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minisugakoobies · 7 months ago

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It's You - Choi San | 3 AM

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF’s Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: sneaking around, sloppy making out, lots of cuddling and kissing, honestly this is super soft, drunk San is a whole different type of menace, a little angst on OC's part, pet names deployed as weapons (baby) Word Count: 2.1k Disclaimers: SFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend’s little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That’s it. How did this happen?

A/N: This started with talking about drunk San with @minttangerines and @kiestrokes, and then @moni-logues made me miss this couple, so boom! New vignette! I should warn you that I wrote this over the course of 2 days, entirely between the hours of midnight and 5 am because I've been staying up wayyyy too late to watch the Coachella livestreams (can we talk about Chellateez?! because holy shit!), so it's probably a mess and it's unbeta'd, so… blame any typos or incoherency on my fucked up sleep schedule! 🥱

Lyrics are from "Moondance" by Van Morrison, inspired by that one toktoq of San singing that song, which absolutely killed me.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It’s You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

It’s three in the morning, and you’re wide awake, at your desk, working frantically on an article whose deadline is mere hours away. For not the first time tonight, you curse your natural inclination towards procrastination and scrub your hand down your face, wishing you’d chosen a different career.

There’s some noise outside your door and you realize San must be home. He’d been down at the Blue Bird with Hongjoong, drinking and hanging out with Wooyoung as he bartended. From the way San’s shuffling around, it sounds like Woo had been his typical kind self and given San more generous pours than he should have. A loud “oof” resonates, and you hear the armchair scrape the floor a bit, as if he were setting it back in its place. You wince, hoping he didn’t wake his sister, who has an early shift and needs to be up at dawn.

“Noona. Nooooooona.” Tap tap tappity tap. “Are you up? I can see - I can see your light.”

San raps on your door, calling out to you in a voice that’s hushed but maybe not quite as quiet as he thinks it is. From his spot on your bed, Nero lifts his head off his paws at the sound, then blinks at you with his bright green eyes.

“I know. He’s loud as fuck, isn’t he?” With a cluck of your tongue, you quickly hop up and open the door. San must’ve been leaning against it, because suddenly you’ve got a mountain on top of you, a loose-limbed one at that, eagerly but clumsily wrapping its arms around you. “San!”

“Hiiiii,” San coos into your shoulder, where he’s buried his face. You shudder slightly as his breath tickles your skin exposed by the tank top you wear, and stagger away from the door enough to close it quietly as you can, not an easy task to do given the giant mass of man hanging his dead weight on you.

“You know, your sister is sleeping just on the other side of this wall,” you remind him, but he doesn’t respond, too busy lathering the column of your neck with tiny kisses. “San. Come on, sit down.”

With some stumbling from San and a not insignificant effort on your part, the two of you make it over to your bed. Your attempt at coaxing San into a sitting position fails miserably as he promptly splays on his back, pulling you on top of him. Nero hops off the bed in a huff.

You go down like a sack of flour, not a gram of gracefulness in your fall, but San appears not to notice when your chin bounces off his sternum or your knee rams his thigh. He sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around your back, tucking you against him.

“Mmmm. So nice,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

It’s three in the morning, and you need to finish this damn article. Except that right now, your body is telling you that what you really need is to stay exactly where you are. Because the minute the warmth of San’s embrace surrounded you, your stress melted away. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms you, makes your own breathing slow. You close your eyes, nestling closer to him, sliding your own arms around his waist. You could so easily fall asleep like this.

But he can’t sleep here.

“San. San, are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” he replies, but with closed eyes, which doesn’t really give you a lot of confidence in his response. “I am,” he insists when you shake him, rolling his head away, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warn him sternly. “I mean it!”

San smiles, the one that tells you that he knows you’re going to give in to him, which is the smile you tend to see him flash the most often, because you’re weak for him and always giving in. But this isn’t one of those times when you can indulge him. No matter how much you want to.

“Wish you’d come to the bar tonight. Wanted you there.”

You knew that. He’d told you as much when he’d texted earlier. Unfortunately, you had to turn him down for the sake of remaining gainfully employed. He’d tried to convince you otherwise at first but finally said he understood. And then sent you a series of sad selfies, each one more pathetic than the last, lips puffing to an extreme. Because he understands the power that pout holds over you.

It’s embarrassing how bad you’re down for this man.

San’s fingers dance idly down your spine, and you sigh, eyes slipping shut again as you speak. “Believe me, I would’ve rather been there with you.”

He hums, fingertips quickening their light minuet. He mumbles something into your hair, low and unintelligible from the way his lips are smushed against your head, so it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s not talking, he’s singing.

“... marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…”

“San,” you begin, but before you can warn him not to get any louder, he does so anyway, raising his beautiful voice a little, starting to get into it.

“A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies…”

“Shhh!” Your shushing is cut short by your giggling, as you clap a hand over San’s mouth. “Oh my god, now is not the time for this!”

This is one of San’s more notable habits - when a song gets stuck in his head, you’ll hear him singing it for days, just walking around the apartment humming the melody or, if he has an audience, belting out the lines. He knows how much you love his sweet tenor. Another fact about you he’s filed away to devastate you with at the most opportune times.

Like when you need to kick him out of your bed.

He continues singing despite your hand pressing on his lips, slurring the words directly into your palm. His eyebrows are working overtime, top half of his face playfully conveying whatever lyrics are being smothered against your skin. He’s so ridiculous, so over-the-top, even at three in the morning when anyone else would be exhausted, like you felt before he walked into your room, since his energy is infectious and perked you up better than the multiple cups of coffee you downed in your desperate attempt to stay awake. That’s San for you - he’s always giving you something when you need it - his time, his help, his energy.

So you decide to give him something back, and replace your hand with your mouth, drawing him into a tender kiss, imbuing it with all those things you feel but never say. His muffled singing becomes a hum becomes a moan, at first surprised, then pleased. One of his hands drops to your thigh and with a bit of urgent tugging, he maneuvers you on top of him, chest pressed to chest.

His kissing is only the slightest bit sloppier when he’s been drinking, wetter from his tongue caressing yours with somewhat less skill than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You like seeing this side of him, looser with his inhibitions, with whatever holds him in place - or holds him back. One day you’ll ask him to show you more, when you’re both sober.

And when things are different. Less… ambiguous between the two of you.

If you reach that point.

“Noona.” San whispers, thankfully pulling you from the heavier thoughts threatening to sink you right out of the moment. You open your eyes to look at him as he pecks your cheeks. “I like kissing you.”

You grin, letting your forehead knock against his. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” The look he gives you would melt the hardest of hearts. This is why you’re not afraid to be needy with San. There’s no reason to be, not when he’s just the same.

“I like kissing you too,” you declare, kissing the tip of his nose, laughing at the way his eyes cross as he follows your lips. “But now’s not the time for that, either.”

“Then what time is it?”

Laughing, you gently guide him into a sitting position, keeping your arms looped over his shoulders. His lust is morphing into sleepiness, eyelids drooping as he gazes at you, and your heart goes so soft at the sight of him.

“It’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Okay,” he chirps, immediately flopping onto his back again.

“Ohhhh no, not here. You gotta go. I still have to finish my work, and you…” The words stick in your throat. You can’t be here. You don’t want to say them. You want him to be here. Tonight, and tomorrow, and on and on.

But that’s a conversation for another time. Not three in the morning.

“You have to go,” you groan, sliding off the bed and grabbing his arms, less gentle and more insistent this time. “Come on, get up!”

San lets out a whine of protest. “But baby, why can’t I stay here?”

Oh, he would drop a ‘baby’ now, slipping it in so casually, so naturally, like there’s nothing unusual about him calling you that. As if it’s not something new he only started doing the other day, happening maybe a handful of times since.

Since the two of you have been doing this undefined thing, there’s really only been one unspoken rule. You sleep in your bed, and he sleeps on the couch. Even on the nights when Haneul’s working the late shift, or she’s over at Jongho’s. You never know if she’ll come home early, so you don’t risk it. It’s just easier this way.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though.

“Because. If Haneul catches you coming out of here - “

The sound of a door opening makes you freeze right down to your tongue, leaving your sentence unfinished. Your head swivels towards your own door. A pair of feet pad down the hall, getting closer, then fading away, until you hear another door being closed. The bathroom.

“Noona.”

You turn to find a sober-looking San staring at you. He reaches out, hands settling on your hips, holding on to you as you stand between his legs. Clinging again.

“She’s in early today, right?”

The two of you probably know Haneul’s schedule better than she does. You nod.

“Then I’ll just stay in here. She’ll think I never came home.”

He makes it sound so simple. So reasonable. He’ll stay here until she leaves. Why didn’t you think of that? Is it because you don’t like thinking of San with someone else, even if said person is an imaginary person who exists solely to provide an excuse that will allow you to get what you want? And if you get what you want now, it’s only going to hurt more when you can’t have it anymore?

Yeah, that’s probably it.

“I don’t know…” you bite your lip.

“Come on,” he wheedles, drawing you into his lap again, cupping your face with both hands. “Let me stay with you. Don’t you want me?”

And there it goes, the last remaining bit of your resistance.

“Okay.”

San seems a little shocked, face lighting up in delight, and you wonder if it’s at how quickly you agreed, or that you agreed at all. Maybe both.

“But we have to be quiet. So, you know…” You trail off, gesturing wordlessly.

“No moondancing?” He emphasizes the word heavily, lifting a brow, and you roll your eyes but grin as well.

“Right, none of that.”

“Just cuddles?”

As if he needs to ask. You nod. “But I’m not coming to bed until I finish my work.” You reclaim your seat at your desk, folding your arms over the back of it, trying to give the appearance of someone with a solid backbone, since yours is apparently made of pudding.

“That’s okay,” San says, already tugging his shirt off, then his pants, until he’s only in his boxer briefs. He peels back your comforter, sliding into the soft sheets, and again the action is so natural, so normal, like he does this every night, that something in your chest constricts. “I’ll just wait for you.”

Your first thought is that you should inform him that he’s going to be waiting a while, but then again, maybe he won’t.

You’re feeling suddenly inspired.

(It’s three in the morning, and you’re falling in love.)

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee @hiefisch

#ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #san x reader #choi san x reader #san fanfic #ateez angst #choi san fanfic #fic: it's you

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 7 months ago

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In A Rut (Monster!Hawks x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Keigo “Hawks” Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: You haven't seen your boss around the office in a while ever since he started feeling "under the weather", but when you decide to visit him one day to cheer him up with some soup, you realize that this isn't a normal spring cold. Your boss is in heat and you, his good little assistant, are the only one who can help him cure it.

Warnings: Monsterfucking; Monsterfucker!Reader; Mild Power Play; Boss x Assistant; Mild BDSM; MDom/fsub; Marking; Heat Symptoms; Hawks Has a Big ol’ Dick; Deepthroat; Cunnilingus; Sloppy, Rough Sex; Scent Play; Overstimulation; Ownership; Multiple Orgasms; Multiple Creampies; Multiple Positions; Cum Play; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Happy spring, y'all!! 💐💐🌼🌼🌻🌻 Fucking FINALLY winter & the cold is gone! Now that the weather is heating up, I wanted to write something about my favorite birdman suffering from heat. Enjoy! -Jazz

********

You’re worried about Mr. Takami.

Or “Hawks” as he’s told several of his employees, staff, and interns to call him around his agency time and time again. But as his personal assistant for over a year, you take respect and professionalism very seriously.

Hawks is one of the most laidback bosses you’ve had in your professional career. He doesn’t make you fetch coffee unless you’re getting some for yourself, he’s flexible with deadlines, he lets you go home early despite the workload, and has all of his employees take off on Fridays…which he also pays for.

Though it’s a nice change, you also can’t help but be wary of Hawks. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy. He is considerably nice––always greeting you in the mornings; checking up on you in the afternoons; letting you use his office when he isn’t in it, etc.

But he is also extremely cocky. It comes with the territory of being pro hero #2, you suppose, but the way he saunters into the office every Monday through Thursday in his designer clothes and Rolex watch always rubs you the wrong way.

Not to mention he’s a humongous flirt. Your friend calls it being “overly friendly”. She also says he doesn’t flirt with any other woman at his agency like he does you. He always gives you those charming smiles that seem to irk you to no end and puts that flirty lilt in his voice when he speaks to you. Not to mention the constant compliments on your outfits and work that stick with you until the end of your shifts.

Last week on Monday, the last day you saw him, was no different. You were sitting with your friend at your desk that morning, sipping on your iced coffee before the 9 AM meeting. Your friend was giving you the latest gossip on two employees hooking up in the stairwell during lunch last week when you both saw Hawks sauntering into the office.

“Shh, shh!” she hushes you even though you didn’t say anything. She straightened up and smiled at your boss, bowing. “Good morning, Mr. Takami,” she chirps. The blonde, in his navy blue suit and red bottoms, gave you each a smile that lingered on you for too long. “Ladies,” he greets.

You looked away, busying yourself by checking your email. “I’ve got your schedule and plans for today’s meeting for you,” your friend said, passing him a folder. “And your coffee, made by yours truly.” She nudged you, making you narrow your eyes at her.

“Ah, thank you!” Hawks happily sighed. “And I told you before: just call me Hawks. I don’t need all of that ‘Mr’ shit.” His golden eyes then trailed down to you, his stare making you feel uncomfortable in your long-sleeve blouse. “Thank you, Ms. L/N,” he purrs. “See you at the meeting?”

He gave you a wink, a hint at his joking manner, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was always picking on you like this. “I’m required to be there as your assistant so, yes,” you replied, blandly so.

He didn’t think anything of it. “Good,” he hummed happily. “I’ll need my right hand when I get tired of talking or my coffee doesn’t kick in fast enough. Carry on.”

He gave you a flitting wink before walking off to his office for some time alone. Once gone, your friend fanned herself. “Oh, my God, he’s so fucking fine!” she groaned. You shushed her, hitting her arm. “Come on, his office is right there!” you hissed. “He might hear you!”

“But isn’t he so fine?” your friend went on, ignoring your warning. “You have to admit that he’s fine!” You chose your words carefully, stirring your straw around in your coffee. “He’s…okay,” you weakly replied. “But he’s our boss! Whatever I think of him doesn’t matter.” At least you told yourself that.

The meeting was about new anti-discrimination policies in workplaces and merging with UA High and Indeed to create a special job website for aspiring pro heroes and those with quirks.

You sat across from Hawks and Rumi, his friend and co-owner of the agency, who sipped on her coffee free of cream and sugar. “Took you long enough,” she grumbled to Hawks. “What, you forget to fluff your feathers this mornin’ or somethin’?”

You giggled to yourself at her joke before the meeting started. You met with Principal Nezu who happily bowed in front of the laptop personally set up to meet his eye level. “Good morning, everyone!” he exclaimed. “I appreciate all of you for your time today, including the Indeed associates, and for Hawks for allowing me to take you away from work for a moment. Now, Hawks, if you would like to share your opinion first?”

The pro sat back in his chair, legs crossed and glasses perched on his eyes. You secretly liked it when he wore glasses. “I think it’s a perfect idea,” he said with a shrug. “As I’m sure all of you know, my agency is open to all new talent, whether they graduated from UA or not. We don’t discriminate against anyone with a particular quirk or education. As long as they are willing to learn, respect our rules, and participate in training, we will hire them.”

“But what if the public has concerns about who we hire and whether they will be able to effectively do their jobs with no UA education or license?” one of the Indeed associates asked. Hawks smiled. “I’m glad you asked that.” He nodded at you, smiling warmly. “Y/N, would you mind answering this question? After all, it’s your wonderful brain that came out with such a well-thought-out plan for this.”

Though you flushed at the compliment, you pushed those butterflies away and stood. “This agency is not new to the scrutiny of the public,” you explain, poised and calm. “Hawks and Nezu-san are proposing the opening of a new pro hero license program for those who cannot afford UA or are over the age of 18. This program would include…” You continued just as you rehearsed, not looking at Hawks who looked dead at you, almost as if he was staring through your clothes.

When you finally finished, you sat and Nezu thanked you for your well-spoken words. “What is your opinion on that, Hawks?” he asked. The pro didn’t answer, too busy staring at you. Now his eyes were hooded and looked slightly sharper than they were before. You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat, mostly because of how warm his stare made you.

“Hawks!” Rumi hisses in his ear. The blonde blinked, snapping out of it. “Huh?” he dumbly asked, looking up at the screen. “Are you alright?” Nezu worriedly asked. Everyone was staring at him, including you. He had never acted like this before. “Yeah, just…” He paused, clearing his throat as a flush appeared on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Nezu repeated himself, asking for Hawks’ opinion on the internship program and when he’d prefer to announce it. “It is the spring already, but I believe the summer is when most of my student body will be looking to do internships,” he explained.

You watched as Hawks’ eyes grew wide at the mention of spring, but he did his best to keep it lowkey. But you noticed. “U-Uh, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll do it in April.” You also noticed his body language for the rest of the meeting: his knee bouncing anxiously; his eyes flicking from yours to back at the screen or down at his papers; his cheeks flushed red.

Was he sick? Was it the coffee you made? After the meeting, Rumi confronted him on it, grabbing his elbow. “Hey, what the hell happened in there?” she asked. “You looked like you were about to deck Y/N!”

“I…sorry,” he huffed. “I just…” He paused, seeing you and his eyes roamed over your lower body in your pencil skirt. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he quickly replied before rushing off to his office. You followed him. You don’t know why you did. Maybe you felt obligated to do so as if his assistant. Maybe you just needed to make sure he was okay.

So you knocked on his door, tentatively so. “Come in,” he raggedly said. You opened the door and automatically closed it behind you. Hawks leaned against his desk, his back to you, breathing concerningly hard like he just got off the treadmill.

“Mr. Takami?” you questioned. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you walked farther into his spacious, high-rise office. “Hawks, is everything alright?” Hawks didn’t look at you as he spoke: “Y-Yeah,” he replied, still sounding winded. “What’s up?”

You stood two feet away from him, afraid to get near. You didn’t want to spook him or cross any boundaries. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be writing a ‘thank you’ email on your behalf to Nezu-san and the Indeed associates,” you lied though you were planning on doing that anyway.

But Hawks shook his head. “Don’t bother. You did a good job today, Y/N.” His voice sounded so off. It was usually light and syrupy, but now it sounded deep and raspy. It did things to you.

“Did I do something wrong?” you blurted, confused at his strange behavior. The blonde quickly shook his head, turning slightly towards you. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms and the feather tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. “No, no, of course not!” he protested. “I’m just…not feeling well.”

“Well, you know you can always go home,” you said. “We can hold down the fort here like we always do.” Finally, Hawks turned around and you saw how flushed he looked, his cheeks a rouge hue. He gave a smile that felt too intimate. Too adoring. “Thank you,” he sighed. “That’s so like you. Always so professional. Always so sweet.”

He took a step toward you and instinctively, you took a step back. “M-Mr. Takami?” you weakly asked. He continued to walk to you until you finally stood with your back to the wall, unable to escape him. His cologne clouded your senses, the scent of sweet and spicy invading your nostrils as he stopped in front of you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice breathlessly and soft. “I…” He stopped, raising his hand to touch you. And then he stopped, dropping his hand and using it to cover his mouth instead. “I-I’m sorry,” he muffingly said. “You should go. I don’t wanna get you sick.”

Quickly, he reached beside you with his free hand and opened the door. The sound of chatter, coffee machines, and ringing phones smacked you back to reality. “You should go,” he said, his eyes willing you to do so. So you did and he shut the door in your face, leaving you feeling breathlessly and hot.

That was over a week ago. After the work day, Hawks headed home and sent out a staff meeting the next morning about being out because of a “spring cold”, but he’d be back soon. “Soon” hasn’t come yet. You haven’t heard anything from him in days!

It’s starting to worry you. A spring cold can’t last this long. Is it the flu? Is it something else? Plus, no one can seem to get in contact with him. What if something bad happened to him?

These worrying thoughts swim in your head all week every time you see Hawks’ empty office.

Finally, you reach your breaking point. You’re not going to call, text, or email him. You’re going to be a good assistant and instead, bring him something to let him know that you’re checking on him. Something to make him feel better. So on Friday, you leave work after your shift and stop by your favorite cafe to buy a bowl of their best chicken noodle soup.

You then drive to Hawks’ penthouse on the Upper East side of the city having kept his address to deliver things from work to his house if need be. When you park your car, you walk to the front door and click a button to buzz to his room. At first, nothing happens, so you press it again. Finally, on the third buzz, someone answers.

“Yeah?” a deep, raspy, growly voice barks. It startles you. “Uh…I’m sorry, do I have the wrong room?” you ask. “I’m looking for Keigo Takami.” The other end of the line pauses and you think that they left. “Y/N?” they ask, sounding shocked. “Why are you here?”

You blink at the speaker, shocked that this is your boss talking to you. Why does he sound like that? Is he that hoarse? “I came to give you some soup,” you say, suddenly shy. “I haven’t heard from you in days, so I bought this just to let up your spirits. That must be some cold.”

You wait for a response, but when he never gives it to you, you begin to feel stupid. This was a mistake. “Well, I’m gonna go now, but I’ll give it to your doorman so he can–”

“Don’t,” Hawks interrupts though he still sounds strained. “Come up.” You scowl in confusion, wondering if you misheard that, but then his doorman is meeting you at the front door to guide you to the elevator up to Hawks’ penthouse with the soup.

You take the elevator up, your heart pounding and your hands shaking slightly as they hold the soup. You almost explode from your nerves when you finally make it upstairs and the doors open, revealing Hawks’ beautiful, luxurious, and empty penthouse with an included gameroom, private gym, balcony, pool, mini bar, and expensive-looking kitchen. But he is nowhere to be found.

You walk further into the living room, your heels clicking across the hardwood floor. “Hawks?” you call. You don’t get any answer right away. The home is uncomfortably silent, making you feel paranoid. “Hawks!” you call again, louder this time. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs!” he rasps from the staircase leading to the upper floor. “Don’t come up here!” He sounds so pained. In such agony. You place the soup on the counter, confused and worried. What’s going on? Why does he sound like he’s in trouble?

Not listening at all to your boss’ warning, you slowly head up the steps, taking each tentative step further up in your heels. The hallway is dark when you finally make it upstairs, the only door open being the one at the end of the hallway. It is cracked and through it, you hear the sound of your boss’ soft pants and grunts of pain. Hawks’ bedroom.

Though something inside of you is telling you to turn around, you persevere and walk towards the bedroom. Slowly, you push the door open, revealing a dark masterbedroom with drawn curtains blocking out the outside world. “Hawks?” you tentatively question. “It’s just me. I just came to–”

“Go away!” he bellows from inside. “I told you not to come up here!” You jump, startled by the volume of his voice. He’s never yelled at you in such a way. You poke your head inside and gasp at the absolute mess of his bedroom: furniture askew; clothes and empty water bottles discarded on the floor; a rumbled mess of red sheets on the bed.

The smell in the air is thick with sweat and something else. Something tropical. Coconut oil? You look towards the king-sized bed where a heap sits hunched under the sheets which move up and down as it pants heavily. You thought it was just a pile of clothes at first, but no. There’s something under there.

“Hawks?” you question, your voice wavering in fear. The strange heap stirs, reacting to your voice. It breathes raggedly, almost as if it can’t get enough air in its lungs. “Hawks, what’s going on?” you demand. “Tell me. I want to help you.”

But he turns away, the sheets shifting as he does. “You can’t,” he whines. “You can’t.” Not being able to take how he sounds anymore, you storm over to the bed and snatch the sheets off of him. There, under the covers, you see your boss with your own two eyes. “H-Hawks?” you whisper. “Is that you?”

You almost can’t believe it. He has gotten much bigger in the past couple of days since you’ve last seen him, his muscles almost bulging. His pecs are ridiculously big, his nipples hard and perky, and veins protrude from his forearms and hands. Speaking of hands, they barely resemble human hands anymore. Red feathers sprout from his skin and long, sharp talons have grown out of his fingernails like knives.

When he looks at you, his face is flushed and his eyes are nothing more than red slits, those warm, golden irises gone. But all of those things aren’t even the most shocking to you. You are more shocked by the size of his wings. They have doubled in size, nearly taking up the entirety of the bed, and are red as the purest blood. His feathers shake and ruffle as if someone has run their fingers through them, disturbing their peace.

He looks shocked to see you and then embarrassed. “I didn’t want you comin’ up here,” he pants. “Didn’t want you seein’ me like…this.” He shifts and sits up so the sheet falls off of him, revealing his naked body to you. He is flushed and coated in sweat all over his tan skin and toned muscles. Your eyes trail down his abs and V-line to his cock which is way too obvious to look away from.

He is big and throbbing, the head a blush red and dripping in precum. One mouth-watering, angry vein trails from his shaft up to the head of his cock that twitches. Hawks winces, not looking like he is enjoying this at all. In fact, he looks like he’s in complete agony. You can’t be embarrassed or mortified by this when he looks so awful. “W-What happened to you?” you softly gasp.

He covers his throbbing dick with the sheet, but it’s no use. You can still see it protruding from underneath it, creating an obvious tent. “I’m in heat,” he sighs. “It’s what us mammals go through around this time. A spring thing.”

He wipes the sweat off of his forehead, his blonde hair soaked in it. “That’s why I’ve been hiding,” he explains. “I’ve been here tryna get through this, but I just…can’t!”

He grabs at his hair, running his hands through it. Now you understand it: his absence; the transformation; the smell of coconut oil in the air. You feel yourself blush, feeling hot in your clothes. All of this because he’s horny?

“How long does it last?” you curiously ask, but you’re not even sure you want to know. Hawks sighs, looking doomed. “Either a day or months depending on if my heat is satisfied.”

“Months?” you gasp. “Are you in pain?”

Hawks’ face screws up, triggering something in your core. “Terrible, baby,” he groans, wrapping a hand around his cock, his talons long enough to curl around the entire thing...and he’s at least 12 inches. “I can’t even sleep. I’ve been up for days, sweatin’ through my sheets and tryin’ to cum as many times as I can.” He releases himself and looks down at his hands, clenching them. “But my hands don’t do it for me anymore and I broke my fuckin’ toy.”

He nods at the fleshlight you didn’t even notice lying near his nightstand, completely broken in half. He completely tore that pussy out the frame, you realize in shock. What the fuck could he do to a real one? “O-Oh,” you exhale.

“Yeah,” he sighs, running his hand down his sweaty face. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N, really. I didn’t want anyone seein’ me like this.” He looks away from you, appearing so utterly humiliated and ashamed that it pains you. You find yourself not liking him like this: so utterly downtrodden and hopeless. “What can I do?” you blurt.

He faces you, his slitted eyes widening. “What?” he gasps. “What do you–”

“I wanna help you, Hawks,” you cut in, already taking off your cardigan to reveal your pretty, pink blouse underneath that you paired with a skirt. “What can I do to help you get through this?”

He watches you, looking completely stunned and mortified, but his cock also twitches at the sight of your outfit. “No, no, baby, no,” he protests. “Y-You can’t…you don’t need to do this.” But you stand firm on your decision, refusing to leave him like this. “I know I don’t need to,” you firmly respond. “I want to. Just look at you! I can’t let you go on like this.”

Hawks still doesn’t move, but his cock begins to leak pre for you, dripping down his thick thighs and onto the mattress. The sight is so lewd but so arousing, making your pussy throb indeciently in your panties. You shouldn’t be doing this. There are so many consequences you could face from this…but you also find that you don’t care right now. “Let me help you, Hawks,” you whisper. “Just tell me what I need to do to help you. I’m your assistant, after all.”

A fire explodes behind Hawks’ eyes, lit with lust and need. A low growl leaves his chest and you find that he has fangs in his mouth. The sight scares and thrills you. “You wanna help me?” he asks in his low, deep voice. “Then take off your clothes.”

You swallow hard, feeling like you just dry-swallowed a gigantic pill. You start with your blouse, your painted fingernails teasing the buttons before you begin to pop them open one by one. You expose your lacy bra to him, one of your favorites because of how it makes your breasts look: pretty, juicy, and appetizing with the lace trim of the cups adorning them.

You peel off the blouse and let it fall to your feet. Hawks barely notices it, too busy staring dead at your chest. He slowly begins to pump his cock with his hand, lewd, wet sounds of his pre and coconut oil acting as lubricants drifting to your ears. Under his laser-eyed gaze, you feel like an animal being watched behind a cage. A specimen. It makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, but also hot and bothered to see that you’re affecting him so deeply.

You then move to your skirt and begin to unzip it, but Hawks puts a hand out to stop you. “Slowly, mama,” he raggedly says. “Don’t rush this.” Biting your lip, you slowly drag the zipper down and then slide the skirt off of your waist, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. You go to take off your stockings and heels, but he stops you. “Leave ‘em on,” he demands.

So you stand there, arms at your sides and trembling like a leaf. “Turn around,” he orders, his pink lips parted as he continues to fuck his hand nice and slow. You listen and turn, exposing your ass to him. “Ah, shit,” he hisses, soft pants leaving his lips. “I knew you had a nice ass.”

You bite your lip, feeling your pussy flutter and throb impatiently. “Sit on the bed and bend over for me,” he orders. “I’m not gonna touch you. I just wanna see you rub that pussy for me, okay?”

You turn around, staring down at your shoes. “Yes, sir,” you whisper and flush at your words. They just came out of you, as naturally as breathing.

Hawks shudders, affected by your reply. “Such a good girl,” he sighs dreamily. “I’ll definitely take that over just ‘Hawks’ right now. But ‘Keigo’ works too.” Your face grows hot with a blush, having never referred to him by his first name before. Not wanting to waste his time, you slowly get on the bed and face away from him, your feet tucked under your butt.

Then you bend over for him, your back arched. “Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, softly panting and the move bouncing slightly from his ministrations on himself. “Pull those panties to the side, baby. Let me see you.” Biting your lip so hard that you’re sure to draw blood, you pull the thin strip of cotton covering your sodden, wet, puffy pussy to the side and expose all of you to him.

Hawks shudderingly moans at the sight of the wet strand of your arousal connected from your pussy lips to your panties. “God, mama,” he groans. “You have the prettiest pussy. Look how wet you are!” He growls once more, sounding so much like an animal. “You like what you’re doin’ to me?” You can tell he’s started to stroke himself harder, faster, his pants and heavy breaths becoming more intense. “Keigo,” you softly whimper.

You’ve never been this horny before. Your pussy is about to slide off the bone with how wet it is.

“That’s right, say my name,” he groans. “Play with your pussy, baby. Don’t let me do this alone.”

So you do. You sneak your hand down your ass, teasing him before you begin to rub your cunt for him in time with his strokes. A weak moan leaves your lips as you rub your clit in tiny, firm circles, your ministrations impassioned by the sounds leaving Hawks’ lips. He sounds so desperate. So slutty as he pumps his cock, imagining that he’s doing so to your pretty, little pussy. “So fuckin’ cute,” he says, agonized at your beauty and sexiness. “How the fuck are you this adorable?”

You want to look back and see him, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t want to be watched, so you instead close your eyes and drift away at the sounds of his moans and his lubed cock fucking his hand, making the bed bounce slightly underneath you. You imagine that he’s fucking you like that, his big hands gripping your ass and talons digging into the fleshy part of your ass cheeks. You can almost feel his cock stretching you out, pumping you full again and again as he uses you, doing his best to not break you like he did his fleshlight.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “K-Keigo!” you whine. “Fuck, I’m about to cum!” Hawks groans at your warning, happy to hear this. “Uh-huh,” he pants. “Do it for me, baby. Cum all over those fingers for me.”

And you do. You rub and flick your clit until it can’t take any more stimulation and explodes all over your hand. Your sweet moans of release push Hawks over the edge. “Fuck!” he bellows, his voice bouncing off of the walls as he cums in his hand, shooting warm cum all over his thighs and stomach. Your moans and whines mix with one another, creating a symphony of pleasure as you both cum together.

When the high of your orgasms finally fades, you both sit there for a moment, panting and sitting in the reality of your situation. “I…I’m sorry,” Hawks awkwardly huffs.

You don’t answer, unsure of what to say until you turn around and find that he’s still hard. “Keigo!” you gasp. “Y-You’re still–”

“I know,” he sighs, frustration evident in his handsome face. “Like I said, my hands ain’t doin’ it for me at this point. I need more.”

His slitted eyes, red as crimson blood, narrow at you, a deeper meaning in his words. You gulp, weighing your options but only briefly. You realize you’re thinking more with your pussy than with your head, but the curiosity of feeling Hawks’ wings wrapped around you while he fucks you is too tempting.

“Keigo, it’s okay,” you softly purr, putting a hand on his thigh. He flinches as if your touch burns him. “We can do more if you need it.” You then dip your fingers between your thighs and come back with them dripping in your cum. His cock twitches at the sight, but he doesn’t have to imagine how you taste for too long.

You lean forward and put your fingers to his lips. “Use me,” you say, a plea in your voice. “I’m all yours.”

Right then, something in Hawks snaps the moment he wraps his lips around your fingers and greedily sucks your cum off of them. He is no longer entirely human, his animal instincts taking over. He snatches you up and places you in his lap, emitting a small gasp from you at being yanked up so forcefully. “Just tell me ‘no’ if you want me to stop,” he orders. “And tap my thigh three times if I got my cock in that mouth. Understand me?”

Unable to reply, you wordlessly nod. That’s enough for him. Immediately, he’s on you, pressing a rough yet passionate kiss to your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip and swirling his tongue with yours. His kiss is brutal yet hot; forceful yet careful as he wraps you up in his arms and soft wings. It’s the best kiss you’ve had in your life.

And the sex he gives you by far trumps all of the other bedroom adventures you’ve had. You’re so glad he gave you a non-verbal safety precaution because Hawks takes the “use” thing literally when he finally gets his dick down your throat. He is as big and thick as he looks, your fingers barely being able to wrap around his girty, throbbing shaft.

You have to cover his cock in copious amounts of spit and coconut oil just to make it easier to stroke him, Hawks’ crimson, lustful eyes and soft moans encouraging you. “That’s it, baby bird,” he growls, one clawed hand in your hair. “Take me nice and easy.” Though he allows you to slowly take his cock down your throat, it doesn’t do much to ease the stretch of your jaw.

Unfortunately for you, Hawks’ heat gets the best of him and his impatience rises, making your time to adjust to his size shorter. When he grabs your hair and begins to fuck your face, you have no choice but to take it. He shoves his cock so deep down your throat that your eyes burn with tears and embarrassing, wet gagging sounds leave your mouth as you gurgle around his cock that throbs and pulses in your mouth.

“Thaaat’s my girl,” Hawks grunts, staring down at you throating his dick. “You’re takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird, y’know. You could make this a profession if workin’ as an assistant don’t work out.” He takes his cock out and taps it against your tongue, loving how slutty you look for him with your tongue hanging out and makeup a mess.

“Or you could add this to your duties of bein’ my little assistant,” he hums, smearing his cockhead across your plump lips. “You could fetch my coffee and take this dick over my desk every workday. How would that sound?” He doesn’t allow you to answer as he grabs you again and forces you down onto his cock, groaning at how amazing your wet tongue and soft mouth feel. “God!” he groans. “I hope your pussy is this fuckin’ tight.”

His curiosity gets the best of him. After a few minutes of fucking your throat like it’s a toy, he pulls out with a moan, giving you heart eyes at the image of your messy hair and sloppy mouth dripping in spit. He holds your face in his big hands, his talons gently caressing your cheeks. “On your back,” he orders. You must go too slow for him because he tosses you down onto your backside himself and quickly ducks between your thighs, his big, feathered hands parting them.

“K-Keigo,” you stammer, but that’s all you can get out before he’s cutting the waistband of your panties off with his teeth and sliding his big, fat, wet tongue all over your slit.

All words cease to exist as pleasure washes over you which only builds the more his tongue swirls against your clit and inside of you. Your eyes widen and your hands dig into the skin of his muscular back that flexes as he dips his head low to eat you out. His soft wings caress your skin as they wrap around you, making you feel like you’re being pampered from all ends.

Hawks knows how to run his mouth, but also knows how to work it. His tongue moves magically inside of you, slurping up your juices as his nose and soft lips bump against your clit. You grind your hips up into him, meeting his tongue thrusts while his talons dig into the fleshy parts of your ass.

You can’t keep quiet, too enveloped in the ecstasy you’re feeling. “God, yes, Keigo!” you whine, bucking your hips up. “That feels so fuckin’ good! Keep going, please, ooooh, shit!”

Hawks gladly takes all of those lovely sounds, moaning into your cunt. He is a rapid, ravenous animal, slurping up your pussy like he’s yearning for it. “So good,” he whines into your clit. “So fuckin’ good.”

Your orgasm comes rather quickly, that knot in your core threatening to snap as he continues to work his tongue in and out of you. “Fuck, Kei!” you sob. “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum! Please let me cum, sir please!”

“Mmm-hmm,” Keigo hums, sucking gently on your pussy lips. “Do it for me, baby bird. Cum all over my fucking face.” He goes back to eating you out, moving his tongue against that little spot up and inside of you that makes you see stars. “Do it,” he growls in his deep, gravelly voice. “Fuckin’ cum for me. Give it to me now!”

A scream erupts from you–”Oh, shit!”–as you explode all over Hawks’ tongue. He moans in release with you as he slurps and laps you up, drinking in all that give him while you buck and writhe under his hands. Even when the orgasm high fades, he doesn’t stop. He continues to eat you out even as your pussy and body twitches. “O-Okay, Hawks,” you stammer. “Please, ah, please stop. I-I can’t…oh, my God!”

Tears prick your eyes as the agonizing pleasure continues, swallowing you whole. His crimson eyes stare up into yours between your thighs, loving how desperate and pathetically horny you look as you writhe against his tongue. But as good as you taste, he needs to know how you feel. So he hikes himself up on top of you, his big body covering your smaller one, and his wings creating a curtain around you.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, baby,” he pants. “I need to fuck you now and when I do, I ain’t gonna be nice. I need to cum as many times as it takes to ease this heat and that could be hours. You sure you’re okay with that?” Despite his obvious need, he is holding back, his cock throbbing against your thigh.

Knowing that, you nod and press a kiss to his lips. “Yes, Keigo,” you purr. “I want this too.” You give him a smile, pretty and seductive. “So fuck me.”

The pro doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts by fucking you on your back, your knees tucked up into your chest. You’re happy for the lubricant and orgasm because it is a stretch. His cock stretches your pussy out in a way it didn’t do to your jaw, making your mouth go slack and your eyes widen. “Relax, mama,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your face while he rubs your clit. “You’re doin’ so well takin’ me.”

After a few minutes of adjusting and slow strokes, Hawks feels you relax around him and finally begins to pound you like he needs to. He fucks you into the mattress that shakes and bounces beneath you, making your tits bounce in time with his thrusts. Each pump of his thick cock sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body as your soft, spongy pussy walls stretch and mold into his shape.

“O-Oh, my God!” you cry, grasping his shoulders as he takes you straight to poundtown. “Fuck, Keigo, yes, baby! Fuck me just like that!”

The winged pro grips your thighs and pins them down to the bed, giving you a stretch that yoga couldn’t even do. “Just like that?” he teasingly asks, smirking down at you. “Look at you takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird. Bet you couldn’t wait for your boss to fuck you, huh?”

You whine in response, earning a tongue shoved in your mouth as Hawks gives you a wet French kiss while he pounds into you. He nuzzles his nose into your neck next, covering himself in your scent and you in his.

You’re so deep in the pleasure that you don’t even realize that Hawks’ feathers, sharpened to the touch, cut off your bra until you feel the cool air on your nipples and then pleasure as he stimulates them with his feathers.

When he begins to get closer, his crimson eyes glow red and the black rimming his eyes grows sharper like a hawk’s. You feel scared yet aroused at the same time, your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Gonna fill you up. Want you to fuckin’ cum with me too!”

“Fuck, Hawks!” you whine, tossing your head back against the pillow. Your second orgasm erupts and sends you on a trip while Keigo fucks you like he’s trying to hit a home run. When he cums, he does so with an animalistic grunt and grips your hips so hard that they bruise. He tosses his blonde hair back, every muscle in his body tense from the pleasure. You gasp as he fills you up with his cum, feeling warmth flooding inside of you. It feels good to be full, you realize.

But even when the orgasm fades and he has successfully filled you up, Hawks looks down at you with an increased level of need and lust that shakes you. “I ain’t done with you yet,” he growls.

And he’s not. He fucks you in every single position imaginable. He fucks you doggy style, his cock pumping into you again and again while he yanks on your hair and dirty talks in your ear.

“You my little slut?” he pants, his hand grabbing and smacking your ass. “You love gettin’ fucked by me? You love this number 2 pro hero dick, don’t you, baby?” You can only whine in response, words and logical thoughts completely gone as he turns your pussy into mush.

He fucks you on your side, his big body spooning yours and red wings wrapped around you as his throbbing cock drives inside of you. In this position, it’s easier to rub your clit and tilt your head back to kiss him, the two of you sharing breath as you hotly pant and moan into each other’s mouths.

He fucks you with your head hanging off the bed and your leg pinned up to get a better angle at your G-spot and to drive himself deeper into you.

He fucks you in mating press, his feet on the bed as he mounts you and drives himself inside of you like he’s trying hard to breed you.

He fucks you in full nelson.

In prone bone, his hands massaging your ass.

While standing up, you bouncing like a cute little fuck bunny in his arms on his dick.

From the bottom while you ride him, both from the front and the back, his hands groping your bouncing tits and jiggling ass.

“Mine,” he growls to you in every position known to bed that he puts you in. “You’re fuckin’ mine, baby bird. Only mine.”

And in every single position, he makes you and himself cum. He seems to always know how to trigger your orgasm so you cum again and again. He then uses your tight walls to chase his orgasms, cumming inside of you and filling up over and over again. He makes you sweat out your hair and your makeup, making you look like the sexiest Goddess to him as you take his cock like it’s your job.

By the time he finally finishes, hours have passed and you are spent. Your body aches. You are wet with sweat and cum. Your pussy twitches and is sloppy with his and your cum mixed together, all of it dripping down your thighs and through the crack of your ass.

Hawks, finally back to his normal self, lies down next to you and snuggles you into his chest. “Thank you for doin’ that,” he sighs, pecking you on the forehead. “You did so, so well for me, honey. I hope a dinner date can make up for that workout.”

You only mewl tiredly in response, but you wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. He chuckles, the sound pleasant to your ear pressed against his heart. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighs.

And then you sleep, satisfied and comfortable finally.

THE END.

#hawks x black reader #hawks x black!reader #hawks smut #keigo aka my husband #keigo takami x black reader #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #bnha smut #black writers #keigo takami #tw monsterfucking

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bucketsofmonsters · 2 years ago

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The Witch's Apprentice - Part 3

cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, voyeurism, masturbation, vaginal fingering, size difference, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

“It’s two days, I’ll be fine.”

It became clear after the thirtieth attempt to reassure her that your promises were doing nothing to settle her nerves but you refused to stop trying.

She was supposed to have left an hour ago but instead she’d been wandering around, checking that everything was in place over and over again. There was only so many times someone could check their warding before it became clear they were stalling.

She pointed accusationally in your direction as she lifted a rug to check once more that the carving underneath remained intact. “I need you to swear to me that you won’t try and pull anything. Just keep everything clean and stay out of trouble, okay?”

You nodded. “Promise.”

She left you with one final rule that you knew you’d be breaking. “Don’t be stupid.”

You stared out the window as she left, chin perched on the windowsill as you patiently waited.

She quickly exitted your line of sight, engulfed by the woods. When she did, you started counting.

one. two. three.

The wind blew through the leaves outside, the trees beckoning you forwards. They’d started to turn, shifting to bright reds and oranges. It suited them, like the bright colors poisonous animals had plastered across their backs.

one hundred. one hundred and one. one hundred and two.

You made sure to wait a beat between each number, refusing to accidentally speed through your counting. You wouldn’t get overeager. You wouldn’t blow this chance.

nine hundred ninety nine. one thousand.

You sprung up, your self imposed deadline complete. A thousand seconds and no sign of Eden turning back or losing faith in you. Whenever she turned back, she did it quickly, quick-witted and self assured even in her about-facing.

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting to summon your new second-favorite conversation partner with the frantic look you knew was in your eye right now.

Deep breaths. You’d done this before, you would be just fine.

You spoke the words slowly, with intention. Most of the waiting had already gone by, you could wait a few minutes more to make everything went right.

Finally, your patience paid off and Lucien appeared before you once more.

“Why didn’t you tell my witch about me summoning you,” you asked, skipping the formalities and rushing through your question, eager to reach the conclusion of the little script you’d been working over and over in your head.

“I thought she wasn’t your witch?”

You’d known he was going to dodge that question, you knew him well enough to figure that out by now. It was more of a primer than anything, establishing the subject of questioning.

“Are we friends?” It sounded a bit desperate but for the life of you you couldn’t figure out another way to phrase it.

“No.”

“Oh. Then why?”

“Friends don’t imprison each other in summoning circles.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to get your line of questioning back on track. “No, not why aren’t we friends, why didn’t you tell her? I can’t think of any other reason than you not wanting me to get in trouble and stop summoning you.”

“Then you lack imagination. Why aren’t you whispering?”

“What?”

“You always whisper, even when she’s out,” he noted. “You’re not whispering anymore.”

“I just got excited.” Your tone was too defensive to be convincing, not that it would have mattered anyways. He had a knack for figuring you out regardless of how hard you tried to hide things.

“Maybe. Do you know what I think? I think she’s left you alone and it’s made you braver.”

“You’re good at reading people.”

“Only when they’re easy to read,” he said offhandedly and you bristled at the comment. “So that’s it, is it? The cat’s away?”

“She doesn't mind, it's just a summoning.”

He tisked at you and you knew he didn’t believe you. “Keep lying to me and maybe I won’t cover for you next time.”

Maybe that was a hint for why he hadn’t told her. “If you’re trying to threaten me it won’t work,” you informed him. “Tell her if you want, you won’t be able to make me do anything.”

He appraised you and the confidence you were doing your best to put on. “I suppose we’ll see about that. Sweet of you to keep dragging me here and letting me try.”

That mocking tone was becoming ever so familiar to you.

“I just-” Your words were cut off by a bang coming from outside the house.

Your head jerked towards the door, where the echoing noise sounded like it had come from, and Lucien chuckled behind you.

“Maybe you aren’t as alone as you thought you were.”

The demon’s teasing was immediately forgotten in favor of desperately trying to figure out what was going on. It had sounded like it came from behind the front door but it was far louder than any knocking you could imagine. It almost sounded like someone was barrelling into it.

The air was very still as you waited, staring the door down as if maybe if you looked hard enough you’d be able to see whatever was on the other side.

You’d half convinced yourself you’d imagined it when it happened again, the sound of someone slamming into the door echoing throughout the room.

Noone was supposed to be able to see this place at all, the warding kept anyone other than you and your witch from percieving it, let alone getting near enough to bang on the door. This wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be happening.

Surely Eden had protected you against this, right? She would never have left you vulnerable, You’d watched her check every single piece of warding in the house, you were safe.

The pounding at the door told a different story.

You should dismiss Lucien. He was a loose canon in a dangerous situation, having him around could only be a liability.

And yet you just stood there, frozen.

No dismissing the demon, no moving towards the door, just standing absolutely still.

At the sound of the next crash, you shrunk closer to the summoning circle without thinking, Lucien’s snickering getting louder as you pulled back and towards him, panic running through you.

Lucien was doing exactly what you’d expected, he was taking advantage of the situation.

You hadn’t even realized he’d begun talking, too focused on the pounding on the door. “I wonder who’s out there? You’re running out of options, better think fast.”

Your eyes darted around, looking as if there was anything in this room that you didn’t already know about, know exactly how it worked and where it lay. Nothing in here could help you. Maybe it could help Eden, or someone with some real power, but not you.

He was right, you were running out of options. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have any.

It was a stupid idea. Of course it was. But you liked your chances better with your demon than with whatever was out there.

You dragged your foot across the floor, through the summoning circle, breaking the continuous lines Eden had so painstakingly drawn.

For a moment he did nothing, staring down at you incredulously, completely unmoving.

The inaction didn’t last long. His arm shot out and yanked you towards him, wrapping around you as you were pulled into his chest protectively. You couldn’t see anything, your vision shielded by his embrace.

The banging stopped.

The first thing you noticed when you pulled away wasn’t the sudden change in setting.

The first thing you noticed was that you were hungry. No, not hungry, maybe you were tired? Or maybe you were lonely. You needed something, that much you were certain of. You were tired of waiting.

“How’s it hitting you?” He was looking down at you and only then did you realize you were still wrapped up in his arms.

“What?”

“Hell. How’s it feel?”

Is that what this was? It didn’t feel like eternal torment or burning fires, it just felt like want.

He let go of you and you pulled away, stumbling backwards. A hand grasped your arm, stopping you from tumbling to the ground.

He propped you up, gently leaning you against the wall so you could support yourself, hovering next to you to make sure you wouldn’t collapse again.

“There you go, easy does it.”

He left you to catch your breath and sort through the flurry of sensations and you leaned against the wall, catching your breath as you took in your surroundings.

Hell was cozier than you ever could have imagined. There were soft pillows and blankets scattered across the floor and you wanted nothing more than to curl up on one and fall asleep forever.

Everything was bright and colorful, the floors and walls covered in deep, rich shades. It was an assault on your senses. You were practically certain that Lucien was the only thing in the room that came in a shade of gray.

The colors were muted only by the lighting. It was dark, with an ambient glow like it was coming from candles but there were none in sight. Every time you tried to trace the glow it led nowhere, just drifting through the air as it pleased. It wasn’t dark enough that you couldn’t see properly but just dim enough that it made the room feel even cozier.

The wall you were leaning against was draped in a tapestry covered in the depiction of a bright, setting sun. You were close enough that you could see every stitch, your head leaning against a bright orange.

“What… why am I here?” you managed, not sure you had anything but questions in you right now.

“Didn’t have anywhere else to take you. I didn’t think you’d actually free me.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Do you want a tour?” he asked casually, like you weren’t experiencing the most confusing torrent of sensations that had even filled you.

You stared up at him incredulously.

He rolled his eyes at your furrowed brow. “Don’t worry so much. Besides, if you faint the pillows will break your fall.”

Against all odds, that was mildly reassuring. No matter what happened, it did seem practically impossible to hurt yourself on anything in here.

He hovered above you as you started to walk, making sure you wouldn’t immediately collapse. You managed to walk just fine, although every bone in your body was begging for you to just lie down right now and go to sleep.

It was a quiet, small space, completely empty except for the two of you.

“Where’s everyone else?” you asked, your voice instinctively hushed so as not to disturb the peace.

“They’re all out there, this place is mine. I would stay in here if I were you, other demons might be less nice to a strange little human invading their space.”

It probably should have registered sooner that this was his home. You weren’t sure where else you thought he’d taken you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You aren’t. Just stay put, okay?”

Amidst the sea of soft things was a little table covered in food. Not just any food, it appeared to be exclusively sweets, dozens and dozens of them.

He presented it to you. “This is where I usually take humans,” he said. “You tend to respond well to it.”

You didn’t even reply, your instincts taking over as you sat by the table and immediately grabbed some chocolate, nothing more important to you than eating in that moment.

He stood across from you, just watching. “I’m shocked sloth didn’t get to you first, you really looked like you were nodding off there.”

You looked up from your food. “What?”

“You were staring at the pillows and you seemed like you might take a nap. This place, it encourages you to act on your desires. It isn’t strictly limited to the sins but those are the most common things you humans deprive yourselves of so they tend to pop up here. Most people get angry or self-absorbed or horny or fall asleep, you seemed like the sleepy kind.”

You half absorbed his explanation. At the very least it drew your attention away from the food and onto him.

“You’re really pretty, have I told you that?” you asked as you stared up at him.

“Maybe I was wrong, maybe you’re stopping by lust first.”

“No, not in a lust way, just in a look at you way. You seemed very convinced I’d be scared of you but like, you’re super pretty. Isn’t that a thing, demons being pretty? Lucifer was gorgeous from what I can remember, that’s part of the deal isn’t it.”

“I’m not pretty, I’m scary.”

“You’re not scary, you’re just big. Big and gray and also pretty. And your teeth! They're so big and sharp, I think about them more than I probably should.”

“Alright you need to get some rest, you’re getting a bit too honest.”

He couldn’t stop you fast enough. “Do you know who else is pretty?”

He jumped in immediately. “Don’t say her name.”

You giggled. “Right, you’re not supposed to know that. Sweet of you to warn me. My sweet demon. I think I’m growing on you. She’s gorgeous though, have you seen her? And she’s incredible and smart and talented. She’s literally perfect, have you noticed that?”

“Not how I would describe her,” he spat, his resentment clear in his tone. “Don’t you feel a little bitter towards her? I’ve seen how she treats you. Or at least jealous of how much better at magic she is than you are.”

You shook your head adamantly. “No, of course she’s better at it than me, she’s perfect. Weren’t you listening? Perfect perfect witch.”

Lucien groaned. “Alright, I don’t know if I can stomach this much longer. You should try and sleep this off, you’ll adjust faster if you just give into it for a bit.”

You fell backwards onto one of the many pillows strewn about, giggling as you went down.

You managed to catch Lucien rolling his eyes playfully between fits of giggles before you were being swept across the floor, the pillow you were laying on being dragged over to Lucien in the corner.

Being moved across the floor didn’t bother you. You snuggled into the red pillow as Lucien haphazardly tossed a blanket on top of you. The way it fell, it was just draped across your midsection but you were warm enough already that you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

As he moved to stand, you grabbed at him, trying to keep him with you. You knew you couldn’t actually hold him there but your sleep addled brain insisted you try.

“You should stay,” you said.

“It could’ve been anger,” he bemoaned. “That would have been so much easier to deal with. Why couldn’t you just get angry?”

Despite his protests he didn’t pull away, settling down next to you as your grip remained firm on his arm.

It only took a heartbeat to fall asleep, it overtaking you the second you gave yourself permission to drift off and fall into a restful, dreamless sleep

The first thing you felt when your mind left its fuzzy, exhausted state was embarrassment as your ramblings from the day before came flooding back to you. It wasn’t the most dignified you’d ever been but you supposed there were worse things you could have done than go on a compliment rampage. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself to cull the tides of the self-consciousness.

He was right, the sensations had settled down, or at least you’d gotten more used to them. They were still there, bubbling under the surface, making everything feel a little easier, but you felt like you could think properly. Like you were yourself again.

As your eyes cracked open you saw the same room you’d fallen asleep in. “I’m still here,” you muttered, the observation shattering the thought in the back of your head that perhaps this had all been an elaborate dream. You noticed Lucien looking down at you from beside you, your hand resting on his arm. “You’re still here,” you noted, somehow more surprised by him remaining next to you than by you still being tucked away in his little corner of hell.

He tactfully ignored your second observation. “You’re stuck here until I get summoned again. I can’t go back to your little cabin otherwise, your witch’s warding made sure of that.”

You pulled your hand away from him but that didn’t stop his unblinking gaze. It almost felt like he was dissecting you.

You stared back. He looked more lively here, his face brighter than it was in your world. He wasn’t on edge like he was when you usually saw him. This was his turf, it was your turn to be anxious and defensive.

And yet you just weren’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to be, it felt too safe here for that.

“You’re harmless,” he muttered. “I can’t believe you’re really harmless.”

“I’m not harmless,” you responded playfully, wanting desperately to break the tension. “I’m so scary, the opposite of harmless.” You scrunched up your nose and barred your teeth in the closest approximation to scariness you were capable of.

All he could do was laugh and watch as your thoughts drifted from your newfound scariness back to your supposed harmlessness.

“What would the opposite of harmless even be?” You asked. “I’m… what, harmful? No, that's not right.”

Despite the lengthy nap, your brain still felt a little slow, trying to quietly convince you to drift right back off to sleep on the soft, plush pillows. It would be so easy, it was so warm in here, and it smelled nice too. Just a few more minutes and then you’d be well rested. That was all you needed.

“Hell’s nice,” you noted as the room tried to lull you back to sleep. “It isn’t supposed to be nice, is it?”

“It’s not supposed to be anything, it just is. You shouldn’t be here anyways, it wasn’t made for you.”

“Then why did you take me here?”

“I told you, I didn’t have anywhere else to take you.”

“You could’ve left me,” you noted astutely.

“It’s be a shame to lose a perfectly good ally”

That didn’t sound right. “So I'm your ally now?”

”It’s starting to seem like it”

“Well thank you. For saving me. You really didn’t have to. I could be dead right now. Or worse than dead, and now I’m safe and warm and remarkably comfortable.”

“It was my turn to be a good host anyways.”

You nodded solemnly. “Mmhmm, turntables and all that.”

“You’re really just sleepy, aren’t you?”

“Don’t say that like it’s weird. It’s not my fault you’ve built a house that’s basically just a big bed, I can’t help it.”

“Go back to sleep then.”

“No!” you insisted. “You’re actually answering my questions, I can’t stop now.”

“What more questions could you possibly have?”

“Plenty. For starters, why didn’t you let me say her name?” There were decidedly more poignant questions you could have asked but right now, that was the thing that made the least sense to you.

“Okay, we’re done here.” He turned to leave, it apparently being a bridge too far for him.

“No, please don’t go, you were giving me so many answers! Please tell me,” you pleaded with him

“Just think of it as a thank you for opening up my summoning circle.”

“Was you saving me not my thank you?”

The question was genuine but he seemed stricken by it anyways. He looked down, avoiding your gaze.

“Listen, I need to head out for a bit. I meant what I said, you need to stay put, okay? Just take another nap or something.”

“Eventually, I will stop being tired,” you countered, knowing you couldn’t just keep taking naps forever.

“One would think, and yet here you are.”

Your yawn did anything but help your argument. He seemed to take that as his cue to depart, leaving you behind with no one left to protest to and instead opting to just take one more nap.

Apparently you’d been correct, eventually your body did stop prioritizing sleep in favor of other wants.

Thoughts you’d been pushing down started to tug at the corners of your mind, demanding your attention. Your thoughts drifted where they shouldn’t. To Eden, her soft hands and sharp words. To Lucien’s teeth and his broad frame and shockingly sweet demeanor for a demon that she’s freed from the prison she’d put him in.

It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up with thoughts like this but they were harder to push away here. You longed for your body to just beg for sleep again, that was a desire it was much easier to deliver on.

No matter how hard you tried your mind continued to wander. Tossing and turning on the pillows did nothing to stop the desire that was bubbling up to the surface.

Eventually it became too much to bear. Lucien was gone, it wasn’t like you’d be bothering anyone.

Your hand snaked down under the waistband of your pants. Your amplified desire meant you were already soaking wet before you’d laid a finger on yourself.

You knew it was the lust doing it, that normally you’d just force the thoughts away and pretend you’d never had an untoward thought about either of the only two people you cared about.

The lust of this place didn’t come accompanied with the guilt that you were used to.

Letting go felt good. It had been building up for too long, it needed a release and your body was determined to find one.

Your fingers slipped inside easily. The two fingers curled up but they did nothing other than frustrate you. Your walls clenched and you wanted more, you wanted them.

It smelled like him in here. It had been so hard to place earlier, just filling you with comfort, but now you couldn’t notice anything else.

“Someone’s been busy.”

You practically jumped out of your skin as the sound of Lucien’s voice filled the room. You pulled your hand away from yourself, wedging your legs together in a desperate attempt to cling to some of your dignity.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”

He shook his head dismissively. “Don’t let me stop you.”

You hesitantly let your legs fall open once more, not wanting to let go of the feelings that had overtaken you.

He broke eye contact with you as you did. “I’ll leave you to tire yourself out.”

You whined out, “No, stay. Please”

He halted his retreat, remaining propped up in the doorway, his eyes refusing to wander from yours. Part of you couldn’t help but wish he’d look away, that there was something else he might want to see from you right now.

You’d expected more smugness from him. Normally it radiated from him anytime you showed any signs of vulnerability and right now, you were more vulnerable than you’d even been.

But there were no traces left of it on him, replaced by curiosity and interest and something that you just couldn’t place.

“Who are you thinking about?” he pressed, breaking the silence. “It’s not like you have many options.”

Any sense that would normally make you keep your mouth shut had long since abandoned you. “Both of you.”

“Both of us? Greedy. Your eyes might be bigger than your stomach, little one.”

Your fingers weren’t enough. You wanted more, wanted to be filled, wanted him.

You whined out again.

“Why are you complaining?” he asked, some of that incessant smugness returning. “I’m doing what you asked, I’m staying.”

You both knew what you wanted but he was going to make you say it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed with him for it.

“Ask nicely,” he goaded.

“Please touch me.”

He didn’t make you ask twice, sinking down to your side and gently moving your hand away.

The anticipation was burning through you as his hand rested on your stomach, slowly drifting down as if he wanted to let you get accustomed to his touch first.

His hand drifted even further down, his thumb caressing the inside of your clothed thigh as he stared down at you. Your breath caught in your throat as he finally touched you, his hand slipping into your pants and meeting the wetness that was seeping out of you.

He slowly thrust one finger inside of you and you already felt filled, more than your fingers could ever fill you. The rough palm of his hand rubbed against your clit as his finger dove deeper inside of you and you bucked up in search of more friction.

You went to move your hand back down instinctually and he pulled it back up immeidately, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head with his unoccupied hand.

“You asked for my help, let me take care of you,” he insisted.

His eyes raked up and down your form as you lay writhing beneath him.

“You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you. You should have freed me sooner, I would’ve been more convincing if I knew this was what you wanted. Just a little nap and for me to fuck you into the ground, is that right?”

A strained, “please” escaped you and he just chuckled.

“Maybe some other time. For right now let’s just focus on you. Come for me, I know you want to.”

His thumb rubbed up and down your pinned wrists, as if trying to soothe you while you pushed your hips up into his hand. It was comforting, giving you something to focus on as he worked you over, his finger curling up while his thumb rubbed over your clit.

Your walls clamped down around his finger as a pressure began to build up in your core. His movements on your clit stayed steady as he thrusted his finger in and out of you.

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you reached your peak. More whines escaped you as your hips pushed up, entirely overwhelmed and yet still pleading for more.

White hot pleasure raced through you, all that tension unwinding with a snap. He remained steady, working you patiently through your orgasm.

It felt like it lasted an eternity, wave after wave of repressed need being released all at once.

You were panting as you came down, your limbs feeling as if they were made of lead. You didn’t think you could stand up even if you needed to.

Lucien pulled out of you as you lay there, recovering. He pulled his middle finger up to his mouth and you watched it, slick with your juices, pass right by his lips. His focus had finally shifted from your form, eyes shut as he tasted you.

He wasn’t putting on a show for you like he normally did, like it was more for his sake than for yours.

This place refused to let you stop wanting and before you knew it you were asking more of him.

“Can you stay?” you asked once more, desperate in an entirely different way and trying not to let it seep into your words quite as much this time.

He complied, lying next to you on top of the soft pillows that you were certain had seen far worse things than this.

You were more aware of how this place affected you now but you still could barely stop yourself from just speaking. That’s all hell really was, it seemed. Not torture and misery but confessions and honestly, real honesty.

“Thank you for staying.”

“You didn’t need to ask, I wouldn’t have left you.”

A little voice in the back of your head swore that couldn’t be true, that he was just saying it for your sake, and you were too tired to counter it. “Oh. Well, thank you anyways.”

“You know what? I didn’t think it was possible to hate your witch any more but after getting to know you I think I’ve managed it. You’re too used to being alone, it isn’t right.”

“You’re too hard on her.”

“You’re not hard enough on her. She’s isolated you completely, you can’t honestly tell me it doesn’t make you angry.”

You weren’t sure why he could seem to understand it, incapable of wrapping his head around your feelings for her when he was so good at reading you in practically every other way. “No. It makes me feel very very alone but it doesn’t make me angry. She does what she has to, I’m lucky I even have her. I don’t think I’d mind it so much if someone actually wanted me.”

“I’m sure you’re wanted.”

“I’m not. I don’t even think E- my witch wants me but at least she lets me stick around and takes care of me.”

He graciously let the near slip of Eden’s name pass by once more, instead opting to focus on what you’d said. “That’s why you keep summoning me.”

“Mmhmm. I told you that, not my fault if you didn’t believe me.”

“The lonely little apprentice. I should give your witch a piece of my mind, it’s inhumane to keep you in these conditions.”

You snorted. “I’m not her pet.”

“I think someone should tell her that.”

Despite the tone of his questions, you couldn’t help but miss her the more you talked about her. “How long do you think I’ll be here?”

He shrugged. “I suppose that just depends on when your witch gets back. Broken summoning circle on the floor, her little apprentice gone, it doesn’t take much to figure out what happened.”

It was a horrifying scene to imagine. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be worried about how upset she would be at you, the image of Eden walking into an empty house with a broken summoning circle on the floor and whatever else had been done to your home was all you could think about.

“What if the people who were trying to break in are still there?” You hadn’t even considered the fact that they might hurt her when she got back. Guilt flooded through you as you thought about how carefree and happy you’d been while she could be in real danger.

You felt his chest raise in a sigh beside you. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

His frustration at your concern for her was understandable but discouraging nonetheless.

He’d started to connect with you but there was nothing you could do about the two of them. Your two favorite people, your two only people, forever at odds.

He gently nudged you out of your thoughts, pulling your chin up to make you look at him. “You can overthink later. Sleep now while you’re here, while it’s easy. Who knows, maybe you won’t sleep for a full day this time.”

“Did I really sleep for that long?” you asked, barely fighting off a yawn.

“You did. It’s alright though, don’t worry, I’ll wake you up if you need to be up.”

You began to drift off, sleep coming quickly to you once more.

You weren’t worried about anything. You believed him.

#terato #demon x reader #demon x human #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster x reader #demon #the witch's apprentice #this was such a fun chapter to write #the calm will not last but I love their little sweet moments

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fishsticksloser · 10 months ago

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hello!! I'm starving for more x male readers 💔💔 I was wondering if I could request leo X male reader? basically the reader is overwhelmed with school. He's usually ambitious with his grades but lately he's been feeling burnout. So leo offers him some cuddles and fluff to relieve the readers stress and i think it would be very cute <33 especially if the reader is touch starved!!

I've Got You

Leo x male!reader

Warnings: stressed reader, comfort, fluff, kisses, post movie

A/N: Could technically be gn!reader. My break starts in 2 days and I'm stressing about completing all the requests I have before then... I'm also gonna lose my mind if someone tells me to rest...

Leo sits in his bed, casually reading a comic when you come in. He looks up, smiling when he sees you come in. His smile falters seeing your tired expression. He sets his comic aside, patting the space next to him. "What's up?" He asks softly as you drop your backpack next to the door.

"College... Work... I've done like nothing else for months." You pout, turning your head to look at him. "I'm so tired..." You walk farther into the room, plopping onto the bed next to him.

Leo glanced over at you, concern etched on his face. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, and it reminded him of the countless sleepless nights he had from his nightmares following the invasion. He sighed heavily, his voice tinged with a mix of empathy and weariness. "I get it, babe. Life can be a real drain sometimes. But you gotta keep pushing through. You're stronger than you think."

He reached over and ruffled your hair gently, a small gesture of affection. "You've been working hard, and I'm proud of you. But remember to take care of yourself too." Leo leaned back against the headboard and pillows. He turned his head to face you fully, his eyes searching yours. "So, tell me, what's been keeping you up at night? College stress? Work deadlines? Or is it something else?"

"Everything... I've been working so hard and I feel like I have nothing to show for it." You sigh, laying your head on his shoulder. "I wish I had a break."

Leo let out a sympathetic sigh, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders in a comforting gesture. The weight of responsibility can be crushing, and he knew firsthand how it could wear down even the strongest of individuals. "I know, amour," Leo murmured softly, his voice filled with understanding. "Sometimes it feels like you're running on empty, like all your efforts aren't making a damn difference. But trust me, it's not about the immediate results. It's about the journey, the growth along the way."

He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, his voice filled with a mixture of reassurance and wisdom. "You're doin' great, even if it doesn't feel like it right now. Take a moment to breathe, to rest, and to remind yourself why you're doing all this in the first place. And hey, if you need a break, I'm here for you. We could use some quality time together, huh?" A playful grin tugged at the corner of Leo's lips as he nudged you lightly. "Maybe we could even plan a little getaway, just the two of us. Somewhere quiet, away from the chaos. How does that sound?"

"That would be nice..." You hum softly, taking one of his hands and tracing his fingers and palm. Leo's heart skipped a beat as you traced your fingers along his hand. He couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection stir within him. The gentle touch and the prospect of spending quality time with you ignited a spark of excitement in his eyes. "Won't be able to that until summer break though..."

"Summer, huh?" Leo mused, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. "Well, I suppose it'll give us something to look forward to, won't it? We can plan something special, make sure it's a break worth waiting for." He shifted slightly, turning his body to face you more directly, his eyes locked onto yours. "But in the meantime, we can still find ways to unwind and enjoy each other's company, right here, right now. What do ya say? How 'bout a little relaxation to take the edge off?" Leo's hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin tenderly. "I can give you a massage, help you ease those tensions away. Or we can just cuddle up and watch a movie together. Whatever you need. I'm here for you."

"Is all of the above an option?" You ask softly, your tone a bit playful, leaning into his touch. You close your eyes, sighing in relief.

A soft chuckle escaped Leo's lips as he gazed at you, his eyes filled with affection. "Sweetheart, you know me, I'm always up for a challenge. All of the above it is."

He shifted on the bed, making room for you to lie down comfortably. With gentle yet firm hands, he began to knead the tension from your shoulders and neck, his touch expertly skilled from years of medical training and self-care. His fingers worked their magic, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the knots and knots of stress that had built up within you.

As he continued the massage, Leo's voice carried a soothing tone, his words laced with care. "Just relax, amour. Let go of all the worries and responsibilities for now. This time is for you, to recharge and find some peace."

With each stroke and caress, Leo's touch conveyed not only a desire to alleviate your physical tension but also a deep-rooted affection. He wanted to show you that you were valued, cherished, and deserving of this moment of respite.

Once he felt the knots begin to loosen, Leo moved to lie beside you on the bed, pulling you gently into his arms. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his body providing a sense of security and warmth. With the TV playing in the background, he held you close, content in the simple act of being together.

As his lips brushed against your forehead, Leo whispered softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're doing amazing. I know it's tough, but you're stronger than you realize. And I'm right here with you, every step of the way."

"I know... I need to learn to lean on others a bit more... But... I'm glad your here. I dunno what I would do without you." You mumble, your fingers tracing over his facial features, especially the red bananas around his eyes.

Leo's eyes softened as he listened to your words, his heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and affection. He understood the struggle of wanting to be self-reliant, to carry the weight of the world on your own shoulders. But he also knew the importance of leaning on others, of allowing them to support you in times of need.

"I'm glad I'm here too, baby," Leo whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "You don't have to do it all alone. We're a team, and that means we're there for each other, no matter what. So lean on me, I've got your back." His hand caressed your cheek, his thumb gently tracing the outline of your lips. His gaze met yours, filled with an unspoken promise. "I'll be by your side, through the highs and lows, the ups and downs. You can always count on me."

Leo's lips met yours in a tender kiss, a mixture of love and reassurance. In that moment, he hoped to convey just how much you meant to him, how deeply he cared for you. Breaking the kiss, Leo leaned his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're important to me, sweetheart. Never forget that."

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tremendouskoalachild · 26 days ago

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Does the Batman Epic Crime Saga (they better come up with a better name fast) chronology make sense? well, no. am i gonna write a rambling tumblr post about it? you know it!

spoilers for The Batman (2022) and the first 4 episodes of The Penguin (2024)

The Batman is set during Bruce's second year as Batman, and takes place over one week: starting at 8 pm on Thursday, October 31, and ending on Wednesday, November 6.

The Batman was originally filmed as though it is set in 2019, and the days of the week in Bruce's journal match that year's calendar. the shooting was put on hold due to the pandemic, and once it resumed the movie's setting was moved to 2021 (some other dates in the film match that year, and it can be extrapolated from graphics shown on screen). The Penguin takes place firmly in 2022, retconning this.

according to his diary, the Riddler got the idea for his grand plan to reveal corruption in Gotham on Friday, July 16 (of that year, meaning 2021, presumably; the day matches the 2021 calendar). that would mean he spent 3.5 months (107 days) planning and setting it all in motion. he likely intended on using the election's date from the start.

The Waynes were killed 20 years prior to Don Mitchell Jr's murder (October 31), to the week, during Thomas' mayoral campaign (this corresponds to 2001, as seen in the Riddler's video).

here we run into my lack of familiarity with DC lore, but i believe the implication is that Mitchell became mayor in 2001, served 4 consecutive 5-year terms (and was up for reelection in 2021), and Maroni was taken down due to Carmine Falcone's information shortly after Mitchell first took office (the timing of the Maroni bust is very tenuous; i'm largely going by the various claims that Falcone has been the top dog for 20 years, and that removing Maroni was what got him there. there is also Annika's confused recollection of Mitchell telling her Falcone was the informant on that case, and that that's how Mitchell became mayor, even though we know the bust happened during his term. however, Oz was supposedly involved, as alluded to by Sal in The Penguin, and he was merely Sofia's driver just 10 years ago, before moving up in Carmine's organization and gaining control of the drops operation, which was already controlled by the Falcones at that time.)

The Penguin starts one week after Carmine Falcone is killed and the flooding starts (on Election day, November 5), so November 12, 2022.

Oz kills Alberto at night, and spends the time until his next shift securing an alibi and hiding the body, with the help of Vic. Oz takes Alberto's phone and looks through his calendar app, which is showing the current day as November 13, noting he has a shipment scheduled for the evening of Monday, November 18 (this day matches the calendar for 2024 and 2019, but definitely not 2021 or 2022).

The next day (November 13, assuming Oz checked the phone after midnight - seems likely, he went in at night, had a long discussion with Alberto, killed him, dragged his body to the car, and "recruited" Vic before this), Oz reunites with Sofia, recently out of Arkham thanks to her father's death. He is told to move the drops operation to Robbinsville by the Falcones within 48 hours, visits his mother's house, as well as Salvatore Maroni in prison, and frames the Maronis for Alberto's murder.

Presumably the next day, November 14, he visits Sal again, planning their heist. Luca Falcone has arrived to take over the family by then. We see the move to Robbinsville being ambushed by Maronis at night, likely 14 to 15 November (i doubt Oz organized the move he didn't want to do the same day he was ordered to do it, while coordinating with the Maronis; i also doubt Viti would let him get away with missing the 2 day deadline without a fuss). Sofia recruits a detective within hours to find the mole.

Alberto's funeral is on the following day, November 15 (not that it's particularly useful, but we know it isn't a Sunday from Francis mistakenly trying to go to Mass. if we accept the Monday is the 18th, then it must be Friday). After the funeral, Luca suggests to Sofia she leave for Italy. That night we see Vic bury Castillo and Ervad, and Sofia team up with Oz.

In the evening of the shipment, so November 18 according to the calendar, Sofia and Oz start putting their plan in motion. Graciela tells Vic she is leaving the next night, November 19. Johnny Viti confronts Sofia, telling her she has two days left in Gotham before either leaving for Italy or being disposed of, and gives her a boarding pass with the date Thursday, November 20, 2022. (in case you're curious, no, November 20 2022 is not a Thursday. more bizarrely, we know it was Monday on the 18th, so November 20 has to be a Wednesday. the last time Nov 22 fell on a Thursday was 2018, before even the original scrapped setting of the movie.) the boarding time is in the evening, so Johnny seems to be counting the next day, November 19, and the day she's supposed to leave, November 20, as her two days.

The next day, November 19, Sofia and Oz go to the Triads to negotiate, then blackmail Johnny to secure an audience and trial run for that night. It goes well but the Maronis arrive, and a dazed Sofia calls Dr Julian Rush for help after Oz abandons her.

She wakes up at his place the next morning, November 20, and mentions she is supposed to be on a plane to Italy by the next day - not that evening, as it says on the ticket her family bought her. Maybe she's confused after her traumatic incident, or is ignoring the ticket and choosing to interpret Johnny's ultimatum differently.

Julian says she has been out of Arkham for only a few weeks (she was exonerated through Alberto and Julian's efforts after Carmine's death, November 5th - 16 days earlier, so it appears that process was quick). She crashes a family dinner that evening, implies she is leaving the next day, and kills everyone in the mansion except for Gia and Johnny Viti during the night. She wakes Johnny up in the morning of November 21, where we end episode 4.

as for the flashbacks:

Vic's takes place in the hours before the flooding starts, not only confirming that it happened in the evening on November 5, but also that it was Tuesday. This date works for either 2019 or 2024, and matches the day of the week from Alberto's phone in episode 1.

Sofia's flashbacks: 10 years prior to The Penguin, in 2012, reporter Summer Gleeson approached Sofia Falcone with information about several women working for Carmine Falcone strangled over the last decade, so roughly 2002-2012. she herself was killed in the same manner shortly after, and the murders got pinned on Sofia. Sofia was arrested on Carmine's birthday, September 5, and she was held responsible for the murders of Summer and 6 other women (presumably the same ones Summer told her about, as her murder was made to look like Sofia trying to shut her up).

from The Batman we know that Maria Kyle was also strangled by Carmine during this period, in 2004:

while we're looking at tombstones, the Falcone family's plaques in The Penguin episode 2 are the source of Carmine's birth date:

Alberto's body is recovered the day after his murder, and the date November 13 is used on his.

some random tidbits about different characters' ages:

Bella Reál is 28 (said on the tv broadcast in the opening of The Batman).

Bruce Wayne is around 30/was around 10 when his parents died (not said in the film but mentioned in interviews).

Edward Nashton's fake ID under the name Patrick Parker has his date of birth listed as 03/30/1985, which would make this persona 36 in 2021. the ID under his real name appears to list 1984, which would make him around 37/17 at the time of the Waynes' murder, or 1994, making him around 27/7 at the time of the murder. the second interpretation is supported by the Riddler: Year One comic miniseries, written by Riddler actor Paul Dano, showing Edward as a little boy meeting Thomas when he announces his mayoral campaign (and appears to fit better with the speech Edward gives in the film).

Annika Kosolov was born on January 1, 1998, making her 23 if the film takes place in 2021. she is also Estonian. neat.

Selina Kyle was 7 when her mother was killed, which happened in 2004 according to Maria's tombstone in The Batman, making Selina around 24 if we use the 2021 setting (25 for the retcon timeline, birth year around 1997 either way).

Sofia Falcone was 9 when her mother was killed, which happened in 1994 according to her plaque in The Penguin, making Sofia around 37 in the show (birth year around 1985), around 27 when she was arrested and taken to Arkham.

edit: we actually do have Sofia's birth date, thank you @thevoidstaresback93! she was born on January 3, 1985, making her 27 at her arrest and 37 in the show.

from the above we also know that Carla Viti was 28 at Sofia's arrest and must be around 38 in the show.

similarly, we know Johnny Viti, which is apparently his legal name, was 43 in the flashback and must be around 53 in the show.

from his plaque we know Alberto was 38 when Oz killed him, and is a year or two older than his sister Sofia.

Carmine Falcone was 65 when the Riddler finally killed him.

his victims were mostly young women whose exact ages we don't know, long dead before the present day events; we only know that Isabella Falcone was killed at 34, and Maria Kyle at around 28.

Victor Aguilar is 17, since his ID shows his date of birth being April 23, 2005. his girlfriend Graciela is probably around the same age, since they go to school together.

revelations from the Riddler video:

Martha Wayne's parents were killed in 1981 (her mother killed her father and then herself), and her father was 36 at that point.

Wayne Enterprises sent the cease and desist to the journalist digging into Martha's family history on February 16, 2000, over a year and a half before the election in October/November 2001. what a dramatic period of time for everyone involved.

one last hilarious thing: this date in the canon comic released in October 2022, in the same year as the film, fits with the 2020 calendar.

#the penguin #the penguin hbo #the penguin spoilers #the batman #the batman 2022

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radiance1 · 1 year ago

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Back on my bullshit with the Eastern Dragon Danny and Phoenix Vlad au:

So basically, Vlad decided to go to sleep for a while, inside a modified coffin built to withstand him and all that. So, he tells Danny a specific time to wake him so that he could resume his duties as Duke.

Why did Vlad decide to take a really long nap? Because he was extremely tired of ghost zone politics and decided to just go fuck it, I need a nap.

The deadline he needed Danny to wake him up at is relatively short in ghost terms really, just about a period of 40 years, he's currently 20, so at the end of this he should just be an even 60. Which would give him plenty of time to finish forty years of work before his rebirth cycle kicked in again.

He gave Danny the key to said coffin, with its specific magical signature and everything. So he expected and trusted that Danny would awaken him within a span of forty years, perhaps a bit earlier if push came to shove.

Then he just went to sleep.

Danny doesn't like his decision to just, up and go sleep for forty years, only because he would have to be the one doing the paperwork but its like, whatever he guessed. Do Danny was now actually handling the paperwork and navigating ghostly politics once more!

Joy...

He was buried in work for a fair amount of time, sometimes literally, and had to kick it back for a bit before going back to work. He felt like he was forgetting something, though...

A key appeared under a stack of papers that he just worked through, a veeeeeeery familiar key that he was sure had some kind of importance based on that itchy feeling in the back of his skull.

Eh, it's probably not important.

Welp, back to work!

Danny worked in silence for a bit, before getting up and slamming his hands on his desk.

OH FUCK, VLAD!

It's been waaaay more than 40 years last he checked, enough time that Vlad must've rebirthed inside his coffin already by like, a lot of times by now.

Considering that 5 millenniums have passed.

Well, shit.

So he hid the key in his hair, shifted, and flew off to Vlad's domain to wake him up. But when he got there, weeeeell, let's just say that Vlad's coffin was. Well.

It was gone.

Now, you see Observants. He had a totally reasonable explanation for this, you know. It was uh, well, you know, he just, ya'know?

He just, kinda, forgot...

He'll get him back! He swears! He just, need to, ya'know, find the guy!

Couldn't be that hard!

Another five millenniums later, he felt like punching his past self for fucking jinxing future him! The Observants were literally breathing down his neck to find the guy, and he didn't want to go back to doing paperwork either!

His salvation came in the form of a summoning, one he answered and finally, finally found the location of Vlad's coffin. He honestly got extremely, he didn't want to face paperwork again, so he asked these group of heroes to help him find this specific coffin in exchange for whatever they wanted him to do.

And he's Ancient damn thankful he did cause oh boy, cause like 2 days later he was presented the coffin that was just sitting collecting dust in some magician guy's house that was apparently passed down throughout generations that the Justice League managed to get their hands on.

So he opened it, and literally had to catch Vlad, who fell out of his coffin and looked like a literal 10-year-old. Did Vlad's temporary retirement plan include his deadline of 40 years being stretched by 9,960 years? No, no it did not, and unlike the previous ghost king, he was not unaffected by the length of his sleep.

So forgive him if he had to relearn how to do basic body functions, his memory foggy, and his powers were a bit outta wack.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp

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bunnist4rz · 2 months ago

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BREAKING THE CYCLE; REGAN RIDLEY

synopsis; Reagan, overwhelmed by her work at Cognito and her need for perfection, begins to push away her partner, who notices her burnout. Despite their attempts to reconnect, Reagan’s obsession with control strains their relationship, culminating in an argument where Reagan lashes out. Realizing her mistake too late, Reagan grapples with guilt and reaches out with an apology. The next day, Reagan visits her partner, expressing vulnerability and admitting her fears of imperfection. Her partner reassures her, emphasizing the importance of emotional openness, and together, they decide to work through their struggles. word count; 1.1k content; regan ridley/reader, f!reader, coworker/coworker, set in canon au, angst to fluff, ambivert/introvert a/n; I'm so sleepy right now it's not even funny but I decided to pump this out at 2 am I'm crying this is insane but um yeah pretty fanfiction for my pretty wife I LOVE HER :333

The familiar buzz of Cognito’s control room filled the air as Reagan typed furiously on her console, the harsh glow of her monitor casting an eerie blue light across her face. She’d been consumed by her work for days—maybe weeks now—managing crises, chasing anomalies, and ensuring the shadow government didn’t fall apart. Deadlines loomed as a new project spiraled out of control, and her perfectionism had trapped her in an unrelenting cycle. The scent of stale coffee and static electricity hung in the air, a constant companion to the suffocating pressure she felt.

Across the room, You sat nursing a cold cup of tea. Your usually upbeat demeanor had dimmed over the past few days as you watched your workaholic girlfriend spiral deeper into her work obsession. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, her smile mechanical, and her laughter—the rare instances of it—lacked the warmth it once held. You recognized the signs all too well: she was burning herself out again. But whenever you tried to intervene, she’d wave you off, muttering her favorite refrain, "Just a few more minutes, doll. I’ve got this."

As You looked out the window, the sudden crash of thunder caught your attention. Rain started to splatter against the tall windows of the underground base, a storm brewing above the surface. It felt symbolic, mirroring the tension that had been building between them. Reagan was always so focused on saving the world, but she couldn’t see that her own well-being was crumbling right in front of her.

You stood from your seat, heart pounding, and made your way toward her desk. "Babe, you’re working too hard. You need to step away for a bit," you said softly, trying not to push too hard. But her eyes didn’t leave the screen.

"I’m fine," Reagan replied, her voice void of its usual snark. "Just a little more to do."

Your shoulders slumped. You could hear the exhaustion woven into her words, feel the distance growing between them. You've tried to be patient, understanding, but it was like talking to a wall. You loved how brilliant she was, how fiercely she fought for what she believed in, but lately, she was fighting alone—and it was hurting you both.

"Reagan," You tried again, this time reaching out to touch her hand. She flinched as if your touch had burned her.

"Not now!" Her voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and cold. Reagan finally looked up at you, and in her gaze, you saw not only frustration but the storm of emotions she had been bottling up. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the soft patter of rain on the glass. You just—stared at her, stunned, and slowly withdrew your hand, stepping back.

Reagan blinked, as if realizing how harshly she’d reacted. "I—I'm sorry," she whispered, but it was too late. Your expression had already shifted, a mixture of hurt and resignation.

"It’s fine," you muttered, but it wasn’t fine, and you both knew it. You turned to leave, feeling the weight of the conversation—or lack of one—settling on your shoulders. You didn’t want to give up on her, but how could you keep reaching out when she refused to let you in?

Reagan watched you leave, her heart sinking as the door hissed shut behind you. She knew she had hurt you. She always knew. But there was this gnawing feeling inside her, an irrational need to stay in control of everything. It wasn’t just the job—it was proving herself to her father, to everyone who had ever doubted her. She felt trapped in this endless loop, unable to stop even when she knew she should. And now, it was costing her the one person who understood her.

The control room felt colder as she gathered her things, stepping out into the rain. The storm aboveground drenched her immediately, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t escape the suffocating guilt that clung to her. It wasn’t the first time her work had come between them, but it was the first time Brett had looked at her with such disappointment.

By the time she reached her apartment, Reagan was soaked, her mind still reeling from the day’s events. She collapsed on the couch, staring at her phone, debating whether or not to call you. What would she even say? That she was sorry? Sorry for pushing you away again?

She left a voicemail instead, her voice trembling. "Look… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just… I don’t know how to stop sometimes." She hung up, staring at the phone, willing it to ring—but it didn’t. The empty silence was all that answered.

Hours passed in a blur. Reagan’s apartment, once a place of comfort, now felt like a prison. She poured herself a drink, but it didn’t ease the ache in her chest. It wasn’t the world-ending crises that kept her awake that night; it was the growing gap between her and the love of her life, a gap she feared might be too wide to cross.

The next morning, Reagan couldn’t take it anymore. She drove to your place, the rain having subsided, leaving the city slick and fresh, but Reagan didn’t feel fresh. She felt like she was on the verge of breaking. When she knocked on your door, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears, each second feeling like an eternity.

When you finally opened the door, your expression was guarded. Your eyes were tired, but there was no anger—only sadness.

"Reagan," you said softly.

"I screwed up," she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I pushed you away, again, and I shouldn’t have. I just… I don’t know how to do this. How to balance everything and still be… us." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated herself for how vulnerable she sounded.

Your expression softened, and you stepped aside, letting her in. "It’s not about you doing everything perfectly," you said as she sat down at your kitchen table. "It’s about you letting me in. We’re a team, Reagan. I care about you, and I just want you to let me help."

Reagan looked down at her hands, wringing them together. "I don’t know how to stop," she admitted. "I’m always so afraid that if I’m not perfect, everything will fall apart."

You reached across the table, gently taking her hands in your own. "You don’t have to be perfect, Reagan. Not with me." Your voice was soft but steady, and it gave her a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in days. "I just need you to be present. To let me in, instead of shutting me out every time things get hard."

Reagan’s eyes welled up, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself feel the weight of her mistakes. "I’m sorry," she whispered. "I’ll try. I’ll try to be better for us."

You gave her a small smile, squeezing her hand gently. "That’s all I ask."

As they sat together in the quiet of your apartment, the storm outside had passed. And though there were still challenges ahead—at Cognito and in their relationship—for the first time, Reagan felt like they could weather them together.

#actually mentally ill #illness mentally #is it wrong i crave her so bad #GGRUESCHUCIBUW #I WANT HER SO BAD FUCCK #reagan ridley #inside job #inside job reagan #reagan x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x reader #inside job x reader #reagan ridley the woman you are #inside job fanfiction

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campbyler · 6 months ago

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hey!!!! i am so excited for the new chapter drop, and i just wanted to offer some insight into why people might have gotten frustrated last time with the delays even tho you owe us nothing lol. i think it was about information rather than the fic itself… so maybe instead of pushing the drop day back by one day (repeatedly if need be), a whole week, or two week, pushback at a time could frustrate people less... then if it's ready sooner than that, it'll be a lovely surprise for everyone who wasn't expecting it for another week or two!! plus you guys would be giving yourself like an extra week to chill and finish it instead of the pressure of just 24hrs, (which is nothing what with real life etc) and you could even have a few days off before dropping it if you DID finish it early, cos no one would be any the wiser!

just an idea, that's what i'd do i think and that's how deadline pushbacks often work at my college so i thought i'd share :) hope that's not presumptuous :) you might already be doing this who knows :)

hello hello we are super excited for it as well!! re: your insight — we totally get why people are annoyed by delays, because it definitely is frustrating to look forward to something and constantly have it delayed, especially a little bit at a time and multiple times in a row, so trust me when i say that we fully understand that and wouldn’t be pushing it back by these increments if we didn’t think it would fully be done by a certain time. the 1 or 2 day delays for ch9.2 in particular were 1. made when there were only about one day’s worth of edits left to be made on 9.2, so it was a very reasonable guess to us, and 2. extremely circumstantial and unexpected. thea was very very close to being done but stuff kept coming up, like her being too physically tired after working her shift (her schedule is all over the place usually) to keep editing which she didn’t think she would be, or getting delayed at work for hours, or the one time we got that one anon about ch9.2, thea had been actually and literally swarmed by thousands of people at her job and simply was not in the mood to hear someone complaining about a chapter being delayed by another day or two. there also is something to be said about how we’ve seen people complain or get annoyed when it’s pushed back by a longer period of time in advance, which we have also done, so it leaves us kind of trapped between a rock and a hard place — do we overestimate and have people complain, or do we try to give them shorter term update goals and still have them complain?

we fully get why it’s frustrating and aren’t pushing it back little by little in order to be difficult, but either way, we just don’t think people should be in our inbox vocalizing those frustrations to us. they can even complain in dms to their friends about it, we don’t care! we appreciate the sentiment and the insight and we do try to give reasonable estimates for delays as much as we can, but honestly we just don’t really want to hear if people are annoyed 🤷🏽‍♀️ it’s not helpful or productive to us in any way and we would just prefer it stay out of our inbox and out of our sight overall

#we appreciate the input and you saying it so kindly and trust me we get why it’s frustrating and we never intend for it to be #but at the same time it’s just a fic and you all are reading and enjoying it while we are also trying to balance writing it with Life so #we frankly deserve a lot of grace i think even if people are annoyed #😗#asks

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asahicore · 2 years ago

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espresso macchiato - sjh

part 1 of the coffee mini-series // prompt 72 of the 100 kisses list, accidentally bumping noses

pairing. coworker!junghwan x fem!reader

synopsis. It’d only been a month since Junghwan had started to work with you at the coffee shop, but your crush on him was already threatening to make itself known. It took a broken espresso machine and a cute accident for you to find out that these feelings might not be one-sided.

genre. winter au, coffee shop au, fluff with a side of fluff and extra fluff, noona!reader (just one-year age gap tho)

word count. 2.2k

a/n. i said two seconds ago that i would post this tomorrow but i already changed my mind. i had so so much fun writing this so i hope you will too while reading! i tried to make it as cute as possible... just cute cute cute... super excited to write the rest of the series. no promises but i'll try to do like a double update next weekend with part 2 of this and part 2 of hey heeseung !! ok i know nobody reads these but as always lmk what u think pls and thank u bye bye <3

winter.

You should’ve known that nothing good could come out of having such a cute coworker as So Junghwan.

The moment he’d stepped into the coffee shop, announcing himself with a big smile as the new barista, you had to keep yourself from freaking out. Somehow, all the ugly things that came with being a barista hadn’t tarnished your dream for a coffee shop romance. No amount of spilled coffee and rude customers could stop you from wishing a handsome guy would stride in and sweep you off your feet.

But now that said handsome guy had finally strode in, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Because it wasn’t enough for the handsome guy to just be handsome, he also had to be charming, and kind, and funny. And tall. Very, very tall. If at first his face alone had been enough to destabilize you, soon, it was his contagious boyish grin, the sound of his laughter, the way his hands worked the machines that made your heart beat faster than it should. You’d even started to like the fact that he called you noona - at first, you chided him for it, arguing that you were barely a year older than him, but he insisted, and you didn’t have a choice but to get used to it.

As with most bad things in your life, you blamed your manager. Got a cold? The manager insisted on turning the heating all the way up this winter, and your body has gone into shock every time you’ve had to go back into the cold outside. Missed a deadline? The manager asked you to take over someone else’s shift that one day you had planned on writing your essay after procrastinating for two weeks. Liked the new barista? The manager made you responsible for his training, because “you’ve been here for so long” (two years) and “you’re one of our best” (ten time employee of the month, thank you very much) and “you have the most overlapping shifts with him, anyway.” No problem, boss. No problem at all, you’d said, and you had meant it, until Junghwan walked right from your dreams and into the coffee shop on a bright morning in early December.

The first few weeks, it was easy to lie to yourself that it was just due to Junghwan being practically perfect that you felt like this - anyone with eyes and an attraction to men would react the same way. Or so you thought, until you talked to your coworker-turned-bestie, Jayoon.

“I don’t know, I think he’s kinda dorky.” Your friend had simply shrugged when you asked her about the newbie. You’d been trying to be as nonchalant as possible, but your interest in him was obvious. But then she’d seen your appalled expression, and tried to backtrack slightly. “I mean, super nice and all, just not my style. He’s all yours,” she’d added with a wink.

You realized you had a proper crush on him when a customer wrote her number on the receipt and left it for him, and the jealousy you felt upon seeing the slight blush that spread across his cheeks was too much to ignore. Something you had noticed about Junghwan after a month of working with him was that he could dish it but not take it. When it came to grabbing something you couldn’t reach from the top shelf for you, telling you your hair looked cute that day, or making a little heart on top of the latte you desperately needed when you worked the opening shift together, he was a pro - but if you so much as called him cute or patted his head, the boy became a stammering and blushing mess, akin to the clueless female lead of a high school romance anime.

Seeing someone else have that effect on him was no fun. You wanted to run after the girl and lecture her about disturbing coffee shop employees when they’re trying to do their job, but you knew you just wished you had as much guts as her to shoot your shot with Junghwan.

“Look, noona, a girl gave me her number,” he said, gloating and holding the small piece of paper for you to see, when a random two p.m. rush had subsided. “She even drew a heart.”

You scoffed, turning away and pretending to be busy rearranging the syrup shelf so he wouldn’t see the glare in your eyes. “You look so happy,” you commented moodily. Great job hiding your crush, Y/N, you thought.

“It is pretty flattering.”

You turned your head to look at him. He’d taken a few steps closer to you and was now resting his back against the counter, palms flat on the surface behind him to hold him up. His smile had gotten even wider, that idiot. You squinted your eyes at him. “So, are you gonna call her? Or text her?”

“No,” he’d answered right away, and the lack of hesitation took you by surprise. “There’s someone else I like.”

The words had already made your breath hitch in your throat - but as if he was intent on killing you, Junghwan started walking right towards you, only stopping when he was towering over your shorter frame. He crumbled the receipt in his hands and threw it in the trash can that you happened to be standing in front of, his eyes never once leaving yours. He beamed down at you, that familiar, puppyish grin that lights up his whole face, and, as if nothing happened, walked to the register to take the order of a customer that had just arrived.

It took at least a full minute for your breathing to return to normal.

Junghwan was a quick learner. He mastered the espresso machine and latte art in record time, remembered recipes to specialty drinks easily, and didn’t panic when someone ordered something he’d never made before. He also wasn’t scared to ask for help, and you’d soon grown used to his questions, tone ranging from simply curious to downright alarmed. Noona, do I add cocoa powder on top of a cappuccino? Noona, what’s the difference between a regular latte and a latte macchiato? Noona, why the hell does this person want their chai to be dirty?!

So when he called out, Noona, I think the machine’s broken, you hadn’t thought anything of it at first. Luckily, it was reaching closing time, and not many people came for a caffeine fix at seven in the evening, so you could easily deal with the machine.

You headed to where Junghwan was crouching, glaring at the espresso machine as if that would magically fix it. You shook your head at him with a chuckle and told him to scooch over. Either in an attempt to tease you, or because he genuinely wanted to know how to repair it, Junghwan followed your every move, very, very closely. He stood and bent over the machine along with you, checked the water and coffee bean levels along with you, made sure the tubes were properly cleaned along with you. But in the end, it was just that the tube that poured the espresso had come somewhat loose, and so the machine beeped in warning every time one tried to make coffee.

“Look, it’s no big deal, just that the tube came loo- Oh!”

Junghwan had been looking at you as you explained the problem, but the two of you were crouching in front of the counter, so close together that when you turned your head to look at him, your noses had bumped into each other. You’d both leaned back in surprise at the same time, eyes widening and heat spreading to both of your faces as you peered at each other, astonished. But then, Junghwan’s face broke into a grin, and a chuckle escaped his lips, then another one. You burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, the fact that you had to keep quiet because of the few remaining customers in the shop making it even harder to stop giggling.

When after a few minutes, you managed to regain your senses, a wave of shyness hit you - even if for just a split second, you had been close enough to Junghwan for your noses to touch, even, perhaps, for your lips to touch. And thinking about kissing Junghwan was not good for your heart.

A silence settled between the two of you, and you were thankful for the music playing softly and the chatter of the customers that filled the otherwise quiet coffee shop. You could barely look at Junghwan anymore and found him quickly averting his gaze as well every time you dared a glance at him, as if the same realization had hit him.

Fifteen minutes later and you could finally close. You and Junghwan said “bye” to the last customers, then started cleaning the store and preparing it for tomorrow’s first shifters in unusual silence - normally, you’d spend an hour joking around, chasing the other with a mop or spraying water on the other’s face, but today, not a peep could be heard from either of you. You didn’t know what to make of it, but at least, it meant you were done half an hour earlier than usual.

Shivering, Junghwan watched as you hurriedly locked the doors to the coffee shop, wanting to put your gloves on as quickly as possible. It was so warm and toasty inside that stepping outside was like being pushed into a bath of ice water. You were about to start walking to the bus stop, as you always did with Junghwan after the closing shift, but he stopped you.

“Noona, your scarf.” He stepped in front of you and reached out to tighten your scarf, even though it was already snug around your neck. Immediately recalling the proximity you’d been in not even an hour earlier, all you could do was look up at him, mouth slightly agape in surprise. When his eyes met yours, a small grin bloomed on his lips. He kept his hands on your scarf, holding gently there.

“What’s wrong with it?” you asked in a quiet voice, looking down at your scarf so Junghwan couldn’t see your flustered reaction - but something prompted you to meet his eyes once more.

His grin got wider and unconsciously, you started smiling too. “Nothing,” he admitted, then finally let go of your scarf, and you released a breath at the same time. You followed as he started walking towards the bus stop, hanging your head low so he couldn’t see the smile on your lips. Just like you, his hands were buried in his coat pockets, but you were itching to reach out and grab one of them. You couldn’t stop wondering what his reaction would be.

Then, he sighed contentedly. When you looked up at him, he was smiling too, looking straight ahead of him. The cold had already bit at his cheeks and nose, staining them bright red, and there were slowly melting snowflakes covering his hair. You thought he’d never looked so handsome. It was almost painful, tearing your gaze away from his face.

“It’s so cold, you can see your breath,” he suddenly said, and you laughed. Not because what he’d said was particularly funny or interesting, but because it was such a relief, hearing his voice after long minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” you simply replied, giggling when your gazes met for a brief moment.

When you reached the bus stop, you sat down on the bench while he stood, tracing figures in the snow with his foot. Your heart swelled ten times its size and you couldn’t stop smiling as he wrote your initial, a plus sign and his initial, then encircled them in a heart. You shook your head at him but it made you unreasonably happy.

“Too cheesy?” he asked, smiling so wide that the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“No, I love it,” you replied, giggling, but you meant it.

He sat down next to you, kicking your shoe with his, and you both giggled at nothing. Too soon, his bus came.

“Noona?” he called out as he stood up, walking towards the bus door. You said nothing but raised your head, waiting for him to go on. “You know how I said there’s someone I like?”

This time, you said nothing because you couldn’t speak. Your heart stopped beating, anticipating his next words. You meekly nodded.

The bus doors opened and he slipped inside, turning back to look at you, that boyish grin you love so much still on his lips.

“It’s you.”

The doors closed and Junghwan headed to a window seat, waving happily at you as the bus took him away, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

When your shock faded, all that was left was happiness. Junghwan’s sudden confession filled you with a warm, honey-like feeling that settled comfortably in your heart, in your bones, everywhere. The cold January air couldn’t cool you down.

You didn’t stop smiling for a second the whole way home, and you’d never been so excited for your next shift.

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 (ask to be removed/added!) © asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

#yg treasure #so junghwan #treasure x reader #junghwan x reader #treasure fluff #junghwan fluff #treasure scenarios #junghwan scenarios #treasure imagines #junghwan imagines #treasure fanfic #junghwan fanfic

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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year ago

Text

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 3 - Canning Town Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 2 Summary: Flirting, Leicester Square station mixtape, flowers and breakdowns in the cantina. Or another chapter of an unlikely liaison. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language and imagery and more outrageous flirting. Author's Notes: Chapter a month might just be the new deal here, apologies. And this one's long, by which I mean over 11k 💁🏻‍♀️ It also seems like now that I've started, I can't stay away from Neil's POV so... yeah. Look out for a cheeky cameo too 😉 Other than that, I can assure you this is just as chaotic and ridiculous as the last chapter. These two are in full control, I'm just a mere scribe, doing my best. Hopefully it works. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Incorporating Neil into your daily (and weekly) life was easy. Almost terrifyingly so if you did as much as stop and think about it. Perhaps the self-preservation rooted deep within forbade you to reflect on it. Which, in hindsight, was a good thing.

After that first victory of obtaining Neil’s number, you did not hold back from texting and bombarding him with daily nonsensical memes that could have driven a different man to madness. Neil, however, took it in his stride. It was rare not to get a reply from him after longer than an hour. And that boosted your courage like nothing else.

Some days, the conversations went like this:

/ 🏹, 12:07 pm/ Show me what socks are you wearing.

/✝️, 12:13 pm/ Jesus, that’s forward.

/ 🏹, 12:14 pm/ That’s basically my second name. So?

/ 🏹, 12:14 pm/ I swear I won’t sell the pic on OF.

/✝️, 12:20 pm/ Well, if you do, then at least share the earnings with me.

Although you started the ridiculous conversation, when the next text came, consisting of a single image of a socked ankle bared by the familiar hand pulling up the pant leg, you nearly dropped the coffee cup in the middle of the Covent Garden. It was just an ordinary Tuesday lunchtime, with the square bustling with sound and movement. Using the rare sunny September day, you escaped the confines of the Royal Opera House to have your coffee break on the kerb. Thanks to the dwindling sense of coherence, you did not drop said coffee when you opened the photo. The socks you had asked for were black with a grey argyle pattern. But that was where the normalcy ended, for the rhombuses were filled with corgi heads. The brown-beige dogs stared at you through the screen with their beady eyes and were the reason for your hysterical laughter.

The overprotective mother tending to her children close by shot you a dirty look. Well, fuck her.

/ 🏹, 12:23 pm/ Neil, you’re too cute. Way too cute.

/✝️, 12:32 pm/ It’s what every guy wants to hear. Thanks, Cupid.

/ 🏹, 12:34 pm/ I never said you’re not hot, though. Which you very much are. So much that I thought of you when…

/✝️, 12:35 pm/ Yeah, don’t finish that sentence. Please.

/✝️, 12:35 pm/ I’d rather maintain my innocence.

/ 🏹, 12:36 pm/ As you wish 😘

That was not a lie. It was a result of yet another tiring day and an early night in bed when it was too early to sleep. So, you chose to fill the time like most women would, letting your thoughts drift to images and scenarios that always did the trick as your hand delved between your thighs. When you realised who you had been thinking of, the tension was so close to bursting that you did not try to shift the attention. When you came, the guilt was nowhere to be found.

After all, it was not a sin to think of pretty boys when taking the edge off. As soon as you realised that Neil did not take the flirty line seriously, that feeling of potentially having done something wrong became non-existent. It was fine. It was all fine.

Other times, especially during those Wednesday mornings on the Tube, your conversations looked more like this:

“I’ve got an invasive question…” changing the subject during your weekly chats was easy, for as soon as you set a weighty gaze on Neil, he sobered up too.

The endless questions did not seem to bother him either. Your boundless curiosity was particularly grateful for that.

“As long as you’re not going to ask me what underwear I’m wearing, I think we’re fine,” the poker face was only disturbed by Neil’s twitching lips, and the sparks danced in his eyes as he inclined his head in your direction, blessing you with the golden strands, “Shoot,”

Every time, you took a deep breath, silently gathering the courage to ask, and then let the question fall from your lips without a pause:

“When was the last time you’ve been in love?” the curiosity was all it was.

Yet still, Neil’s widening eyes made you consider that perhaps something else was underlining that desire to know. And that this question was different than others you had asked. Different from “Dogs or cats?” “Typical coffee order?” and “Any hidden talents?”. But it was too late to take it back.

“Oof, you weren’t joking” Neil seemed to shake it off quickly, only briefly offering you a glare before looking down to find the needed words, “Probably two-ish years ago…?” you were sure you had imagined the broken edge in his voice as Neil swallowed hard and continued “It was a disaster. She didn’t- Let’s just say I went in too hard and too fast, and she got scared. Pretty much ghosted me after a half-assed excuse” when he raised his head and meet your gaze, you could see the depths of hurt in his eyes.

Your heart felt pathetically hollow, but you smothered the feeling to nothing but an uncomfortable sting.

“Ouch,” a wince was easy enough to muster, and you followed it with an apology, “Sorry,” Neil’s crestfallen look was an inspiration for you to place your hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze “I know that it doesn’t help, but it’s her, not you” you knew the light statement was the right way to go when Neil cracked a wry smile and gave your other wrist a tap.

“Thanks,” it was evident enough to realise that Neil was eager to drop the subject. It was clearer still that you were going to be the next target, “I won’t ask you the same since I know better, but… Do you really think no one could change your view on love?” yet when the question fell in the space between you, it was not what you had expected.

The surprise must have painted on your face, for Neil looked a second away from taking it back. You stopped him from doing that the only way you could think of – by extending your hand in what was universally thought of as a ‘hold up’ motion. It was not that you did not want to answer. And it was not the first time someone had asked either.

But it was not something you were keen on inspecting and tearing apart to offer an honest answer. It was a fact, pure and simple. A fact that you would believe in till the day you died. There was no place for love in your life, and there would never be. Full stop.

“Yeah, I do,” you met Neil’s waiting gaze and offered him a weak shrug. The strange disappointment in his gaze made no sense, so you chose to ignore it to shift your attention to the world outside the carriage as it arrived at the next station. The belief in your next words was as tangible as anything else you could conceive, “It would take a miracle”.

He did not ask that question again.

Those Wednesday morning conversations also became a source of information, which you had stowed securely in the compartment of your brain labelled ‘Neil’. After almost two months of acquittance, you knew that he was born and raised a Londoner (from Richmond, the posh fuck [affectionate]), was decidedly a dog person and had a chocolate Labrador growing up (a girl named Daisy), listened to alt-rock and 80s music and was what he described as a hopeless romantic. You still did not know what he did for work, only that he was decidedly not a tattooist, literary agent, paramedic, jockey, art critic, dressmaker, choreographer, or bus driver. Whether he was truly not just a priest undercover was still up for debate.

***

Only when you fled the confines of the ordinary tiny London flat kitchen and felt the night breeze of the city on your skin, left bare from the jacket you did not yet put on, had the question of the ages pop into your head. What the fuck? There was no answer. You shook your head against the memories of what had just conspired and stopped on the pavement to put on and fasten the jacket. Even annoyed, you could still feel the biting cold begin to settle in your bones.

You never expected to bump into Liam. Never in a million years would you have considered that those two friends you shared would extend the invitation to that man out of all people. And you certainly did not expect him to come.

Although, as he had unhelpfully explained himself, he only showed up because of the chance you would be there. The audacity made you shake your head vehemently, without a doubt attracting a glare or two from those who remained sober at this hour. In Soho on Saturday night, that was unlikely.

You walked through the cobbled streets with the neon lights lighting your path without an aim or a map. The only objective was to stomp the frustration into the cracked pavement and end up home. Somehow. Specifics were to be determined later.

Sure, rushing out of your mate’s flat like a lightning bolt could be seen as impulsive. But Liam offered you no choice. The pleasant buzz of alcohol did nothing to stop the embarrassment, which grew worse by the minute. The long walk in an unknown direction was a sad but acceptable consequence. Or so you aimed to maintain.

By the time you had seriously begun to consider using the dwindling phone battery to order an Uber and save you from the penance of someone else’s transgressions, the red circle with a navy blue bar appeared on the horizon. Salvation, at last. You picked up the pace, eager to get out of the cold and that one step closer to home. This close to Leicester Square and the theatres just having closed their doors on the last patrons, the bustle seemed quieter somehow, more subdued. It was a blessing for your budding headache and a threat to the thoughts eager to appear with nothing suppressing them.

You crossed the road and descended the staircase with a sigh. The heat of the station enveloped you like a hug as you passed the ticketing gates and spent an unnecessarily long time staring at the Tube map. When the logic kicked in, at last, you rushed over to the correct platform.

Only to regret it as soon as the timing screen came into view. Heathrow Airport 25 mins. The polite PSA text below informed you the line was experiencing delays. No biggie. They were sorry. The usual shit. A curse litany lodged in your throat as your eyes roamed over the platform.

All the noise in your head faded to nothing when your gaze settled on that familiar blonde head of hair. He was sitting in one of the few chairs with his head bowed over his knees in a position so exemplary for a Saturday night in the glorious London town. You skimmed over his body, taking note of the casual jeans and a t-shirt, peeking from beneath the unbuttoned jacket.

Before you knew it, your legs had started carrying you in his direction, a goofy smile present on your face. The improbability of it happening made everything easier. Because what were the odds?

Instead of counting them, you approached Neil, still so blissfully unaware of your presence and delivered an opening line:

“Hello, Father,” the joke did not yet get old, and you still got the kick out of it.

Especially when Neil raised his head fast enough to give himself a whiplash and gasped from shock.

“Jesus- Oh, what the fuck?” clutching at his heaving chest with all the drama he could muster, Neil offered you a look so full of surprise you knew he did not expect this to happen either.

The only weekend plans you had discussed over texts were that you had a party to go to, and he was likely to go out with his workmates at some point. But that was it. Zero specifics, no need to share them because there was no need for either of you to know the details. And yet.

“Is that how you should greet a lady?” playing on his theatrical reaction, you feign a shocked expression.

It was clear you would fail at any attempts of annoyance. Your cheeks were already aching with that kind of wide, manic grin only Neil seemed to cause. You could see his eyes skim over your figure, taking in your clothes with that sort of precision only he seemed capable of. Finally, satisfied with what he saw, Neil raised his head to meet your gaze again and got up to bow lowly at your feet:

“Apologies, m’lady,” before you knew what he was doing, he took hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles. A move so fast you almost thought you had imagined it if not for the fading sensation of his lips still ghosting your skin, “What are you doing here?” with his hand lightly touching your elbow, Neil steered you towards the seats.

Only now, with the surprises fading into the background, you took note of the empty platform. It was just the two of you sitting on the creaky plastic chairs. You shifted an inch closer to Neil, seeking the warmth radiating off his body and replied:

“As I’ve mentioned, I had an invitation to this flat party in Soho… And I went, but then, and you’ll never believe that happened-” recounting the improbable story felt good, and you took pleasure in the attention Neil gave your every word.

“Let me guess… Liam showed up?” his interjection followed your dramatic pause flawlessly.

Of course, he got it. Of course, he guessed. You shook your head at his eager smile, aware of the glee in your eyes:

“Damn, you’re good” your low approving whistle reverberated in the space. Most shockingly, there was a certain level of joy in sharing the story, even as your skin crawled with the embarrassment of what transpired, “Yeah, and it turns out that getting blocked did not make him smarter. It became a whole thing, along with him getting down on his knees in the middle of a kitchen and proclaiming his undying love to me,” you wondered if Liam was still there, kneeling on the tiled floor and waiting for your return.

Partially, you hoped that was the case.

Throwing you out of the strange ruminations, Neil shook his head and offered you a serious look:

“Blimey,” his tsk almost got lost in the PA announcement, crackling from the speakers. When it ended, Neil met your gaze with a sympathetic smile, “No wonder you ran away,” his knee nudged yours, triggering something you would not understand even in months.

Sitting upright, you nodded fervently:

“I had to” the emotions you did not know were present poured out from your lips as the next words fell in the space between you, “And like- He doesn’t even know me? He never saw me on the stage, and he thinks that making me cum a couple of times is enough?” a frustrated growl tore from your chest as you finished the tirade with a tired sigh and simple punchline, “Bullshit,”

There was no time or willingness to take apart where all that anger came from or why it was suddenly so important Neil understood your reasons. It just was. Later it was easily blamed on the alcohol still present in your veins. For now, you met his gaze and shrugged, answering the questions he seemed too shy to ask.

“With that, I must agree. It’s bullshit” nudging you with his shoulder, Neil smiled, brightening the clouds that still seemed to hang over your mind.

You shot him a brilliant grin, brushing away the concerns with terrifying ease. They had to wait, ideally forever.

“Thanks, babe” sugar coated your smile as you allowed yourself to gaze, taking note of the blush spreading on his cheeks. Although you would never admit it out loud, the blue of his eyes was slowly becoming your favourite shade of the colour. It was that thought that triggered your next confession, “Admittedly, meeting you here is a highlight of the night,” you watched as his eyes grew wider, evidently not expecting to hear something that honest. The moment stretched for what felt like ages until you found the strength to look away, focusing on the timing screen and the issues it posed, “Though, those delays are bullshit, too” your eye-roll elicited an instant laugh, which only added warmth to the kindling sparks in your chest.

“Mhmm,” Neil’s hum acted like an anchor, tying you to reality.

It was a better place to get lost in than the chaos raging in your head. You chose to stick by it, following the easy way out with a simple question:

“How come you’re here?” you turned towards Neil, hoping to block the platform and the world beyond from view.

Even if just figuratively and for a short while. If the answering bright smile was anything to go by, Neil was happy to humour you:

“I’ve been out for drinks at a pub, but then our crowd isn’t very… boisterous, so we all went our separate ways, and here I am,” he signed off the summary with an explanatory shrug, but you should have kept your guard up. Once his gaze settled on you with an intensity of intent, a pathetic instinct kickstarted your heart with all the subtlety of trainwreck, “Bored as fuck until you’ve shown up” the joy in that simple sentiment was enough to make your cheeks heat up.

Of its own volition, your brain provided the fresh memory of how Liam’s attention in that cursed kitchen had made you feel. How running away was the only option you saw then. It was different now; the quiet focus of the man sitting next to you was a welcomed change. A company you were happy to keep. For however long you were allowed.

“How long do you think till it’s-” ignoring the shyness that did not seem happy to be buried in Neil’s company, you changed the subject with all the grace of an elephant.

It was evident in how you stuttered, quickly abandoning the idea of finishing the sentence and letting it trail off into the quiet. It was too early to raise your head from the depths of shame it was drowning in. It was all a little too much.

“Could be twenty minutes, could be an hour… or never,” Neil’s voice gained a cheeky edge as if conscious of your minor crisis and happy to offer a distraction.

You risked a peek at his face, finding the signature smirk gracing his face. That expression never failed to feel like a sharpened knife piercing through the walls of your uncertainty. It complimented his face too well, dragging the attention to Neil’s sharp features and his remarkable eyes that always felt like they could see right through your bullshit and the pretending. It was terrifying.

It was then, in the light of his frightening beauty, that you decided what to do next. What was necessary to keep you (moderately) sane. One look at your tote bag lying on your lap offered inspiration:

“Fab,” your dry comment elicited Neil’s laugh and sealed the deal on what you wanted to do next. There was no backing out. You straightened your spine and swivelled on the seat to face him fully. When your knees touched him, Neil’s eyes widened almost comically. But that was only the beginning of the wild ride for him, you were sure of it, “Well, then… Dance with me,” the delivery of that line required a special nonchalance.

One that required you to hold Neil’s gaze long after you had finished speaking, and the words had only just dawned on him. Once they did, his eyes got comically large, and his lips parted on what could only be a mute expression of horror. A giggle got trapped in your throat, but you fought valiantly against it. For now.

“Pardon?” Neil’s choked-out question came after sequenced opening and closing his mouth with nothing coming up.

Your poker face was tearing at the seams. Foolishly.

“Dance with me, Neil,” repeating the request (order?), you extended your hand towards him, signing off the invitation for what it was.

The shock was still present on his face. Despite that, Neil slipped his palm, warm and fitting perfectly, into yours. You could tell that it was not entirely conscious on his part.

You sure did not mind it, though.

“I might have had a drink or two, but I didn’t think I was drunk enough to be hearing things,” Neil’s incredulity bled into his tone as he stared you down as if hoping the sheer disbelief would be enough to deter you.

Tough luck.

“Come on,” squeezing his hand, you switched the tactic with a question, “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” there was no judgment in your gaze, and you hoped Neil knew that.

If asked, you could not explain why that was something you wanted to do with him, there and then of all places. But it still felt important. Urgent, even.

The no-bullshit look you got in return almost made you burst into laughter.

“You’ll see me dance,” Neil deadpanned as if it was clear.

As if that was the peak horror that could befall him at your hands. Using the lifeline of your joined palms, you rubbed your thumb over the tender skin of his hand, hoping to let that act as a reassurance. That was a nonsensical fear to have.

Who gave you, a mediocre ballerina, the right to judge? Absolutely no one.

“And?” you offered Neil a brilliant grin, doing your best not to think about how right it felt to have his hand resting in yours.

That question seemed to catch his attention, pulling him back from the precipice of self-doubt. You watched as Neil pondered the answer, staring at you with that bright-eyed, anxious expression, complete with his teeth nibbling on his lower lip. He picked at the worried, fragile skin, and you did not think about soothing the damage with your tongue. Not at all.

“I don’t know… You’ll leave and block me?” when he finally found a plausible answer, it was the last thing you expected Neil to say.

Despite the seriousness on his face, you could not hold back the laugh that spilt from your lips. What an idiot [affectionate]. The adorable pout in his bottom lip was responsible for the recklessness you chose to implement.

Without thinking about it too much, you leaned in and used your free hand to cup his face, eradicating the remains of the gap between you. As your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, Neil gasped, barely disguising the sound with a cough. The grin spread over your face as you spoke:

“It takes a little more than that for me to block you,” that was true; you could barely fathom blocking Neil, least of all because of such a trivial reason. It was only after a beat that the second meaning of what he said sunk in. The meaning you expected Neil did not exactly consider slipping out like that. You grabbed it with both hands and a knowing smile, “Also… you enjoy talking to me that much?”

The jackpot shot came with a furious blush on his cheeks and an embarrassed scoff as Neil turned away from your watchful gaze. Your hands stayed linked. That, too, was an adorable reaction. It made that pleasant warmth in your chest burner brighter, though you refused to inspect it too closely.

Before you could consider pushing him for a reply further, Neil jumped up from the creaky seat and pulled you to standing using your tight handhold. The fake pep was visible from miles away, especially in that manic grin that almost seemed too wide on his face. But you did not have the time to question it.

“Okay, let’s just dance,” Neil tugged at your hand impatiently.

He did not seem capable of standing still, hopping from one leg to another. If that was a sign of what was coming, you knew you were not ready. Your eyes narrowed in what you hoped was a mildly threatening look:

“That’s a deflection tactic,” still, you took a step closer to him, finally putting that handhold to use.

“Yes, it is,” Neil nodded as his arms opened in a shrug.

That was your answer. You could only cement it with a smile as you allowed him to pull you closer, almost into his open arms, except-

“Wait, we need music,” remembering that crucial missing piece, you let go of his hand and darted back to the tote abandoned by the seats.

“No shit,” Neil’s dry comment was accompanied by the scuffling of his shoes over the cracked tiles.

You grinned, triumphantly holding out the speaker you had fished from the bag. That was the only pro you could think of that came from your earlier practice, and no time in between that and the disastrous party.

“Lucky for you, I came prepared,” you showcased it like a spoil of war and turned the speaker on, awaiting the sound confirming it had connected to your phone. When it came, you ceremoniously placed the device on the vacated seat and pressed play on your phone. Only once the music was playing, you turned back towards Neil with a flourish, “Voila,”

It took him an additional second to identify the song, the synthesizer filling the empty platform with a special kind of vibe. When the proper beat kicked in, you started shimmying your hips and shoulders to the rhythm, awaiting Neil’s reaction. You were not disappointed when he gaped at you with joy barely disguised underneath a frown:

“Really?” still, his foot started tapping with the singer’s voice.

Shrugging, you spun around him, feeling the music fill your body like it always did. You always felt the most alive when dancing. When your feet were following the choreography, and head was deliciously empty of everything but the musical notes and lyrics.

When you stopped to meet Neil’s gaze, you found him staring back in awe.

“What? It’s not me; it’s the holy spirit of the shuffle,” the song started heading towards the chorus, so you added the hand movements, orbiting around Neil and hoping to pull him along, “Can’t argue with it,”

‘Don't. Don't you want me?

You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me

Don't. Don't you want me?

You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me’

It was an all-time favourite. A bop you did not have the heart to resist whenever it came on. Now was not any different. Your lips started whispering the words as your body moved through the space, overcome with the feeling of dancing. At that moment, you were grateful for the sensible footwear your past self had chosen that morning. Sure, dancing in high heels was possible, but the Converse made for a much better choice. They slid along the cracked tiles without resistance, allowing you to double the efforts.

It did not matter that you had an audience. Or that it was a particularly attentive one, for you never once felt Neil look away. He was still staring, standing almost stock-still, save for how his feet tapped out the beat. That had to change.

‘Don't you want me, baby?

Don't you want me? Oh!’

You stopped, chest heaving and limbs still too giddy with the effort. You met Neil’s unwavering gaze over the space and mouthed the chorus, aware of the interpretations he could easily reach. That was fine, nothing you were opposed to. In a way, him noticing half your actions did have a tentative hope behind them would have saved you time. And words. But that was a thought for another time.

Once you heard the female vocals come in, you reached out towards him, yet again presenting Neil with your open hand. Yet again, he did not hesitate, letting you pull him close. When the distance had been eradicated, Neil placed his hand on your waist with an experimental level of timidity. As if he was still fully expecting the move to backfire. Silly goose. Your hand ventured up his chest to his shoulder as you steeled your frame into what was expected of ballroom dancing. The habits were hard to shake off, after all.

Despite the booming synthesizers and grooving rhythm, you let him lead you into a slow dance. With each step, Neil’s confidence seemed to grow, for his grip became firmer as he splayed his hand over the small of your back and pulled you closer. It did not matter that his technique would bring your snobbish teachers from ballet study to tears. What mattered was that you felt safe within his embrace, never shying away from Neil’s gaze as it stayed trained on your face. What also mattered was that the genuine smile was fixed on your face. Especially when the song was slowly ending, and Neil was not letting go. What a novelty that was. You worried that once you tasted it, it would be impossible to let go. To forget this careless feeling, encapsulated within a simple, tender hold and open, beautiful eyes.

“That was hardly a song for slow dancing,” when Neil spoke, the remark came upon a hesitant smile, so at odds with how sure his hand was within yours.

“We made do, didn’t we?” you could only offer him a smile, aware of the wobbly edges of your voice and the yearning of your treacherous heart.

Even with years of practice, it sometimes wanted what it could not get. Affection, namely. Or the tenderness that meant something, rather than the mindless touch of a loveless fuck. You hoped one day those two would disappear, leaving you perfectly satisfied with what you had.

As if aware of your dangerous thoughts, the song switch came at a perfect moment. The last beats of The Human League died down, replaced with an equally cheesy rhythm. If not worse. Neil’s reaction was instant. He stopped dancing abruptly, making you nearly miss stepping on his foot. Your eyes darted to his face as curiosity soared in your chest. The barely masked joy you found there only made that warmth in your heart feel like tongues of fire. You disentangled from the embrace to place your hand on his chest and push him back lightly:

“Come on, pretty boy. Show me what you’ve got,” you completed the encouragement with a wink and stepped back to give him space.

The hesitation stage lasted much less this time. Neil stared at you, evidently weighing the pros and cons of giving in, but as soon as Falco opened the song with the lines in German, he had made up his mind. It was your turn to be dumbfounded as you watched Neil thrash to the music, almost keeping up with the beat. He slid across the tiles, barely managing not to slip as Falco went on about Mozart and his flair.

‘Er war ein Virtuose, war ein Rockidol

Und alles rief: Come on and rock me Amadeus’

It was easy to say Neil got lost in the music as his lean body twisted and turned, claiming the space he was allowed to occupy. There was grace in his movement, as well as carelessness, perfectly balancing the dance into an ideal mixture. A rare spark of envy kindled in your chest as you did your best to ignore the question of what it must feel like to be this free. During the poor attempt at moonwalking as he circled you, you could no longer hold back the laugh. Neil’s hands weaved through the air as he threw his head back to shout the hook along with the singer. With each call of Amadeus’ name, the affection in your chest grew, becoming increasingly lethal. A show of that kind displayed not only his trust but also what kind of a man Neil could be if he got rid of his shyness and inhibitions. It was something you doubt you could ever forget.

And that could be a problem.

When the song drew to a close, and Neil’s heaving breaths alerted you that he was probably worn out with exertion, he stopped. The reverberating beats sunk into the background as you met his gaze, aware of the silly softness you could not eradicate from your eyes. Neil looked manic, his pupils dilated and irises sparkling. He was breathing hard, the exhaustion making him shrug off the jean jacket with impatience, so far that Neil did not bat an eyelid when the article landed on the dirty floor. The reveal of an old, worn-out t-shirt underneath that hugged his broad shoulders and biceps just right made your jaw fall slack.

That, too, could be a problem.

Despite the common sense screaming at you to look away, you stared on, aware of Neil gazing right back. A wiser person would have shaken awake in time to switch off the music and call this quits before any further damage could be done. But you were never the wiser person.

You looked on as the song switched into a different era of music, and gentle, cheesy chords of piano and percussion filled the platform with a ballad almost everyone knew. Neil was not any different. You noticed the change in his eyes, switching from playfulness to mild seriousness. As if he, too, knew your fates were being decided at that exact moment.

However, the results of those decisions would not be noticeable until much later.

Using Elvis’ crooning as a backup to help drown your thoughts, you reached out your hand towards Neil, repeating the invitation. It was up to him whether he wanted to take it. Just like everything else in your friendship. The eager hope was hard to nip in the bud. It itched and ached until you could hardly stand still, awaiting the sentencing for what felt like hours. At last, Neil closed the gap and took your proffered hand with an impassive look.

The second time bore all the experience of the first, making it easier to fall in place without hesitation. Neil clasped your hand in his and let his other arm wind around your waist, pulling you close. Much closer than before. Your hand found its way to his shoulder, curious fingers stroking the expanse of his neck, revealed by the t-shirt collar. You did your best not to notice the goosebumps rising on his skin. It was impossible to tell which of you moved first, leading into the gentle sway. Only once you started waltzing around the empty platform, it was impossible to stop.

‘Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?’

Halfway through the song, you tilted your head back from where your gaze had been trained on the expanse of his chest and met Neil’s waiting gaze. The shock passing through your system felt like a fatal blow. There was no denying the fact that this was a first. The first time you had ever danced like that with someone, motivated by nothing else but the desire to do it. There was also no denying the fact Neil’s watchful eyes and the soft strokes of his fingers, running along the expanse of your waist down to your hip, felt like nothing else you could have ever experienced before or after. It was well past your usual flirty chats and casual innuendos. Well past the daily playfulness of whatever it was blooming between you. It was well past the worn-out tracks and lived-in spaces.

Absolutely fucking terrifying.

‘Take my hand,

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

For I can't help falling in love with you’

It was impossible to say what had tipped the scales right then. Whether it was the song lyrics, drawing attention to all those things you would rather ignore till the end of time or the unwavering eye contact you had maintained as you spun across the space with grace that had not been there previously. Or whether it was due to how Neil held you steadily, all the while allowing himself to stare, eyes roaming over your face in a meticulous study. But perhaps it was just a trick of fate, a sudden loss of reason and logic that made you tip forward and give in to the gravitational pull of his orbit. Perhaps Neil was guilty of the same thing.

Before you knew what had failed and why, you were close enough to feel the gasp of his breath fan across your face. The air ghosted your lips as your nose brushed against Neil’s, and the time slowed to a crawling speed. There was no denying the fact that you wanted it. The want hummed underneath your skin and made it hard to think clearly.

You only knew that Neil closed his eyes, and his sharp intake of breath hit your lips, making you tilt forward. Making it oh so easy to let go and-

“This is Piccadilly Line service towards the Heathrow Airport,” the PA system crackled to life, forcing you to separate as if burned.

You blinked awake, barely noticing the train slowing at the platform and the music still playing from your speaker. One glance at Neil told you all feelings were very much mutual. It was a close call. So close you could almost feel the kiss that never happened. An uncertain smile played upon your lips as you turned off the music and jumped aboard the train. You could only hope the King of the Rock’N’Roll himself was wrong about this one.

***

It was a well-known truth that a pretty boy could make you a little stupid. Stupid enough to do things that, under normal circumstances, would be off the table. But all it took was a flash of blue eyes and a charming smile, and boom, logic gone, reason decimated. Usually, there was a price to pay for that.

But the potential costs meant nothing in the face of the revelations the Saturday night brought. Namely, the kiss that never happened but you could easily dream of. Which you did, just to brighten up the restless sleep. Needless to say, that night unlocked some things. Things that perhaps were best left untouched. But hindsight was a gift you did not yet possess.

Instead, you battled with a single idea that was difficult to eradicate. Sure, that night, or how it had almost ended, was never mentioned again. As early as the next day Neil reached out to you and set the tone you were happy to follow. But the memory remained, nagging at your brain for a week and not once letting go. It was a seed that planted another thought. The thought that nothing was preventing you from reaching out for more. That there was no script to follow with Neil. That idea was like a brainworm making a home inside your skull.

Because, yes, you were known to be a little stupid for attractive boys. And Neil was potentially the most beautiful man you have ever met. That proved to be a problem.

Exactly a week after that Saturday, you caved in. The autumn breeze was hitting your face and tangling your hair as you stared at the Thames. There was no better place to start a catastrophic chain of events than the Blackfriars Bridge. Or so you told yourself. You took out the phone to stare at the messages and opened the text conversation with Neil. It took an additional fortifying breath to start typing out the proposition and start the exchange.

/ 🏹, 5:39 pm/ So, I figured, since we already broke the rules on our hangouts last Saturday

/ 🏹, 5:40 pm/ Would you like to grab coffee tomorrow?

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ That’s unexpected.

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ Why the sudden change of heart?

/ 🏹, 5:46 pm/ I liked your moves.

/✝️, 5:47 pm/ I’m pretty sure no one’s ever said that to me.

/ 🏹, 5:49 pm/ Maybe they just weren’t looking. I knew I was.

/✝️, 5:51 pm/ Okay, yeah. I’d like that.

/✝️, 5:52 pm/ Any labels I should be aware of?

/ 🏹, 5:52 pm/ Nah, fuck the labels.

/ 🏹, 5:53 pm/ Unless you want to bring me flowers. Then let’s call it a date.

/✝️, 5:55 pm/ Then it’s a date 😘

You stared at the phone long after the screen went dark. Along with the buzzing joy and anticipation of what tomorrow would bring, there was also an eternal question. The question you had avoided pretty damn well so far. What the fuck have you done?

***

By the time you were meeting Neil in a café (chosen because of its perfect location between St. John’s Wood and Swiss Cottage), those nerves of anticipation had transformed into anxiety. The worst was that you did not even know what you were so nervous about. A date (that was not really a date) was nothing new. You have done it many times before, usually to great results. But suddenly, when Neil was inserted into the equation, all that you got was uncertainty. And a strong fear of fucking it up. It did not make for a good mix.

Part of it dissipated once you turned the street corner and saw him waiting in front of the café, a bouquet in hand, despite your line being nothing more than a throwaway joke. An affectionate smile was impossible to get rid of no matter how hard you may have tried. It stayed as you closed the remaining distance and met Neil’s gaze. Then it got transformed into a stupid grin as your eyes scanned him head to toe (hair just as messy as always, leather and jeans completed with sneakers – in other words: fucking hot). Once that foolery was complete, you could shift your attention to the flowers, now held out in your direction like a sheepish offering.

It was a colourful bouquet of wildflowers, freshly bloomed and coming from a florist rather than Sainsbury’s. The thoughtfulness was enough to make you blush. Before you could delve into an embarrassing attempt at cover-up, Neil broke the silence:

“You haven’t specified what kind of flowers,” his shyness was easily seen from the fidgeting hands and eyes unwilling to stay on your face longer than necessary.

That was your cue to get yourself together and accept the bouquet with a courtesy. That, too, was just a trick to drag that shy smile onto his face. It worked.

“Those are perfect, thank you,” with another smile, you turned towards the entrance and went in as Neil held the door. It was a cosy café with only a few tables and a bar-service ordering. You motioned towards the smiling server behind the counter with a question, “Wanna go order coffee?”

You did not expect in response to your innocent ask for Neil to come to a strange stand-still in the middle of the entryway and measure you with a look that spoke volumes about him having something to say and no way of expressing it. You raised your eyebrow, urging the words to come out and save you from death by perplexation.

After a beat, Neil seemingly found the ability to speak again and stumbled through a sentence:

“I’ve got… uh… a thing,” the emphasis on the final word was accompanied by an awkward shift, his hand automatically reaching up to comb through his hair and messing it up even more.

That did not help. At all. You blinked, aware of the comedy role you had just been awarded without warning. You were vaguely conscious of the server’s gaze, undoubtedly staring at the spectacle presented with fascination.

“Jesus, what thing?” when Neil did not elaborate, you prodded with another question, gaining a slightly hysterical edge.

It was probably that tone which made the most impact. Neil seemed to wake up, his hands gesturing as he attempted to explain:

“A thing about figuring out people’s drink order,” he shrugged, almost as if already embarrassed by ever bringing it up; that would not do, “Like a-”

“A kink?” you interrupted his explanation with a devilish grin, knowing that it would do the job.

That and the teasing, of course.

The reaction was instantaneous. Where previously there had been mild shyness and uncertainty, the furious blush had bloomed. Neil looked horrified as he took a step in your direction as if considering sealing your mouth shut before finally admitting defeat. What you got instead was a glare and an affronted reply:

“What? No! More like talent, I guess,” Neil shrugged, visibly battling the dilemma you were not privy to. You decided to help him the best way you knew how – by reaching out and squeezing his hand. Once. Just once. It was enough to do the job and make your fingers itch with an inexplicable desire to prolong the contact. Luckily, it disappeared when Neil recovered from his internal crisis and gestured towards the counter, “May I?”

You could only nod, happy that whatever had just transpired was past you. Not that it was not fun, but because of the audience that did not deserve to see what had happened. Whatever it was.

“You’ve got me intrigued, so now you have to,” shrugging upon Neil’s hesitant smile, you ventured inside the café, scouting for a perfect table.

Soon enough, the ideal booth had been located and taken as you awaited Neil’s return. You did not have to wait long, for as soon as you settled and placed your coat on the backrest, he sat in the chair in front. That sheepish smile was still in place, so you tried to bring back his confidence with dumb chitchat until you were interrupted by the server approaching your table. It worked. As you both fell quiet, Neil was visibly fighting a grin threatening to transform his face. The pride surged in your veins without respect towards your sense of humility.

The woman shot you both a bright smile as she set neared the table and put a steaming porcelain cup in front of Neil:

“Flat White for you, sir, and for your girlfriend-” you never got to hear the end of that sentence as Neil’s horrified expression and a loud interruption stole your attention.

“Oh, we’re not-” your laughter was almost enough to drown out his protest.

Almost because the server still looked extremely apologetic as she placed a larger cup in front of you with a clink.

“-Caramel Macchiato,” you waved off the atonement she seemed ready to launch and smiled, the curiosity at his choice already occupying your mind.

“Thank you,” as soon as the woman was out of earshot, you turned your cheeky smile onto Neil and covered his hand resting on the table with your palm, “Are you ashamed of me, my darling?” your favourite blush spread upon his cheeks, widening your grin in the process.

A blunder like that was not something you would ever lose sleep over. Even less so, considering that you were there with Neil. Even with your deep-rooted dislike over anything that had to do with relationships and the complications they lead to, you could not possibly be angry over being perceived as belonging to Neil. If anything, it was flattering.

“Stop it,” he shook off your hand, way too gently, and shook his head as if desperate to clear it, “I just didn’t-” after a beat, he dropped your gaze, giving up the fight, “It doesn’t matter, sorry” although you would do anything to understand the thought processes unfolding behind those slightly vacant blue eyes, you were not given a chance. Instead, he took a fortifying sip of coffee and looked at your cup, (not so) swiftly changing the topic “So… how did I do?” the anticipation in that gaze offered no space for a bargain.

You glanced at the beverage in front of you and slowly raised it to get a tentative taste. The warm liquid slightly burned your tongue, but before you could mourn the damage, the caffeine and creamy caramel filled your mouth with pleasurable goodness. It was a top-notch choice, making you follow that first sip with another almost without a break. Burned tongue be damned.

“Very good, actually,” raising your head, you met Neil’s proud smile. It was a much better look than the embarrassed expression from earlier, motivating you to add, “Maybe you should try getting into BGT with that talent,” you winked at him, even if to prolong the blush, which had begun to fade.

But also because it was fun to compliment him, considering that you meant every word and because of your suspicions that Neil did not get them often. That alone was a travesty, in your opinion.

“Very funny,” rolling his eyes at you with a happy smile tucked in the corner of his lips, Neil looked even better.

It was easy enough a conclusion that lightness and happiness were a good look on him. Especially when you were the cause. You tried not to let that go into your head, but… Well.

“I know,” you matched his smile with a smirk of your own, “Hysterical,” with the perfect pause to take another sip of the glorious coffee, you shifted the topic, “How was the week at the clergy?”

Without Neil’s continuous amused reactions to the same old joke, you would have dropped it by now. But how could you if it still got a laugh out of him each time? You couldn’t let opportunities like that slip by. No chance.

This time, Neil hid the joyous huff of laughter in the coffee cup as he pondered the answer.

“It’s been good. Fine,” a noncommittal shrug offered no room for guessing what it was that he did, which was still a mystery, but you counted wins where you could find them, “A bit busy, but what can you do. I might have a work trip coming up soon, so…” it was only when the second part of his reply was processed by your brain, currently preoccupied with staring at Neil’s mouth (which was a very normal state of mind to have), that you perked up.

That was important information. For two contrasting reasons. One was that whatever Neil did for work involved work trips, and that narrowed down the field, albeit barely. Two was that it would mean he would not be around every Wednesday, ready to meet you. That second deduction took hold of your heart with the icy grasp of disappointment.

“So, no more Wednesday meetups?” it was impossible to keep the sadness out of your tone as you settled a wary gaze on Neil.

Sure, it was survivable. But where would be the fun in it?

It was not fun to see that same apprehension creep into Neil’s eyes.

“Yeah, but only like… for a few weeks,” from his sudden dislike of eye contact, you guessed that the estimation might have been an understatement. Though you did hope he was not lying. The pitiful look must have been still present on your face, for Neil followed the statement with reassurance, “I’m sure you’ll survive without me,” he hesitated for a millisecond before returning your previous gesture and giving your hand a comforting pat.

You did not move it away, the pleasant warmth and weight of his palm seeping through your skin and soothing the sudden spell of sadness. It was difficult not to let that inexplicable feeling lead you into the deep end as it was not something you understood. It settled in the darkest cavern of your heart and accompanied its beat with its foreboding presence. There was no choice but to push past it.

“I don’t know, I’m going to miss you,” the confession felt dangerously light on your tongue as you registered Neil’s reaction. His beautiful eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he quickly dropped your gaze, choosing to stare at the table instead. The only sign that you were heard was how his thumb stroked your hand repeatedly, “I hope you’ll be back before the premiere,” using the only way you knew of lightening the conversation, you made sure to slip in a playful tone.

Ever since the day you had shared joyous news with Neil, he often asked about the preparations for the ballet. He seemed genuinely interested in the process, the rehearsals, and your impressions at every stage.

When you innocently hinted at a costume fitting in your texts Neil immediately asked for a picture. You complied, gleefully posing in the dressing room mirror wearing the whole get-up, complete with pointe shoes, tights, and a white ballet tutu with the accents of blue flower petals. All in all, you had the right to believe that Neil would be interested in coming to see the ballet when it premiered. You had that covered.

“I’ll do my best,” his hopeful smile was enough to distract you, for soon Neil followed it with a question, “Do I get an invite?”

The cheeky smile was back in full force, almost wiping you off the surface of the Earth. More of that, please. Feeling brave, you slowly tangled your fingers with his to raise your joined hands from the tabletop and squeezed his palm. It was a silly question to ask. You had to make sure Neil knew that.

“Well, duh,” you started with an eye roll, taking pleasure from the feel of his hand holding yours, “I’m going to need a personal cheerleader for when I fail big time,” it was a rare thing to hear you admit the fear and anxieties out loud.

Most of the time, they only existed in your mind, never expressed. And especially not in a conversation because that fear of someone else confirming all you feared was overwhelming. It was better to appear invincible to the world than to let them know your weaknesses. Somehow this logic did not want to apply itself to Neil. No, he has heard it all. And yet, he did not seem keen on confirming you were right to doubt yourself.

“That’s not going to happen. You’ll be the perfect Cupid,” punctuating the encouragement with a squeeze of the hand, Neil shot you a brilliant grin.

The nickname was growing on you. It was also the cause of a few silly smiles during the rehearsals when you were addressed with your character role. That was alright, too.

Now, with the force of his beautiful smile shining upon you like a rare beacon of hope, you tried your hardest not to let the praise consume you whole. Instead, you turned to the faithful vice of sarcasm as you let go of his hand and settled your chin on your folded palms. Eyelashes and doe eyes in full force. Naturally.

“Wow, my charms must be working if you’re this blindsided,” curling the corner of your mouth in a smirk, your eyes roamed over his face in familiar patterns.

It was refreshing to remember why you invited him out in the first place. Why you have decided to break the unwritten role and step on the line you both had been tiptoeing from day one. Why nothing was holding you back from reaching for what you wanted.

This time, Neil did not turn away from your taxing gaze and met it head-on. Almost as if permitting you to proceed with whatever you desired.

“You’ve no idea, sweetheart,” mirroring your tentative smirk, Neil offered you a wink and picked up the coffee cup.

You were certainly not going to eschew a chance like that.

***

As far as first dates (could he even call it that?) went, meeting up for coffee and letting the conversations run without a disaster somewhere in between was rare. Even rarer still considering that Neil did not know how he got to this point and whether it was not all a dream. The jury was out on that. Even though Sunday was now two days ago, the meeting was still fresh in his mind, posing a thousand questions.

Because he really did not know how he got that place. The only certainty was that sometime between the surprising Saturday night meeting at Leicester Square station and the day after, Cupid made up her mind and chose to strike. Alternatively, she decided to act considering the realisations he was not privy to. Sure, that night at the station almost ended with a kiss. He knew that. He was there. But it did not offer answers as towards why an almost kiss made her behave in contrast to what Neil thought he understood about her.

Because a date was definitely a step above flirting. And it was hard to understand what that meant. If anything at all.

Now, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, Neil stared out the window of the HQ cafeteria and tried his hardest not to think about it (her) for a change. It was not going well, as one could expect. From the corner of his eye, he could tell Ives was staring. Those piercing blue eyes (bluer than his, which has once or twice been proved during a night out as those things usually are) have been glancing his way instead of focusing on the sandwich on his plate. What a prick (affectionate). After what felt like a fiftieth glance, Neil dropped the napkin onto his place with force and turned towards Ives with a glare. The patience has worn out.

“Oh, just spit it out,” Neil hissed the words with ire.

The grin spreading upon Ives’ lips did not help a bit. The soldier leaned forward, abandoning his food and setting the perceptive eyes upon his friend. Mercilessly. With years of friendship, Neil knew this was not ending well.

“I haven’t said a word,” the man shrugged; a picture-perfect nonchalance.

If only.

“But you’ve been staring,” Neil’s attempt at covering up the tension with a bored tone failed.

He knew that as soon as he saw Ives’ unimpressed smile. There were no doubts about where this conversation was heading. It was the interrogation Neil had feared from day one. It was only a matter of time. Damn it.

“Go ask Henrik. Maybe he can help you gauge my eyes,” in moments like this, Ives’ cockney accent came out in full force, tearing at the shreds of patience Neil seemed to have.

Despite himself, he cracked a smile at the comeback.

“Doubtful,” quickly hiding it in the sip of tea, Neil muttered a quip of his own.

While Henrik, the team’s medic, was a peculiar man, it was improbable he would be into that kind of thing. Unfortunately.

“Eh, I wouldn’t put it past him,” before he could hope this was the end of the conversation, Ives levelled him with another no-bullshit look and delivered the sentence in four simple words, “Mate, spit it out,”

If only it were that easy. For one, Neil did not even know what there was to tell. Sure, he has met a girl. He was probably thinking too much about said girl daily. But that was it. The end of the story. Pathetic, as per usual.

“I’d rather not,” as the last resort of keeping his dignity intact, Neil averted his gaze and fixed his stare on the dirty floor of the cantina.

A solitary potato chip was lying there, attracting attention. For one, maddening second, his brain tried to concoct an elaborate metaphor in which he was like that lonely, forgotten chip on the ground.

Thankfully, the idea was soon dispersed by his irreplicable companion and his booming voice, cutting through the idiotic thoughts:

“I beg to differ,” the hint of reassurance in Ives’ voice was responsible for luring Neil into listening, just as the soldier delivered the question, “What’s her name? His name? Their name?”

Admittedly, the inclusive way of asking was a nice touch from someone who frequently lacked decorum. Or, more accurately, did not bother with it. It was that addition that made Neil crack, with the final resolve crumbling as he tried to protest:

“There’s no- Cupid,” giving out a tired sigh, Neil finally raised his head and repeated the nickname with something ridiculously close to the softness of affection, “I call her Cupid,”

It made no sense. He knew that. But it did not help that whenever he thought of her, that stupid, embarrassing part of his heart was roused awake from periodical slumber. So much for being reasonable.

As soon as Ives whistled lowly and that familiar sardonic grin appeared on his face, Neil knew it was a mistake.

“Kinky,” his murderous glare got ignored in favour of another pressing question, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Lucky was definitely an overstatement if you asked Neil. But he did not fancy getting into the specifics of the relationships yet. Instead, he happily let himself delve back into memories of that first meeting. He still could not find other apt ways to describe it than a strike of fate. Dramatic? Sure, that was his second name.

He did doubt that Ives would appreciate the insane poetic ruminations, however.

“I’ve met her at the Tube, and she’s a ballerina… Pretty fucking cool, at that” that was a non-negotiable fact. Period.

Yet from the way his friend stared at him, Neil could easily deduct that here, too, he sounded like the insane idiot that he was. An idiot that finds friends on the Tube and lets that develop into something else. Something he tried very hard not to define. It was going splendidly well. Of course.

“Uh oh,” as if reading his mind, Ives, the prick, pasted on a silly grin and bated his eyelashes down at him, continuing the interrogation, “Is that a crush I’m sensing?”

Fuck. That was, indeed, a mistake.

Not that there was a crush because there absolutely wasn’t anything of that sort. Idiot, he might have been, but not… No. No. Which is exactly why Neil had to pause to cover his face with his hands and let out a deep sigh. Conveniently ignoring Ives and his bullshit assumptions.

Only once he felt like the annoyance had simmered to an acceptable white noise, Neil dropped the hands covering his face and met his destiny in the form of an infuriating sardonic smile.

“No, she’s just… I’m fascinated, okay? I’ve never met anyone like her before, and we’ve got a good thing going with weekly chats and… stuff,” running out of steam, Neil let the last word trail off into silence.

He knew what it all sounded like. He did. Except that there was no better way of describing it (them) to the outside world. And he was certainly not keen on showing Ives the texts. Not after the last conversation this morning, which involved more innuendos and another rendition of What socks are you wearing? - his favourite game. Truly. What made the exchange more incriminating, however, was the fact that Cupid’s current socks brandished an image of an adorable pug with a caption: “Send dog pics”. Yeah, that. That was a theme he was so far happy to ignore. Kind of.

“Did you kiss her yet?” another ridiculous question acted like a wake-up call as Neil felt the loathed, crimson blush fill his cheeks.

“What is this? Middle school?” another outburst got met with a stoically blank face, not helping to ease the shame of being so goddamn transparent “No, I didn’t,” I wish, “We danced” offering the alternative lowkey felt like self-sacrifice.

Not because Neil was embarrassed of what had happened that Saturday night but because it stayed a secret to anyone who was not him or Cupid. At least, that is what she told him, much to inexplicable surprise, which he could not and would not try to understand.

“I never knew you dance,” the soldier’s remark, as always, missed the mark.

Annoyance at the whole world, at this rate, rose at a steady pace. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that Neil was frustrated at the circumstances of the relationship with the woman in question, but it was too soon for self-realisation to do its work.

“Of course, I do,” instead, it was the distant feel of pity that nagged at the edges of his soul as Neil allowed the dismissive reflection to be voiced without the veil of fake pep, “Anyway, none of it matters. She’s not into relationships, so…” he shrugged, aware of the pitiful picture.

In a way, it was easier to know that about her ahead of time. It was perfect information to push at his brain and heart whenever they got too comfortable with the situation. To remind them (and himself) that it was not going anywhere, and it never would.

But, for some infuriating reason, the heart tended to be a stubborn beast holding no regard for facts. Not that heart had anything to do with this just yet. Of course not. Neil just… liked her. As a human being likes another human being. Platonically.

“Surely, your roguish charm will convince her otherwise,” as expected, Ives looked as if he was trying very hard not to feel sorry for him and was failing.

The reassurance hardly worked if Neil was being honest. The existence of said roguish charm was highly debatable. But who was he to argue?

“Nah, it’s fine. I can be just friends with her” manifesting much, or whatever. It was a blessing to have a different topic to switch to, “Anyway, I’m not going to see her for the next couple of weeks since we’re leaving,” another attempt at a nonchalant shrug got lost in the heaviness Neil could not shake off if he tried.

Going off on a mission right now, in the middle of it all, was far from ideal. Neil liked his job, loved it even, but then, some operations felt like a drag from the moment they appeared on his desk. That was one of them.

“Yeah, Lisbon is on,” from the tiredness written all over Ives’ face, Neil could tell the lack of enthusiasm was shared, “Two weeks, but it might be longer,”

“Great,” sarcasm dripped from the word as Neil glanced at his friend and asked, “We’re going to bunk together?”

It was only half a joke. Because only the company made the perspective of that mission seem a little less daunting.

“You wish, love,” the answering grin on Ives’ face was the perfect punchline to the dramatic conversation. The soldier got up from the table with another quip, “You know I’m not into blondes,” he walked away without another glance, yet the laugh he elicited from Neil could be heard in the room above the cantina.

#neil tenet #tenet movie #tenet 2020 #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfic #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson x y/n #robert pattinson imagine #deadlines & commitments

35 notes · View notes

kyuohki · 6 days ago

Note

1, 25, 28 for any fic you like

And for the wips, gimme a v!

Gonna go with one that I finished but haven't really talked about much (bc smut and kinks)...Pretty Kitten!

1. Start to finish, how long did it take to plan and write? Did you take breaks during the process?

I started writing this in early December, and posted it right before Valentines, so give or take a few days, it took about 2 months to write?

Planning took the longest, bc all I had in my head was a vague idea of Zale with a Pet Kink, which devolved into BDSM. I originally had him as a Puppy, but as I started researching what he might have bought to surprise Garl with, I really liked the whole Kitten vibe more than a Puppy.

I did take a break early on as I ended up scrapping the first part of the fic (it was a more established Pet Kink, with Zale in full Pet headspace when Garl got home). I wasn't happy with how it was flowing and didn't like the whole Puppy part. Let it sit for about a month, then really got into researching. When I realized it was close to Valentines, I gave myself a deadline and managed to knock the whole thing out in a couple weeks.

25. Share your favorite line

"Zale didn’t answer, another grin flashing up at him, before the expression softened and turned sweet, a light blush blooming on his cheeks."

I love writing characters that are supposed to be extroverted and bold, becoming all shy and blushy and sweet around their loves (especially if they only save those reactions for their loves. Makes me giggle and blush more than the smut does).

28. Write a new summary for the fic, but badly

Poor, local college student given ludicrous amount of paid time off by employer, celebrates with mildy kinky sex with boyfriend.

Reads like a bad headline for a satire news outlet, doesn't it? I still laugh at myself for putting that bit about Chef Bass giving his employees that much paid time off. (I'm now gonna explain that away as he comes from money and mostly does the restaurant both bc he's bored as well as a challenge to himself.)

V is FFTA, titled Purr!

“Hnnnmmm…” Kemal chuckled, leaning back on the bed and gently running his hand along Olgan’s back. The mage was both sprawled and curled around him, nuzzling into Kemal’s neck with a hum that was closer to a purr than anything the fighter had heard before. “Content, are we?” Olgan merely gave another purr, his arms tightening about him. He was far more cuddly than usual, and Kemal wondered if the mage’s shift into his heritage was the reason.

Ahaha! This is the (hopefully) standalone fic that is supposed to be Kemal/Olgan smut while Olgan is partially shifted! *throws confetti*

#sea of stars #final fantasy tactics advance #writing game #ask meme #threw all my wips into a randomizer to make sure i don't just do Sea of Stars wips #(ngl they do make up the bulk of the wips)

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early20sfailingplenty · 1 year ago

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I was genuinely brave today and I wanna tell the Sinclairs about it but I can't so I'm telling all of you🥹🥹🥹

Okay so yesterday when I was grocery shopping, my work senior texted me to ask if I wanted to drop one of my shifts so I would have more time for uni. That WOULD help me out BUT financially I cannot afford to lose £2-300 a month. It was just sprung on me and instead of making a snap decision I asked if I could have time to think on it and promised to tell her my decision tomorrow (today). So I think on it, I got upset and angry (still haven't quite figured out yet why I got defensive but I think it's because the way she asked me, made me feel like she was saying I'm incapable of working four days a week and doing a degree. That's NOT what she was saying, but that was my snap emotional response. Obviously I didn't act on it and just asked her for thinking time). I do all my numbers once I'm home and yes, I canNOT afford to lose that money but yes it would help me academically. So time or money, which is it?? I picked money, I had to. Mum agreed, dad disapproved last night but this morning told me he agreed with me. So, fine, it's decided. So then today, I go into work, and half hour before the end of my shift, my work senior comes up to me and says, are you ready? I say yes, we find a quiet room.

HERE'S WHERE I WAS BRAVE.

Okay so she asked me again if I wanted to drop a shift to make uni easy on me and I said no thank you, financially I can't afford it but also I just REALLY love my job and I wanna stay on my four days a week. I didn't hesitate, and I didn't hold back. I was truthful and honest and I was as polite as possible given how angry I was yesterday. She then said that she loves having me on her team and doesn't want me to lose any hours either but she's just thinking about me and my mental health because she doesn't want to find out that I've been awake for 32 hours between work and uni EVER again because I'm one of her girls and if that's happening then she isn't doing her job to take care of us properly. So then I pulled out my notebook and showed her what needs to be revised between now and October and what this year will be like (see below pictures. This is the PREP WORK alongside learning an entire computer software programme we will use regularly AND six online labs to complete).

And she sat and thought for a moment because I refuse to compromise on my job not only because I'm stubborn but also because I just genuinely can't afford losing that kinda money and then she asked for all of my assignment deadline dates, all my lecture dates, etc etc and I gave them to her (I don't have lecture dates or group project dates yet because I get them in mid September) and she wrote them in her diary and said that she's gonna make sure that I have at least two days off in a row for all of those weeks so I can fully concentrate on my assignments and she asked that when I get the other info, that I give them to her so she can pencil me in as needing a day off. She also said that when I get my textbooks and the platform opens up, to bring my laptop into work and she's gonna sit down with me and work out a day by day plan for the first week and then I can copy that for all the other weeks so that I have time for my job AND uni AND free time without sacrificing one or the other.

I'm so so happy, I was expecting to be forced to give up one shift a week and I expected to be forced into what I didn't want but she listened and was so lovely and accommodating and good to me.😭😭😭 AND THEN SHE DROVE ME HOME BECAUSE MY KNEE STILL ISN'T FULLY HEALED BUT IT ALMOST IS😭😭😭😭😭honestly she was so kind it genuinely stunned me and I feel like I'm waiting for the shoe to drop...

And I just.... Proud Sinclairs because I'm getting braver and more vocal and confident???? Please have I earned Bo's smirk and Vincent's approving "mmf" and Lester's sunshine smile???😭😭😭😭

I'm getting so much braver now and saying no more often and pushing back and finding the spine my abusers took from me almost a decade ago. I'm doing it I'm doing itttt and now I just gotta keep good on my promise and make it work and not lose myself in the process...

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polizwrites · 12 days ago

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PoliZ's WIP Update - 30 Oct 2024

Another slower writing week - I touched three fics (2 new & 1 WIPs) for a total of 1788 words, about 1200 of which were on a single fic - a WIP–on-hiatus that I’m getting some traction on.

On Ao3, I posted:

Better Served Cold - pseudo-Regency WinterIron Vampire AU one shot

On Tumblr I posted:

A Dark and Stormy Knight - WinterIron Medieval AU double drabble

Dark Dreams Doubled - Stucky angsty drabble

Bait and Switch - Stucky (Stuckony) ficlet that lives up to its name.

Looking High and Low - domestic WinterIron fluff

I’m juggling 20+ active/semi-active WIPs with my current deadline being the Fictober, Flufftober and Whumptober writing challenges that run til the end of the month, along with the Build a Bucky Bingo.

See below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc. As always, feel free to send me prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding any of these projects or any other WIPs I’ve got out there. Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

WinterIron Gets It Done Bingo [WIGID]

This new WinterIron Discord server event runs on a monthly basis as a flash bingo with a content creation card and an engagement card - working on filling squares for both!

* Classic1 - "Oops" Posted Love Potion Number φ - a WinterIron Magic AU double drabble that crosses over with the FltT prompt 11. Ingredients & Spells as well as my TSB S3 - KINK: Aphrodisiacs square. It came in at 200 words exactly and will get added to Ao3 at some point.

* Classic_2 - Scary Movie - posted The Old Dark House on Friday - a WinterIron domestic fluff drabble that crossed over with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF274 Empty House] and will get posted to Ao3 at some point.

* Classic_3 - FREE - posted the final chapter of Love is a Thing That Can Never Go Wrong - my (eventual) WinterIron Reality Show AU fic from this summer. The final episode of Courting a Royal has James choosing his potential partner - and he throws a wrench into things with his choice. It came in at 1092 words and filled the BaBB October: Formal Wear prompt and my TSB: R1 - WinterIron square.

* Classic_4 - Fortune Teller - Posted Madame Prophetrona Knows All yesterday - a true 100-word drabble that incorporates the Fictober prompt 22 - “Why are we doing this again?” with a bit of friendship (or established relationship) fluff.

* Classic_5 - Dark and Stormy - Posted Better Served Cold on Friday - a quasi-Regency vampire AU (vamp!Bucky and human!Tony) that crosses over with the Whumptober prompt No. 18: REVENGE + Loss of Identity, the Fictober Day 25 prompt: “it consumes me” and the BaBB October: Vampire AU prompt. It came in at 1007 words.

* Engagement_1 - Post A Prompt: I shared the following prompt in the party thread:

Prompt for this month's Bingo: Tony and Bucky work opposite shifts at a coffee shop. They start leaving notes for each other - originally work related (malfunctioning equipment, cranky customers, etc) but then start sharing bits from their lives (acing a test, making a therapy breakthru [physical or mental]) and become penpal friends. They finally meet at the shop's holiday party only to discover they already had met (at the gym, shared class... one night stand?)

A couple of people in the thread are already taking the idea and running with it - can’t wait to see what they’ll do!

Build-A-Bucky Bingo [BaBB_R1] (Ends 31 Oct 2024)

Another fun year-long event from the folks at @buckybarnesevents! Each month there’s a list of prompts and you choose (at least) one each month for your card! At thirty-six fills and one month to go, I think I’ve gone a bit overboard …. 😁

* October: Formal Wear - see WIGID Classic_3 - FREE above.

* October: Vampire AU - see WIGID Classic_5 - Dark & Stormy above.

* October: Alpine - posted Looking High and Low on Tumblr last Saturday - a domestic fluff WinterIron fic that crossed over with the Flufftober Day 26 prompt “I can’t find it.” and Fictober Day 10 prompt “Is this normal?” It came in at 395 words and will get posted to Ao3 at some point.

Flufftober 2024 [FlfT_24] (Runs 1-31 Oct)

This writing challenge hosted by @flufftober runs for the month of October. My goal is to write one fic a week that incorporates these prompts: ended up posting seven - and I’m happy with that. Check back next week for a masterpost.

* 5. Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone - Posted Up, Down, North, South, East and West last Saturday. Combined this with R3 - AU: adventurers/explorers for some Tony & Morgan fluff. It came in at 347 words and will get posted to Ao3 at some point.

* 11. Ingredients & Spells - see WIGID Classic_1 - “Oops” above.

* 12 - “This is spooky.” - “Really?” -- Posted Digging Into the Past as a crossover with the Fictober prompt - 12 “Did you hear that?” and my BBB B3 - "Anyone out there?" square for a pre-war Steve & Bucky fic where they venture into the creepy cellar of their apartment building. It came in at 577 words and will get posted to Ao3 eventually.

* 18. Bewitched - Posted Pussyfooting Around on the 18th. It crosses over with my BBB B1 - Magic square and the Fictober 19. “This is getting ridiculous.” for a WinterIron ficlet where something odd (and adorable) is going on with Bucky. It came in at at 272 words and will get added to Ao3 at some point.

* 22 - Heirloom - Posted Chapter 10 of A Sugar-Coated Pill on the 18th. It crossed over with my WIB G2 - Edwin Jarvis & TSB T2 - Wedding squares - after jumping forward in time, Tony gifts a tie bar to Bucky as his ‘something old’ for their wedding. It came in 1433 words and finished off the fic!

* 26 - “I can’t find it.” - see BaBB October: Alpine prompt above

* FlfT Alt7 - Getting Revenge - Posted Bait and Switch on the 27th - crossing over with Whumptober: Alt13 - Used as Bait and Fictober 27. “let me remind you” prompts, plus my BBB Y2 - Kidnapped! square for a Stucky (Stuckony) fic that is true to its title; it came in at 441 words.

Whumptober 2024 [WmpT_24] (Runs 1-31 Oct)

This writing challenge hosted by @whumptober runs for the month of October. My goal was to write two fics (whump isn’t normally my bag) that incorporates these prompts. Ended up with four fics; check in next week for a masterpost.

* No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS + “You’re still alive in my head”. Combined this with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF273 Invisible Guest] for Having the Last Word where Tony confronts an imaginary (but still dead) Obadiah Stane. It came in at 310 words and will get posted to Ao3 at some point.

* No. 18: REVENGE - see WIGID Classic_5 - Dark and Stormy above.

*Alt9 - Secrets Revealed - This fits very well into what will probably be the final chapter of My Love is Vengeance - part of my long-running WinterIron series where the Winter Soldier gets assigned as a young Tony Stark’s bodyguard, with the mission of convincing him to join HYDRA. But affection (plus a cognitive recalibration) leads Bucky to rebel. It’s coming in at 1123 words and will probably post on the 31st so I can squeeze it into this event.

* Alt13 - Used as Bait - see FlfT Alt7 - Getting Revenge

Fictober 2024 [FicT_24] (Runs 1-31 Oct)

Another October writing challenge with daily prompts - all of which are dialogue. Go check out @fictober-event for details! I was targeting one fic a week on this as well and ended up with seven - stay tuned for a masterpost. Might keep this prompt list around for future inspiration.

* 10 “Is this normal?” - see BaBB October: Alpine

* 12 “Did you hear that?” - see FlfT 12 - “This is spooky.” - “Really?”

* 19. “This is getting ridiculous.” - see FlfT 18. Bewitched

* 22 - “Why are we doing this again?” - see WIGID Classic_4: Fortune Teller

* 25 - “It consumes me.” - see WIGID Classic_5 - Dark and Stormy above.

* 27 - “Let me remind you.” - see FlfT Alt7 - Getting Revenge

WinterIron Bingo 2 [WIB_R2] (Ends 16 Dec 2024)

Signups are still open for pre-made cards for Round Two of this super-fun bingo event! I have twenty fills and zero WIPs at the moment - setting this aside for the moment, as I have other time-sensitive events going.

* Iron Soldier (One Bingo, One Fill) - looking at combining my Column B prompts: Matchmaker, Bucky Riding Tony, Stark Gala, Inside Joke and Threesome. Still working on a plot - if you have any suggestions/want-to-sees - let me know!

* I3 - Car Sex - Have a fun ficlet in mind for this - some of the dialogue & such already worked out in my head.

* N5 - "I'm here for you." - Possibly the next chapter of Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion ?

Marvelous Yahtzee [MY_24] (Ends 31 Dec)

Another writing challenge that I kind of forgot I signed up for! This one is a bit complicated - check out the Tumblr blog for more info. Hopefully I can pick up a few lines and put something together before the event ends.

Bucky Barnes Bingo - Round Six [BBB - R6] (Ends 31 Mar)

This amazing bingo event from the folks over at @buckybarnesbingo is back! I have twenty fills (but somehow only one bingo) with one WIPs at the moment, and a couple more crossovers planned.

* B1 - Magic - see FlfT 18 - Bewitched above.

* U3 - Yelena Belova - Magica and I are circling back around to Peresmešnik, (aka Three Avengers and a Baby) - with the next chapter featuring Tony’s interactions with Mirriam, and a revelation about her parentage. I’ve written 313 of the 560 words in this chapter so far - it needs about 500 more words before we’ll be ready to post - maybe sometime this month?

* K2 - IMAGE: Bucky and Steve in Siberian silo hallway (CA:CW) - Combined this with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF269 Living Weapon] for Reconstruction - a fix-it/canon divergent ficlet where Steve, Bucky and Tony team up instead of fighting. It came in at 268 words and will get posted to Ao3 before the event is over.

* Y2 - Kidnapped! - see FlfT Alt7 - Getting Revenge

Tony Stark Bingo - Mark VIII [TSB_R8] (Ends 31 May)

This amazing bingo event from the folks over at @tonystarkbingo is back! Late signups should start this month if you want to join in on the fun! I have seventeen squares filled, one bingo and one WIPs - with more crossovers planned!

* S1 - Bodyguard - filled this with A Dark and Stormy Knight - a vaguely medieval AU WinterIron AU double drabble which crossed over with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF276 Dark and Stormy Night]. It came in at 200 words and will get posted on Ao3 at some point.

* S3 - KINK: Aphrodisiacs - see WIGID Classic1 - "Oops" above

* T1 - Watching Helplessly - Posted Stranded Among the Stars to Tumblr as a crossover with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF265 Galaxies Away]. It’s a Nebula & Tony ficlet set on the ship - it came in at 345 words and will get posted to Ao3 before the event ends.

* T2 - Wedding - see Flufftober 22. Heirloom prompt above

* R1 - WinterIron - see WIGID - Classic_3 - FREE above

* R3 - AU: adventurers/explorers - see FlfT 5. Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone above.

* K4 - backstory - see Whumptober *Alt9 - Secrets Revealed

Post July Break Bingo 2024 [pJBB_24] (Ends 30 Jun 2025)

I requested two 2x3 cards for this Discord-server only event from @julybreakbingo – so if you want to join in the fun, let me know and I’ll try to get you an invite! I have four fics posted & 0 WIPs - need to figure out some more crossovers.

* C2_B1 - Courting/courted in a different way than they're familiar with - posted A Symbol of Devotion on Tumblr as a crossover with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF267 Gifted Violets] - a bit of Stony fluff with Tony buying Steve little things for his apartment. It came in at 374 words and will get posted to Ao3 before this event is over.

* C2_B2 - Being there for someone after a traumatic event - posted Melting Down to Ao3 - a post IM3 Pepperony ficlet where Pepper’s struggling with Extremis. It crossed over with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF271 Tantrum Entrance] and came in at 416 words.

Warm and Fluffy Bingo [WFB] (no end date)

Eight fills on my card, courtesy of @warmandfluffybingocards - need to try for another crossover or two!

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On other creative fronts: I am working on a Mothra figure for a custom commission and have seven figures to create for my two Marvel Trumps Hate 2024 auctions. I’ve been in touch with my winners and they’re still deciding on who they want.

If you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations, check out Stuffed With Character over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 150!). These soft stuffed figures are mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design requests for any fandom!

#writing stuff #wip wednesday #wip update #shameless self promo

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