin blinked, caught off guard. He let out a breathy chuckle. "That--that's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Well?" You pressed, crossing your arms. The edge in your voice was obvious, cutting. You could see Anakin go through the stages of realizing what you might mean, and your stomach started to sink even deeper.

Anakin sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I--Really? Okay, fine. There aren't currently any microsurgery tools that mimic human hands. They're all pincers. So I wanted to make one." Your gaze narrowed.

"And you're saying Obi-Wan had nothing to do with it?"

"What are you talking about?" It was probably supposed to sound confused, but it came out more scared. You knew him well enough to tell. God, he was infuriating.

"Did you or did you not get your idea from Obi-Wan?" The words came out like tiny daggers, sharpened steel that you spat at him. His face fell, and you could see the moment that he knew you knew.

"Look, it's not like that," Anakin said, his arms falling to his sides. His eyes were suddenly avoiding yours, like his desk suddenly contained some information he desperately needed, or, preferably an escape hatch.

"Then what is it like?" You shot back, your heart racing. You stepped closer, trying to find an answer in his furrowed eyebrows. "Why can't you just say no?"

Anakin's jaw clenched, and he was obviously searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't piss you off, probably. "Because Obi-Wan helped, I guess."

"You guess?!" Your voice cracked, incredulous.

"I mean--look." Anakin raised his hands defensively. "Sure, Obi-Wan put me on the path to it. But every second in the lab since then has been me. My design, my coding."

"What do you mean put you on the path? You mean he gave you the idea, don't you?" Your frustration with him was boiling over. Even now, he was defending himself, trying to evade this. Justifying. It drove you crazy.

Anakin hesitated, his words faltering. "I--It's not--"

"Are you seriously about to say that it's not that simple or something?" You interrupted, your voice shaking. You threw your hands up, your fury finally reaching its peak. "Because, from here, it looks simple. Like you stole your whole fucking thesis idea!"

"That's not true!" Anakin snapped, his voice louder now. It wasn't the same kind of anger you were used to seeing from him, it was defensive, almost panicked. "Obi-Wan, he just, he suggested I look at applying an old project of mine to microsurgery. And he was right. So, I guess, technically, if you're looking at it like that--sure. He gave me the idea."

You stared at him, his words sinking in. His admission hung between you like a guillotine, its rope finally snapped. The air felt tight, like you were ten thousand miles above sea level and there wasn't enough oxygen to keep you afloat.

Anakin shifted again, his anger gone, his voice softer, pleading. "It's like… I don't know. I guess I feel guilty about it. But I really needed to submit something that day, or I couldn't enter into the competition at all. It was the rules. If I don't do a thesis… I--I don't know. I just had to. And I figured I'd just use that temporarily, and pivot as soon as it was approved, It was in the end of junior spring, and I just couldn't find a topic that worked. That idea I had about hand prosthetics didn't pan out, and I was telling Obi-Wan about it in the lab, and he told me I should look at microsurgery, 'cause they have a lot of the same issues--calibrating movement to user input, holding up to wear and tear, dealing with friction and joint movement--and that I should do my thesis on it."

His eyes finally met yours again, so deep and blue that it almost made you reconsider. Almost. He was pleading, begging you to understand. "So, yeah, I submitted an early version of the idea Obi-Wan gave me. But every second of design, build, everything was me. It's my work."

You stood frozen, silent. After a few long beats, Anakin started to fidget, his hands wringing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"If I could go back, I'd do something else. Anything else." Anakin's voice wavered, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I just--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to submit something, anything. I need to win this," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The anguish over being proven right was something you didn't expect. You should have felt vindicated, that you were actually right all along about him. You should have hated him. But instead, you could feel your heart breaking, like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped over and lifeless. If he had just admitted it to you himself, maybe you could get over this. Maybe. But the fact that he hid it from you cut like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes, and your throat was drier than you'd ever felt it. The words fell from your lips softly, like you could barely get them out.

"How could you?" You felt like you'd never known him, like the person in front of you was a stranger. How could he be both this person, and the one who would keep you warm at night?

Anakin noticed the coldness of your gaze, and it gutted him. Anakin's breath caught, and you could see him shatter in real time. His cheek twitched, right under his scar, and you could swear you saw his eyes start to fill with tears. His hands were shaking where they were clasped together, and you were sure he was leaving indents with his nails. His shoulders shook under his panicked breaths.

He didn't speak for several long seconds, his mouth tugging this way and that as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asked as he stepped toward you, trying to seek reassurance to keep him from falling apart. But you couldn't give it. You didn't even know him anymore.

"I--" you opened your mouth, hesitating, before you restarted, "I don't know." Your voice cracked, but you hardened it. "I didn't before, but now I'm not so sure."

Anakin took another step closer, reaching out with his shaking hands as if to touch you, but you backed away. His face flushed even more, hurt and frustration jumping across his features. It made you even more angry. "This is so fucking unfair, and you just--you just let it happen."

He said your name, trying to jump in, but your anger surged, and it drowned him out.

"I spent weeks getting my idea just right." Each words was more brutal than the last. "Weeks. And you got everything spoon-fed to you. Everything I worked for--and you just took it from someone."

Anakin flinched like you had struck him, but you were far from done.

"I thought I knew you, I thought I was wrong about you this whole time," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, "But I was right all along. You're just a fucking cheater."

A tear slipped down the side of his cheek as you continued. Your voice shook as you admitted to him, and to yourself, what the worst part really was. "And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. And that makes you a fucking asshole."

He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he started to speak. "No, please, it's not--"

"Stop it!" You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. Anakin stood frozen, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Your breath rushed through your nose and your pulse beat in your ears. You couldn't even see him anymore through the tears, but you refused to let them fall. To let him see you cry.

He said your name one more time, begging, pleading. For a moment, you were tempted, but the hurt was too big to ignore.

Your voice was cold, distant. "Get away from me," you ordered. Your back was rigid with anger and hurt. "And leave me the fuck alone."

Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

You stalked down the hall as quickly as you could, ignoring the buzzing in your pocket as the tears you were holding back finally poured down your cheeks. You didn't even have the energy to wipe them away, you just let them fall while you punched the button for the elevator.

Only when the door closed, and you pulled out your phone to call Ahsoka, did you see his messages.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

They were all sent minutes apart. You could hear his voice reading them, desperate and thick with tears. Even though you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at him, the idea of him crying still made your chest ache. And then it made you feel vindicated. But then it made you feel horrible again.

You arrived back to the lobby, then crossed the building to the other elevator bank, trying to avoid the awkward gazes the students passing by gave you. You sniffled wetly, wiping away your tears, as you ran up the two flights of steps that brought you to your room. You unlocked the door as quickly as you could, then hid inside.

Your phone buzzed again.

i understand that you don't want to talk, but the second you're ready, i'll be here. i'll always be here.

The words made you sob loudly, and you were thankful for a moment that Ahsoka wasn't home. Until you saw the text, it hadn't hit you that this was the last time you'd talk for a while. You couldn't even remember the last kiss you two had shared. The library? Was that the kiss you wanted this to end on? You'd never see his half-lidded eyes as he worshipped you, never hear him call you baby again.

Why did he have to go and fuck it all up? You asked yourself, sobs wracking your body as you slid down the door. You couldn't tell if you were more sad or angry, but you were definitely heartbroken. Lately, his casual touches, his affection, the way you slept together every night, it was starting to feel like more. But it was all gone now.

You had been numbed with caffeine and stress, but the past week, you felt like you were soaring every time he touched you. Every time he gave you that intense look he always did.

But the two of you were just hooking up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more, and you never thought you'd feel the pull to be with him when you weren't fucking, but it was like gravity. Even now, you wanted him to comfort you. Not someone, but him.

The realization that you had feelings for him hit you like a truck. All the breath was gone from your lungs, gone to some other dimension.

You liked Anakin Skywalker. Even though he was an asshole. Even though he'd hurt you. But those feelings didn't end just because whatever you were had ended, they didn't leave you alone.

You could have been his girlfriend if he hadn't hidden this from you. And that was the last nail in the coffin that made you break down fully.

You sat there, crying, sobbing, wailing, for at least another half hour before you dragged yourself to the shower. It made you feel the tiniest bit better to have your hair clean, your tears scrubbed off your face until the skin went sensitive and ruddy. When the water turned off, it was cold, and you relished the shock to your system.

And then, you started the process of getting over him. You knew you had to do it eventually, and you only had to get through finals before you could go home and forget all about him. Come January, when you next saw him in the lab, it'd be like seeing any other classmate.

That thought was enough to make you start crying again while you stood in the towel you stole from your house. Your tears mingled with the water from the shower, and it was enough to let you pretend that you weren't crying, that becoming strangers with Anakin didn't kill you inside.

You promised yourself that this would be the last time you cried this semester. That night, if you felt the threat of tears, you just threw yourself harder into whatever you were studying. There was nothing else you could do.

At the thermo exam two days later, you walked in later than you usually would for a final that was this important. When you slipped into the class, two minutes before they started passing out test papers, you spotted Anakin in the corner. Because of course you did. Your eyes hadn't stopped finding him in every photo, in every room. He had always been magnetic, and, just because you weren't together anymore didn't mean that stopped. And he was looking right at you.

His gaze ripped through you with some mix of desperation, affection, and sorrow. Anakin looked, in one word, horrible. His eyes were sunken in, red and swollen from crying. Most people would not have noticed, but you knew him too well. His dark circles had come back with a vengeance, like fresh bruises on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. His mouth twitched when he looked at you, like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes followed your path.

Throughout the exam, you could feel his eyes on you a couple of times, but you didn't allow yourself to turn around and look. You let the calm of equations and math wash over you, and soon there was nothing but the test. The questions and the precise way you wrote Greek letters in the blue book lulled you into a state of calm you desperately needed.

When you handed in your exam, you allowed yourself another look at Anakin, and then you left the building. You didn't see him before you went on break two days later.

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Two days before break, he saw you again. He hadn't changed his habits, still studied in the dining hall and had meals there, sometimes went to the library, and he secretly hoped, thrummed with anticipation, that maybe, just maybe, you'd be there too. That maybe you'd see him and realize you wanted to talk it out. That, obviously, did not happen. He spent an embarrassing amount of time awake, because you haunted his dreams whenever they came. The disgusted look on your face and the words I was right all along, you're a fucking asshole echoed in the back of his eyelids and his mind's eye whenever he laid down. So, he stayed up. More time to study, right?

He spent most of those 48 hours trying not to cry and failing miserably. Even when he broke up with Padme, it wasn't like this. He was angry, indignant, and, of course, sad, but it was the kind of sadness that settled deep on his shoulders and dulled the world around him. It wasn't the kind of sadness that wrenched sobs from his chest whenever he wasn't careful. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him regret ever going to this college, ever meeting you.

Ahsoka cast him a funny look at him one night, when he fell asleep in a common room. She gently shook him awake, and noticed the redness rimming his eyes, and the way his hands shook from too much caffeine. She gave him a hug and made him promise to sleep tonight.

He did, and that was the night before the test. Every muscle and joint screamed in protest as he dragged himself from his bed. He arrived fifteen minutes early, just to make sure he got a good seat, and then his head kept swiveling like an owl. Every time the click of the doors opening echoed through the nearly empty lecture hall, he locked onto the person entering. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally given glares to at least four poor souls before you finally entered.

He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably failed the exam right then.

You were even prettier than he remembered, and the depth of your eyes when you stared at him was enough to make him shudder. Even now, he'd give anything to be with you again. When you sat down and didn't look at him again for the next three hours, he felt bits of his heart break off and get trampled under equations about heat diffusion and air pressure. You turned in your test, and then left, and he looked after you longingly. His eyes snapped back to his paper when he got a weird look from the TA.

He turned in his exam paper, rushed home, and promptly passed out on his bed. You came to him in his dreams, of course. Naked in his arms, lips pliant and wanting under him. The way your tongue peeked out when you were too hard at work, or the shimmer of your eyes when he made you laugh. The betrayal on your face. Get away from me.

He spent the rest of finals in a fugue state, doing tasks and exams because he was supposed to. Then, finally, the last one passed, and he was finally released to go home. He hadn't seen you since the exam, and that was probably better for him, he reasoned.

On day 1 of break, Anakin drove the whole day and listened to absolutely depressing music the whole time. He pulled over once and, in a fit of rage, smacked the steering wheel a few times. How could he be so stupid? How was he this much of an idiot? He sat at the rest stop for another fifteen minutes, his sweaty forehead on the steering wheel. Five hours later, when he arrived home late in the evening, he hugged his mom. Everything felt a little bit better after that. He had dinner with Shmi and Cliegg, even though all he wanted to do was lay in bed and sulk. He fell asleep quickly--he was too exhausted to stay up torturing himself with what could have been.

On day 2 of break, he lay in bed and just generally moped around. He could never be still for long, so that meant getting up to eat snacks, flicking through TV shows listlessly, and trying not to look at the texts you two had exchanged. He only cried twice, once at the thought that you'd never meet his mom, and the other at the memory of your body in his arms as he fell asleep. Both reduced him to hot, silent tears.

On day 3 of break, he did yard work and drove by his old dojang to say hi to his high school coach. He ended up agreeing to teach some lessons over break to avoid having to sit at home alone with his thoughts for three entire weeks. Plus, the money was good. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting that thesis prize at all, at this rate. He only cried once, at night, when he thought about having to watch you work in the thesis lab without speaking to you. He wouldn't cross that boundary. You already knew he wanted to talk, and you hadn't texted him back.

On days 4-9, he taught three hours of lessons a day. It was calming, familiar. He only had to splash cold water in his face to avoid getting too upset two or three times per day, but the undercurrent of wondering what you were doing never stopped torturing him. He hadn't touched himself in at least two weeks, and he regularly had to stop his thoughts from drifting away to the last time he was inside you. Every time it happened at home, in bed, he got up and took a cold shower. It served him right. At the end of the week, he went to the mall and bought his mom a Christmas present with the money he earned. Just because he knew his mom wanted to blend their family better, he picked out something small he could afford for Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, too.

On day 10, it was Christmas Eve, so everything was closed. There was nothing to do, so he answered a few emails from Professor Jinn, cleaned the oven, and helped his mom prepare for Christmas dinner. There were files on his device he had prepared specifically to work on his thesis over break, but his project made him nauseous. He'd give it all back for a chance to start over. He'd get a B on his thesis if it would make this pain stop. He didn't touch the files, and, that night, when he finally gave in to the temptation to see if you'd posted anything on social media, he didn't touch his cock, either, even though just an image of you was enough to drive him wild at that point.

On day 11, it was Christmas, and he woke up at 4am in his bed, as hard as a rock. Anakin spent an hour tossing and turning and begging his body to just let him sleep, but, eventually he gave in. It was Christmas, right? He deserved a present. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even try to think of someone else. It was you. It had been for a while. Your little noises as he kissed up your neck, the scrunch of your eyebrows right as you came, and the tight grip of your pussy around him when he buried himself to the hilt inside you were enough to make him cum all over his hand within a minute. He found it embarrassing, honestly, that you had this effect on him. Anakin fell asleep quickly and tried not to feel too gross about what he'd done.

On day 11, attempt 2, he woke up around 11, right before lunch, and came down to wish his mother and Cliegg a merry Christmas. Beru and Owen were supposed to come for dinner, but, this morning, it was just the three of them. Anakin had no particular yearning for Cliegg to be a father figure, he just wanted his mom to be happy. If Cliegg did that, then he'd watch endless movies with the two of them, or get Cliegg a present. But if she didn't want to be with him anymore, Anakin wasn't sure he'd miss him. Their second anniversary was in three weeks, and it was a shock that it had been that much time already. When dinner rolled around, and he greeted Owen and Beru awkwardly, not sure what a person is supposed to say to a newly-acquired sibling. He'd seen them a sum total of maybe ten times, almost all of which had to do with the wedding, so they were in how-was-school and how's-the-new-job and gosh-the-winter-has-been-brutal territory. When Anakin gave them their presents, they seemed overjoyed. He'd gotten them matching scarves, each with their first initial embroidered onto it. It was a miracle they had them in stock at the mall, he thought, but the present seemed to hit the right spot. Cliegg got the aforementioned fishing pole, something his mom had told him he was prattling on about, and he got his mom a beautiful new winter coat. She had been mending hers for years, and water and snow would soak right through it, but when he saw the beautiful down puffer coat in the store window, he knew she'd love it. He was right.

Cliegg got him a Laser Distance Measure, which must have cost a pretty penny, and Owen and Beru got him various engineering gadgets (a nice mechanical pencil for technical drawings and a cable carrying case, respectively). His mother's gift, though, was something he'd never be able to forgive. She had bought him a beautiful, fresh Raspberry Pi set, with 8 GB of RAM. It wasn't the most expensive thing in the world, but the $150 or $200 that it did cost her was enough to make him tear up. He'd mentioned months ago that he was thinking of getting one for some personal projects, something for his portfolio, and she bought it. He had the good sense not to say anything like You aren't supposed to get me presents for Christmas and crushed her in a hug, the kind that whispered I know how much this is worth, and I'm so lucky you're my mom. For a second, he was worried he would cry when he saw the crow's feet appear by her eyes, and he felt how thin the skin on her hands had gotten. When had she gotten so much older? For a terrifying moment, he realized he'd have to live without her one day, but then Cliegg made some comment about how he'd made hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the living room to chat. As the last tendrils of sunlight fell beneath the swath of trees in their backyard, he laughed at something Owen had said, and he felt the tiniest bit less alone. Like maybe it didn't matter if he got an A in thermo or had the best thesis in his year. The notion left him quickly.

On days 12-17, the warm feeling had subsided, and all he could think about was what you were doing. Whether you were moving on, or if you still felt the same way he did. If you wanted him again. The fantasy of you seeing him again and realizing that, oh, actually, you wanted to work it out, and also kiss him, inevitably ended with his hand on his cock and cum on his stomach, then regret and shame for about an hour afterward. Once the studio had reopened, he kept teaching there, but with more hours this time. Also, Anakin could finally open the folder on his computer named Thesis without cringing at it, but barely. His heart still skipped about four beats when he thought about how he'd have to see you practically every day. He pushed thoughts like that from his mind as much as he could. No point in torturing himself more than the actual semester would.

Day 18 was New Year's Eve. He went to a party hosted by some of his high school friends, some rager at a frat house. He just wanted to get drunk, honestly, and this seemed like a great excuse. It was sticky and hot even right outside the door, but the sweaty blast of steam that hit him when someone opened it turned his stomach. But the beer was free, so he wouldn't complain too much. A couple of times, he noticed a girl checking him out over the bone-shaking bass. He might have made a move, if he were a different person. If any one of them was you, or had your smile, or your eyes. As soon as he noticed something that was too different from you, he averted his gaze. They were all cute, he supposed, but that didn't matter. They weren't you. When the countdown started, Anakin retreated, not interested in being pulled into some kiss that stunk of beer. Instead, despite knowing he'd regret it, he sent you a text. happy new year, it read. He blamed the tequila, and went back into the fray of cheering people.

From days 19-24, Anakin kept on keeping. Dishes, teaching, occasional progress on his thesis. He submitted over 20 job applications. Sometime in the week, in his daily rehashing of all your messages, he noticed the read receipt had popped up on his text from New Year's Eve, and he cursed himself. He was cursing himself a lot lately. Especially when he promised he wouldn't jerk off over you, but it always ended up happening. The subtle rock of his hips against the mattress when he thought of you, grinding the hard flesh against the soft material, then the sticky warmth of release and the rush of regret that always came with it. The heat of the shower made him hard when he thought about how he'd always wanted to try fucking in the shower, more specifically, fucking you in the shower. He really shouldn't, he reasoned while his hand pumped his dick.

Day 25 was spent driving again, after he gave his mom a big hug and threw his suitcase in the car. Despite himself, he realized that he was no more over you than he had been on his drive to his house. The fact that he would see you tomorrow still made him perk up and wilt at the same time. In a short twenty-four hours, you'd be real, three-dimensional in front of him again. He wasn't sure what would happen--would you kiss him? Slap him? Combust? He could never tell with you. He wondered if you'd cut your hair over break, or if you'd talked to Ahsoka about him. Whatever fantasies he'd been nursing, they were all going to be proven or disproven tomorrow. So he had to use the hour before he arrived on campus to imagine, as hard as he could, that you were in the passenger seat. That you were his girlfriend. That you had just come from meeting his mom, who had shown you a bunch of truly humiliating baby pictures and had whispered to him that she liked you when you had gone to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, that was the reality he lived in.

You had compared schedules last semester, before things got weird, and you shared only two classes, both of which were on Mondays and Wednesdays. At 10:30, you'd both be in Unsupervised Learning, then at 2:30, you'd both take Dynamic Systems and Controls. When he woke up at 8:30, he showered, then tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He put on a shirt he knew you loved (you'd remarked on how well it fit him, and he didn't see it, but you did, and that was all that mattered) and his most comfortable jeans and hoodie. He secretly hoped you were doing the same kind of preening at home, trying to look good for him, but he didn't let the thought take up too much room in his mind.

At 10:25, when he walked into the lecture hall, he saw you instantly. Time stopped as he felt like someone had just gotten a particularly good hit to his solar plexus, and his whole body was responding, out of breath and weak and dizzy all at the same time. You were in the third row, to the left-hand side of the seats, and you looked more gorgeous than he remembered. How didn't he spend the whole break fantasizing about the way your hair shone or the curve of your neck? Seconds started ticking by again when he realized he was blocking the path to the seats, much to the anger of the group of people behind him. He walked down the steps to the second row like everything was normal, then positioned himself on the other side of the lecture hall. He kept his eyes firmly not trained on you for as long as he could, and, when the professor started droning, he turned to look at you, really look at you.

You had put on just a touch of makeup, something he'd noticed years ago that you always did on the first day of class. It suited you, and you looked well-rested and happy. Like you didn't miss him at all. It gutted him like a fish on the chopping block. What was wrong with him? How could he let you get away?

He turned back to the professor, pretending to be interested in the syllabus. When class ended, by the time he packed up his things, you had gone.

The second class was a repeat of the first, only in a smaller lecture hall. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he snuck glances. He was only human.

He didn't go into the lab for the week, mainly because he was almost done with build and was spending most of his time on securing materials for testing. They had their first practice that Monday, so he got dressed and headed over to the Athletic Center, where he grounded himself in the ritual, the calming power of it all. It was amazing to see Rex and Ahsoka again. They always made him smile, something he'd been missing over the break.

Later that week, Ahsoka invited him to your room to talk about that semester's competitions. He hesitated the appropriate amount of time before he accepted. The hallway to your room was achingly familiar, just like he'd seen it in his dreams. Only Ahsoka was home, so she wasted no time before interrogating him about what happened with the two of you.

When he told her the general gist, she had the good decency to be honest and tell him that he was kind of being an asshole by not mentioning it, but that it was normal to get advice from professors and other students. It wasn't ideal for it to be as explicitly grabbed, sure, but the point still stood.

By the time the door opened and you came in (his mind raced--from a date? from class? from some other part of your life that he would never come to know?), Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing taekwondo logistics. You looked gorgeous in the cozy cable-knit sweater you had on, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn't staring the way he thought he was.

You looked shocked for a good second before smiling awkwardly with a little "hey." You retreated to your room almost instantly, and Anakin felt a pit open up, wondering if he'd made you uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault, honestly, but he still felt guilty. He left an hour afterward.

Was this his fate? To watch you from a middle distance as you lived your life? He was trapped, pinned down like a bug, reading into everything he saw. If you were in a four-block radius, his eyes would find you. They always would. In class, he had to stop himself from turning toward you, from studying your features and trying to read anything from them. He never could.

Anakin was still fucking haunted by you, especially now that he was on campus. Everything reminded him of you. The boba place, every inch of your dorm, the emptiness in his mattress. He knew he was hallucinating when he thought he spied you at practice one day, just a wisp of hair in the corner of the room, but, by the time he did a double take, there was only empty floor there.

On Thursday, he got a text from Ahsoka.

Party tomorrow at Cody's. You should come, she had written. He didn't really, actually feel like partying. But he went anyway. Maybe he could spend enough time with his friends to forget about you.

He threw on a nice shirt, some kind of button-up his mom had gotten him, cuffed the sleeves, and set off.

It was a standard-issue party. He'd been to plenty of them, so he figured was ready and prepared for what he'd see and feel. Bass in his eardrums so loud it shook the blood in his veins. Having to scream basic conversation over music. Cheap beer and a sticky floor. Enough heat that his hair would start curling more.

It felt like home. He entered, found Cody and Ahsoka quickly, promising to return after he grabbed a drink. Anakin made his way to the folding table crammed full of bottles, as well as some kind of vile jungle juice, and took two shots. Just enough to stop thinking about you, he hoped.

By the time he fought his way back to Cody and Ahsoka, he was feeling it. Rex had joined them in the meantime, and Anakin joined the little huddle. They were talking (read: yelling "what did you say?" over the music) about one of Cody's dates that week, and Anakin let himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his friends. It was nice, honestly. He only thought of you five or six times, which was a record low.

Then Ahsoka suggested they go get another drink, and, as the four of them pushed back toward the drinks station, he saw you.

You were fucking radiant, and the breath stalled in his chest. You had always been the only thing he ever wanted to look at in a room, even from sophomore year, when you began to piss him off more than anything, but right now, you were a supernova. And he was a moth. He felt his wings get burned off as he traced the curve of your jaw and acknowledged to himself that, yeah, he probably wasn't going to get over you until you were across state lines.

You were wearing some sinfully short, tight dress, which crept higher and higher up your thighs. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra, and something stirred inside of him.

But then he saw the guy standing next to you, leaning in to tell something to your ear. Anakin hated himself for the thought, but he instantly started comparing himself to the guy. What was Mr. Boat Shoes saying to you that made you tip your head back and laugh like that? He remembered when he used to do that, when he would make you throw your head back to do more than just laugh.

Anakin felt his jaw clench and his body start to shake with the same energy that he always had before competitions, coiled like a snake about to strike.

He knew it was a bad idea, he really did. But he was never one to resist bad ideas. He blamed the alcohol. It wasn't that you were his, or some misguided attempt at owning you, but he just couldn't watch this. He couldn't let this feeling tear him apart anymore. When you swatted the guy's chest playfully, Anakin felt his eye twitch, right under his scar. Oh hell no. But he shouldn't. It was your business.

Fuck it.

Anakin started pushing through the crowd, and then he saw the guy lean in, and he saw red.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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#anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker/you #anakin/you #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #star wars prequels #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine

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zosin-ya · 4 months ago

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Topic 8 - [ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Summary: Surviving on instant noodles, you order takeout in the middle of exam prep—what you didn’t expect was your delivery guy to be a ridiculously hot, tattooed biker. Even more surprising? He’s a fellow med student at your university. As good as it sounded, he had a complicated past with an obsessive Ex who starts to target you.

tags.: One Piece, Law x Reader, SFW & NSFW, slow burn romance, Modern AU, Penguin and Shachi as flatmates, fashion-designer uncle Corazon, Laws parents, Laws crazy Ex, Strawhats as your friends (+ Bonney), protective Law, mentioned of his dead sister, also mentions of Laws trauma

a.n.: I pulled this story out of my ass and it’s rather spontaneous how I write the story. If you have ideas, I’m open to them 🖤

status: [ongoing] last updated Nov 20th 2024

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴅᴇʟɪᴠᴇʀʏ

An awkward encounter with the handsome delivery guy, who hardly speaks to you, yet somehow makes your heart skip a beat with his pretty face.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 - ɪᴄᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ

Law was at your door once again, this time out of breath and visibly stressed. You offer him something to drink, which sparks a conversation that eventually leads to an exchange of numbers.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3 - ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

At the café, you met up for a study date and saw a more relaxed, yet still exhausted, side of Law. Penguin showed up, clearly curious as to why Law was hanging out with someone from his university—especially since he rarely spent time with those people.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4 - ʙᴏʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

Penguin couldn't keep his mouth shut about Law meeting you, which led him and Shachi to bombard him with questions. It was just a study date, right? No big deal. His flatmates quickly realized how oblivious he was. Or was he just denying any meaning, trying to protect himself from another crazy relationship.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴜɴ

Law invites you to a party, and after a few drinks, the two of you start to loosen up around each other. So much that the bathroom becomes a short lived make out spot.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6 - ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇ (n.sfw)

After you forgot your keys at home and had no where to stay, Law casually offers his apartment for the night without any second intentions. Though the heat from the make out session still lingering in the air.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7 - ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ (n.sfw)

You meet Laws kind-hearted uncle, Rosinante, and learn more about his complex family history. What was supposed to be a casual, cozy game night with Law quickly takes an unexpected and more intimate turn.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8 - ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀᴍᴇɴᴛ

A girl you've never met before, starts a chit chat with you during an uni event, you being immediately drawn in by her friendly, outgoing nature. Before you knew it, she invited you to a small party where she hinted you could make some valuable connections. Little did you realize, networking with a biker gang wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for boosting your CV.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9 - ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ɢᴀɴɢ

You dearly needed a girl's night with your friends after all what had happened. Law came to pick you up, yet got dragged into the chaos of a spontaneous party with your friends. Someone save this guy.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10 - ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ? (n.sfw)

This day should have been special, with you and Law celebrating your academic milestone together with friends and family. Yet, Laws private and closed off personality shots back at him, causing you to break down.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11 - ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

It had been weeks since you had talked to Law, feeling drained from the past events. You needed time to figure the relationship out, which caused you to run away from talking completely and be confronted with a storm, none of you were ready to face.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12 - ɴᴇᴡ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (n.sfw)

Trying to mend the damage he had caused, Law makes an effort to open up to you this time. He shared pieces of his past, including hobbies he’d long buried. He never anticipated that attending Zoro’s Kendo tournament with you would reignite an old spark within him—or that it would stir a newfound desire to impress you.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13 - ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴀʟʟɪᴇꜱ

Two unexpected intruders—familiar faces no less—show up at your door, shocked to find you inside. Hired to break into what turned out to be the wrong apartment, Kid and Killer aren’t prepared for your defiance. Mustering all the courage you have, you scare them off and waste no time alerting Law, who doesn’t take kindly to their mistake and pays them a visit.

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lynnie-ee · 3 months ago

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Day 4; Convince.

╰┈➤"Telling your friends that you're in a relationship with Scarabia's vicehousewarden was supposed to be easy and nice to share...Once you can convince them you're telling the truth, of course."

╰►Gender neutral reader, oneshot, 3.2k words.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

⤿

Sleepovers at Ramshackle started as something casual. It only happened a few times every month, maybe the day after an overblot, as a way to make (Y/n) some company after difficult days. However, after some time, they became more regular, and more crowded.

At first, it was only Deuce and Ace. Then Jack joined, then Epel, Ortho, and somehow, even Sebek started to assist, under the excuse that Silver guarded Malleus back at Diasomnia, whereas he was in charge of guarding Ramshackle in case Malleus decided to visit Ramshackle at night, as he usually did (Malleus never went when the Prefect informed him that they were going to have a sleepover with the first-years).

They usually played video games, watched movies or just talked about school stuff. Like they did now, as they were reunited at the lounge of Ramshackle; Ace, Deuce and Epel laying on some makeshift beds that were on the ground, the Prefect sitting on one of the sofas with Grim, Sebek and Jack on the other sofa nearby, and Ortho sitting happily on one of the chairs of the room.

“Did y’all know that Rook’s partner from the Science club broke up with his girlfriend?” Epel commented, as he ate some chips out of a now half-empty bag.

“Epel, don’t you think it’s quite inappropriate to talk about other people’s personal life?” Jack questioned.

“Uuuuh, you’re talking about that one guy from Scarabia?” Ace asked right away, promptly ignoring Jack’s words.

“Yeah, that one.” The Pomefiore student nodded. “You think he cheated or something?”

“It’s kinda mean to suggest that.” Deuce commented. “…But I heard that his girlfriend found some messages from another girl on the past holidays.”

“If that’s the case, he should be punished for tarnishing his dorm’s reputation with such immoral behaviour.” This time was Sebek who joined.

“They didn’t break up because of that, though.” The Prefect clarified. “It was because he did terrible on his last exams, and his girlfriend told him through the phone, and I quote, ‘she wouldn’t date a dumb loser’, something like that.”

“How do you even know that?” Ace was quick to question.

“I was at Scarabia when the girl called him, she was loud enough to be heard even if he didn’t have the volume up.” They replied nonchalantly, as they accommodated the blanket that covered Grim and them, as the small beast complained that he was feeling cold.

“What were you doing at Scarabia either way?” The Pomefiore first-year asked as he reached for another bag of chips.

“Oh, about that…” The Prefect murmured, now wondering if this was the time to tell them. After all, this was one of the few times when all of their friends were reunited in a place without other students around, and they probably would notice at some point, if they hadn’t noticed already. “Now that we’re talking about that, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

“Oh, really? Do tell us, Prefect.” Ortho encouraged, moving his chair to hear them more clearly.

“Well, I waited a little bit before telling all of you because we decided to be more discreet for now, but I think is best for you to hear it from me rather than someone else.” (Y/n) started, as the rest of first-years looked at them expectantly. “I’m dating someone.”

For a few seconds, silence prevailed over the room, no visible reaction out of their friends, until Ace suddenly yelled triumphantly.

“I knew you were dating Kalim! Pay up, Deuce!” He immediately turned towards his dormmate to collect their bet.

“Well, congrats Prefect, good for you-“

“What? I’m not dating Kalim!” The magicless human was quick to correct. “I’m dating Jamil!”

Another silence.

And then, Ace’s loud laugh.

“C’mon Prefect! You don’t have to lie.”

“It’s okay if you have a crush on him or something, but you shouldn’t pressure yourself to say such things…”

“We can help you if you want to look for someone else, though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” (Y/n) questioned discomposed by their friends’ comments, probably more upset at the fact that they weren’t mocking them, and their suggestions seemed genuine, for some reason.

“Please don’t be offended.” Deuce tried to reassure them. "It’s not that you’re ugly or unattractive, I think you’re very nice and pretty. It’s just that…”

“Jamil is…Jamil, y’know?” Ace complemented Deuce’s comment. “I see him a lot at practice, he just doesn’t seem the kind to date someone.”

“Yeah, besides isn’t he like, busy all day with his dorm stuff?”

“Jamil is a very diligent vicehousewarden and a dedicated guardian to Kalim, a relationship would only distract him from his duties!”

“Idia says that he could probably beat him in a competition of who sleeps less, it would be incredible if he managed to be in a relationship even with how tired he probably is.”

“I think you are exaggerating…But I agree he doesn’t look like the kind of person to be in a relationship.”

“His food is really good! You should invite him over more frequently.”

“That’s not the point of the conversation, Grim.” The Prefect sighed, wondering when they thought this would be a good idea. “I’m not saying I like him; I’m saying I’m dating him. Like, we already went through all the confessing part and stuff, he’s my boyfriend!” They stared at their group of friends. “You don’t believe me, don’t you?” They asked with a deadpan expression.

“I’d never call you a liar.” Jack answered immediately. “But it is hard to think about it…”

“Even you, Jack, I can’t believe this.” The magicless human sank onto the sofa, offended that none of them could imagine them dating Jamil. They knew he was handsome and committed to his responsibilities, but c’mon, they were the Prefect of Ramshackle, the one who survived multiple overblots, who built their dorm from scratch and managed to stay sane (lowkey) on a world that wasn’t even theirs. It wasn’t difficult to put some respect to their name, wasn’t it?

“You’re all bad friends and I hate you all.” They mumbled as they covered themselves with the blanket with a dramatic demeanour. “Even Grim was more supportive than all of you.”

“You were?” Ace frowned towards the direction of the little beast.

“He makes nice meals and always brings my henchman food for lunch! He’s not that bad, he brought the great Grim a tuna can once.”

“It’s not like Grim is the best source of information, though…”

“You know what? I’ve got nothing to prove to you.” (Y/n) got up abruptly, the offended expression still adorning their face. “You will see it by yourselves soon enough.”

“Sure, Prefect, if that makes you sleep better at night.”

“One more word and I’ll kick all of you out of my dorm.”

⤿

“What class do we have after this?”

“Shared gym class with Vargas.”

“Great, I’ll have to listen to Sebek screaming for an hour more than usual.”

“I’ll let you know I speak on a perfectly decent volume! You humans just have weak ears!”

“Great Sevens, have mercy on me…”

The group of first-years walked on the main hallway, already on their way to their next class, when the Prefect caught a glimpse of a certain vicehousewarden who seemed to be walking towards another classroom.

‘This is my chance to prove them wrong.’

“Jamil, hey!” The magicless human separated from the group to get close to the Scarabia student, who looked at them as soon as they heard their voice. “How are you-“

“I’m very sorry my love, I’ve got a test with Crewel in less than five minutes, I’ll talk to you later.” He walked past quickly with an apologetic voice tone, leaving the Prefect started as they watched him disappear promptly at the end of the hall.

As they stood there, even now far away from their group of friends, they could hear Ace’s snickering, the sound even more prominent as they walked back with them. After all, they were close enough to see how the vicehousewarden turned them down, but not close enough to hear the fondness of Jamil’s voice or the pet name.

“Very romantic, Prefect.”

“Shut up.”

⤿

The cafeteria buzzed with the sound of multiple chats of the many tables filled with students from different dorms all around the place. (Y/n) arrived at the table where Ace, Epel, Ortho and Sebek were waiting for them, as Deuce and Jack hadn’t finished their club practice yet. As they sat next to them, their phone suddenly buzzed.

Jamil: ‘I brought you lunch’

Me: ‘I can bring my own meal, you know? I’m not that irresponsible’

Jamil: ‘A meal better than curry?’

Me: ‘…I want you to know that I really love you.’

Jamil: ‘I’m on the tables next to the windows, come quickly’

“I’ll be back in a minute.” The magicless human notified their friends, as they made their way towards the table where Scarabia student was waiting for them.

“Hey handsome, how did you do on Crewel’s test?” The Prefect asked right away, discreetly taking his hand to squeeze lightly as a greeting.

“It was good, I just got late after running some errands in the morning.” He sighed, squeezing their hand back, and then softly dropping it to take the extra lunchbox he brought. “Here, take it.”

“Thank you, Jamil, I really appreciate it.”

“It was nothing, I hope you like it.”

“You cooked it, of course I will. You’ve got practice today after class, don’t you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing, just asking. See you later.” They turned back, ready to go back to their table with their friends.

‘Heh, now I can show the guys that my beautiful boyfriend brought me a fantastic lunch-'

“Hey stop that! If you’re not careful I’ll-AH, Oh, I’m very sorry!” Suddenly, a first-year from another class crashed against them. “I’m so so sorry, my friend here was bothering me and I- Great Sevens, your lunch!”

Well, now the lunch made by their beautiful boyfriend lay on the ground, and (Y/n) could only stare at it with a deadpanned expression.

“You’re okay?” Jamil rushed to their side, promptly checking if they were hurt by the other student.

“Yeah, but the lunchbox…”

“I can pay for your lunch! I really apologize.” The first-year spoke again. (Y/n) had seen him a few times before, and they knew he wasn’t a bad guy, his only crime was being a bit clumsy and having annoying friends. They had that in common, perhaps.

“No, don’t worry, it's alright.” They commented with a dismissive expression.

“I can give you part of my lunch, if you want.” The vicehousewarden was quick to offer.

“It’s fine, like I said before, I brought my lunch as well. Besides, curry is your favourite. I’ll see you after class.”

“Alright, have a nice meal.”

“You too.”

They turned around and came back to their seat, this time without the lunchbox between their hands, sitting on their spot as they stared at the table.

They, in fact, forgot to bring their own lunch.

⤿

Two classes and one-half of a sandwich that Epel gave them later, it was finally the end of the day. It was tiring, but at least it was Friday, which usually meant that a sleepover would take place at Ramshackle, but this time, the boys wanted to try a new video game in which (Y/n) had no interest, so the sleepover would be moved to Heartslabyul, leaving the Prefect a night to rest.

After making a quick stop by the cafeteria, they walked towards the gym, where the basketball practice took place. There, (Y/n) could spot Jamil right away, near the benches. As they entered the room, they greeted other students briefly, noticing then Ace chatting with other first-years in the middle of the court.

‘Maybe this could be a good opportunity to show him he was wrong…’

“It’s good to see you, my love. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

“Yeah, it was very…delicious.” The prefect answered with an awkward smile. “Are you busy after practice?”

“Not really.” He answered, making (Y/n) look at him curiously. “Kalim came back to Scalding Sands for the weekend, for an important family gathering, and he requested for me to stay here.”

“Really? Did he say why he did it?”

“...No.”

“How strange, because Kalim told me last week how happy he was to give you a free weekend to spend with me.” The Ramshackle student teased with a smile. Ever since he found out they were dating (which was like two days after they got together), he seemed so excited for Jamil that (Y/n) could swear that he was probably waiting to organize their wedding right away.

“…Yeah, very unusual. Don’t think much about it.” The vicehousewarden dismissed the topic, a faint blush on his face.

“Well, considering that, would you like to come to Ramshackle tonight? Grim is staying a Heartslabyul, so we could watch a movie or something like that. Only if you want, of course.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.”

“It’s settled, then.” They smiled at him. “Practice is probably going to start soon, so I should leave. See you at Ramshackle at 6?”

“I’ll be there.” Jamil looked around for a few seconds, before towards them to leave a soft and brief kiss on their lips as a way to say goodbye.

The Prefect stood in their place for a few seconds, dumbfounded, as Jamil walked away nonchalantly towards where the rest of the team was. They had kissed before, but it wasn’t often in public, due to Jamil’s reserved nature, so it was surprising for them.

‘Take that, Ace!’

They walked happily towards the exit, until the figure of a certain first-year appeared through the door.

“Ace? Weren’t you here already?”

“Yeah, but I had to refill my water bottle. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Well, I…” They mumbled, until they suddenly realised. “Wait, you didn’t even see?!”

“See what?” The Heartslabyul student asked, genuinely confused.

“You know what? I don’t care anymore.” (Y/n) sighed, walking away from the gym, and leaving his friend confused at their change of demeanour.

⤿

“So, they don’t believe you?”

“Yeah, and you haven’t been cooperative either.”

Jamil and (Y/n) chatted as they prepared to go to sleep. They had already spent the evening watching movies and talking, and after Jamil had made dinner for the both of them, they realised how dark was outside. This motivated (Y/n) to suggest that it was too late and too far for Jamil to walk alone back to his dorm (It was 11 pm and it was a 15-minute walk), so he should just stay the night.

They were already lying on bed, just talking, when (Y/n) remembered the dilemma that had bothered them for the past few days and started to narrate his failed attempts to demonstrate to their friends that they were, in fact, incredible enough to date Jamil.

“I didn’t know I had to cooperate in the first place, so that should excuse me.”

“You literally walked past me when I wanted to talk to you.”

“I was late.”

“The boys mocked me for the rest of the day!” (Y/n) complained, plopping their head onto Jamil's chest to prove their frustration. “I can’t believe they don’t think I’m capable of dating you.”

“If it’s making you uneasy, I could talk to them-“

“That would be even more embarrassing.” They sighed. “I gave up. If they don’t want to believe me, it’s up to them.”

“I don’t get them, though. I thought I was obvious, back then when I started to like you, so I believed that your friends would notice.”

“You had too much faith in them. Besides, you weren’t obvious, even I didn’t notice.”

“I tutored you for Trein’s class and I helped you manage your dorm.”

“And?”

“That's a lot more of anything that I’d do for anyone else that wasn’t you.” The vicehousewarden threw one of his arms around (Y/n), who answered by nuzzling closer to him.

“Yeah, you may have a point there.” They replied, yawning as they started to feel the exhaustion get to them. “Can you believe they thought I was dating Kalim at first?” They commented lightly, suddenly feeling Jamil’s body stiffen.

“…They did?” He questioned, a frown on his face, receiving a quiet ‘Mhm’ as an answer. “…I think it would be okay if we started to be less discreet.”

“It wouldn’t make you uncomfortable?”

“Well, holding hands wouldn’t be so bad, right.” The Scarabia student replied, trying to sound nonchalantly. “Besides, it would keep your friends away from incorrect and wrong suppositions.”

“It’s fine by me.” The Prefect mumbled, once again yawning. “But we should sleep already, I’m tired.”

“Goodnight then, my love.”

“Goodnight dear.”

⤿

“Prefeeeeect, we’ve brought you cat!”

“Leave me on the ground! I can walk by myself!”

“You went to the kitchen at 4 am and Riddle caught you, I’m not leaving you until (Y/n) gets you back. I’m getting collared if I don’t!”

“The great Grim was just hungry!”

“Ace, the Prefect is probably sleeping, I don’t think they’ll open the door at this hour.” Deuce mumbled, ignoring Grim's complaints.

“Fine, let’s just leave him in their room.”

The three of them opened the door to the dorm, the interior still cold due to how early it was, the ghosts nowhere to be found yet, even as they made their way through the stairs.

“(Y/n), sorry to bother you, Riddle sent us to drop Grim by and- Ace, isn’t that Jamil?!”

“What are you saying, why would he be here at this hour- Wow, yeah that’s him!”

The duo didn’t even bother to keep their voices low, causing (Y/n) to stir up due to the sudden noise, making them sit down on the bed a few seconds later to look for the source of such scandal.

“Ace…? Deuce…? What are you doing here...” They mumbled, interrupting themselves with a yawn. “What happened to your sleepover?”

“That’s not the point right now, what’s Jamil doing here?!”

“Well, he-“

“My love, what’s with all the noise…?” This time was the vicehousewarden who woke up, tiredly sitting on the bed, until he realized they had company. A company that now was looking at him like he grew two heads.

“Did he just call the Prefect…?”

“Yes, he did.”

“It’s too early for this nonsense.” Jamil mumbled, feeling his cheeks heating up, as he sighed to mask his embarrassment.

“I literally told you two I was dating him like a week ago. Now, I won’t receive Grim before 11 am, so leave my dorm before I call Riddle.” (Y/n) ordered, plopping themselves in the bed to go back to sleep.

“But Riddle said he’d collar us if we didn’t-“

“Not my problem, out of my dorm.”

“But-“

“If you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell Floyd you were the one who ate his snack yesterday.” This time was Jamil who spoke, already annoyed.

“Yeaaah, let’s go Deuce.”

The vicehousewarden sighed once again, coming back to the position he was in as soon as the Heartslabyul students left.

“I’m never speaking to them again.” He mumbled against the Prefect’s hair.

“Why? Because they saw you all soft when waking up?” They teased, chuckling quietly.

“No, because they have no sense of decent hours to wake someone up.”

“Hey, look at the bright side, we don’t have to convince them now.”

“Yeah, whatever, now go back to sleep.”

(Y/n) smiled tenderly, wrapping their arms around the figure of the vicehousewarden.

“As you wish, my love.”

⤿

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oneshot #disney twst #twst x you #twisted wonderland jamil #twst oneshot #jamil viper x reader #twst jamil #lynnie's post

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berberriescorner · 11 months ago

Text

“Are You Listening?”

Interlude: “Drinks On Me, Yeah?”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Issa Interlude, mama. Expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, and drinking-little libation for the one, two.

Word Count: 1,700+.

A/N: My lovelies! My babies! Mama’s back and I got a little sum-sum for ya! Let’s start this weekend with a little Rio and the crew, yeah? Yeah. I want to give so many thanks to all of you sweet lovelies who have been rocking with me this entire time. Most of you know that the past year and a half has been quite the struggle. To everybody who took time out of your day to come and check in on me, please know that I’m appreciative and forever grateful to have connected with such amazing people🥹♥️. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks as well💓. I’m a little rusty, so be gentle with your girl. Enjoy my sweet babies. Before anyone asks, yes, I’ve been working on Pt. 4😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Part Three Here.

Inspired By:

Your body pressed down into the plush mattress as you reveled in the comfort and security of being home. Your mind replayed the image of your mom snatching the door open, the two of you hugging tightly, rocking side to side. You had spent the past week trying to survive final exams and warding off the many questions of, “What’s wrong, baby girl?” The woman who gave you life knew you all too well. Sensing that her youngest baby was struggling, her attempts to get you to open up over the phone went unanswered. With the semester complete, being home didn’t leave much space to dodge the knowing gaze in her eyes.

That master’s degree will probably be a waste of time.

The moment you pulled away from the hug, she cupped your chin, and your poker face cracked as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. Two hours later, you filled her in on everything from the stress of school, financial aid, working doubles, and the fresh crack in your heart that was taking its sweet-ass time to heal. All of which had only taken about forty minutes to stutter out. The talk and her comfort had left you wiped out, and just like any amazing mother would do, she sent you to your room for a nap and got to work on preparing comfort food.

You considered dozing off for a bit more rest, but your bedroom door flew open, bouncing off the corner of your vanity. Your eyes narrowed to mere slits as you started to curse your oldest brother out. His hand raising halted the verbal reprimand.

“Alena’s big-headed ass is here to see ya mean ass,” he snarked about the woman who would eventually become his wife.

These two bitches are so in love. It’s sickening. The attraction is so annoyingly obvious. Shit makes me sick to my stomach.

Before you could tell him you didn’t want company, she was already in the doorframe. “Uh-uh, bitch you are not about to dodge me for another two weeks.” With those words said, you had no choice but to give her a rundown of what had transpired. Not only had she forced you to divulge every last detail while the two of you hugged and cried together. She also took it upon herself to wiggle you into your best freakum dress and head out for a girl’s night.

Being the baby and the only girl in your family made for very over-the-top protective parents. The moment your father saw your attire, he wouldn’t let up. He was hell-bent on forcing your brothers to chaperone.

It wasn’t a horrible idea. Only you didn’t like your independence challenged. Luckily, the older siblings were pretty chill, so long as no one was overly aggressive. They had taught you how to handle shit for yourself at a young age. You spent the first half hour in the club pouting and ready to go home to wallow in self-misery.

“Hoe! If you don’t fix your face, scaring off every good-looking man in this club!”

“They’ll be alright, so long as they keep their distance. In case you didn’t get the memo after our long talk. Men make my ass itch,” you growled, kissing your teeth.

“Whateva, you and that stank attitude can have a good time together,” she sassed, throwing up a hand and walking away from the bar.”

“Where are you going? Alena!”

“I’ll be back, damn! Let me go on and annoy them, fine-ass brothers of yours. Be nice, and don’t bite nobody head off, sourpuss.”

“Always thirsting after my blood, just triflin’.”

With the flick of a middle finger, she sauntered over to their section. You could see the irritation rolling off them as she seated herself in the middle. The arguing started seconds later. Your eye twitched at the sight. Swinging the barstool back toward the liquor, you were about to pass the time scrolling through social media. Instead, a set of bronzed-colored, muscular digits came into view. They gently pressed your phone to the bar as the matching digits slid another lemon drop into view. Your eyes danced along those muscular fingers, trailing upward until they landed on one of the sexiest faces you’d ever witnessed. If any other man would’ve done this, he would’ve been set straight expeditiously. In this instance, ole boy was just too damn fine, and it left you on mute. The corners of his mouth lifted into a handsome smirk.

The stranger turned his barstool to get closer. One hand rested on the bar while the other cradled the back of your seat. His eyes roamed over your body, lip tucking between his teeth, matching you stare for stare. He chuckled when he noticed your quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to intrude on ya evening, but I figured you could use another drink.”

“Is that so?”

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. I’m tryin’ to figure out why these men got your fine ass itching out here.”

Shit, he heard that? Floor, open up and swallow me. That’s so damn embarrassing.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mama. There’s a lot of boys running around here pretending to be men. Who was crazy enough to fumble you? He gotta be the dumbest man on earth.”

As if on cue, said fumbler’s name popped up on your caller ID. With a swipe of a finger, the phone went silent. You turned back to your new admirer. He had signaled for another round of drinks.

“Either you’re a big spender, or the bartender is your connect,” you teased.

“Connect is one way of putting it. This my spot, darlin’.”

He chuckled as you damn near choked on your drink.

“I’m sorry. Tend to put my foot in my mouth.”

“You good. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind. Dealing with me, you go to say it with your chest.”

“Oh, so you plan to be around me beyond tonight?”

“Around, underneath, on top. We locked in, mama,” he insisted, licking his lips.

“I don’t even know your name, fool,” you cackled at his cockiness.

“Name’s Rio, but you can call me Christopher, mama. My future wife needs to know my government name. I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t be tellin’ my business, sweetheart.”

“Who says I’m checking for you, Rio?”

“You accepted my company and drinks. Deep down, you’re intrigued by me. Ain’t no need to hide it. When I see something I want, gotta go after it, mama.” he rasped, voice lowering to a panty-dropping level.

“You’re trouble. I just know it.”

Rio planted both hands on your thighs. The gasp that escaped you lit his brown orbs with passion.

“Can I have your undivided attention for the night? Want to get to know you better, mama.”

Grabbing his outstretched hand, he helped you down off the stool.

“Rio…”

Piercing light flickered in the darkness, pulling you from the memory that played itself in your dreams. Your hand snatched the vibrating phone from the table. Your orbs squinted to read the screen, teeth clenching in frustration.

Fucking Rio, I can’t even get away from him in my sleep. Stupid-handsome-asshole.

With a single tap, the phone rested on DND. You closed off from the world to find a peaceful slumber, only to wake from another dream. Throwing the covers back, you startled, feeling the bed dip. His cologne wafted through the air, and your eyes connected.

“Why all the tossing and turning, amor? Hmm,” he rasped, hand trailing up your arm. His warm palm cradled the side of your neck, rubbing away some of the tension.

“Sorry, did my restlessness wake you?”

“No, querida. I’ve been up taking care of some things.”

“Same old Miguel. Everything business. Still don’t sleep much, huh?”

His eyes crinkled with a small smile, but you could also see sadness. It’s the same unhappiness that’s always lingered, only now accompanied by sparks of anger and resentment. Your mind replayed his words in the elevator.

Where’s your wife, Miguel?

She had other plans tonight.

The slightest mention of her had nearly sent his mood spiraling. You weren’t privy to what was happening in his marriage but didn’t want to pry. He would only reverse card uno your ass. Miguel would insist that you vent about your own life and frustrations.

“Thank you for taking the couch,” you nibbled at your lip.

There was a hint of frustration and guilt lingering in your chest. Not being able to sleep without dreaming of Rio left you feeling conflicted. Part of you wanted to say to hell with loyalty. Being in such a vulnerable state had you craving to be held and cuddled, but regardless of circumstance, the two of you were very much married. Concern swam in the pools of his eyes. Miguel sensed the ongoing dilemma in your head, and his fingers gently cupped your chin.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s all this,” he asked, tugging the lip between your teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t,” you sighed.

“You can, and you will. Look at me,” he insisted as your eyes locked.

“Anything you ask me. It won’t leave this room. You need me to hold you until sleep takes over, amor?”

Unable to verbally say it, you gave him a slight head nod. Removing his tie, watch, and shoes, he made it over to the opposite side of the bed. Miguel got right to it, not giving you time to overthink it. He pulled you into his chest, arms engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Were you having nightmares, cariño?”

“No, just happy memories reminding me of the present painful ones,” you replied, voice filling with unshed tears.

“You want to talk about it?”

Silence filled the room as Miguel continued, “We don’t have to ta-.”

His sentence cut short as he felt the tremors and your head burrowed into his side. Miguel’s heart cracked at the sound of the sobs falling from your lips. His arms pulled you further into him until there was no space left, and the palm of his hand rubbed at your head.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’m here,” he cooed, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head.

Miguel continued to whisper calming words. You cried until your head pounded, and sleep took over.

Hope you all enjoyed that little peek into how Rio pulled up on your girl for the first time. He saw something he liked, and he had to have you🥰. We’ll just call this a vague moment of insight into upcoming events...if that makes sense 😆. If you enjoyed please be sure to hit the love button, comment, and reblog. Spread the love, my babies.

Divider: @firefly-graphics

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